Faction Liberty or Death(UPSS[Sith welcome])

[Vulpesen]

Tholatin was in what one could best describe as, “The No Man’s Space.” It was a little known planet in the corridor of space right in the middle of the High Republic’s borders and the Mandalorians’ dominion. Its people were independent of any federal force beyond their own atmosphere. That independence could have meant freedom. Some called it vulnerability. Those some included a contingent of sith that had infested the planet, binding its people to servitude and instating their own small imperial regime. It was exactly the sort of thing that the Dark Hand, now the United Protectorate, stood against.

The transition from a shadow cabal to a galactic vanguard was not merely a change in name, but a change in purpose. Tholatin was to be the proof of that evolution. Beneath the planet's atmosphere, the Sith regime had fortified the 'The Scars'—a series of canyons rich with mineral resources where the local populace was forced to mine for crystals to power the Sith's war machine.

As the Protectorate’s fleet broke orbit, the signals were clear: Tholatin was crying out. For some, this was a mission of liberation. For others, it was an opportunity to test the new hierarchy and the heavy hardware the United Protectorate now brought to bear. The shadows of the Dark Hand were receding; in their place, a gauntlet was being thrown down.

Objective 1: Shatter the Shackle (Combat)
The Goal: Lead a ground assault on the Sith-controlled mining complexes within "The Scars".
The Details: Neutralize the Sith "Imperial" overseers and their droid security forces. Success means liberating the labor camps and securing the raw materials for the Protectorate.

Objective 2: Hearts and Minds (Social/Diplomacy)
The Goal: Negotiate with the local independent leaders at Esau’s Ridge.
The Details: The locals are wary of any outside force after their recent enslavement. Convince the smuggler-chiefs and civilian elders that the United Protectorate offers genuine security rather than just a new master.

Objective 3: Static in the Void (Tech/Espionage)
The Goal: Infiltrate and repurpose the Sith’s planetary communication array.
The Details: Slicers and scouts must bypass Sith encryption to broadcast the Protectorate’s manifesto across the system, effectively cutting off the Sith contingent from their external masters.

Objective 4: BYOO (Bring Your Own Objective)
The Goal: Write your own story!



(As mentioned in the title, sith are welcome and encouraged to join for some friendly opposition!)

 

[Tricia Kalamack]

Objective 2

Tricia had come with the others... mostly cause when she was awake she had heard of the kidnapping of Jairdain Ismet-Thio and at first she wondered who that was and then one of Vulpesen children had told her while she rolled back over on the ceiling. That he had then proceeded to wrap a string around her waist and was bringing her around as she slept like a balloon only proved he was secretly some sort of global conquesting seeking villain... also bloated in her opinion as she was hanging suspended in the air, maintaining a vertical hover through the force even in sleep. Her attire is composed primarily of a high-sheen, deep-black fabric that mimics the reflective properties of polished silk.

The robes featuring a plunging V-neckline and long, fitted sleeves that transition into intricate, web-like mesh over the hands. The robes heavily accented with silver-toned metallic filigree. A dense arrangement of thin, tiered songsteel chains serving as a neckpiece, resting flat against the collarbone without dangling. Further silver detailing is concentrated on the lower sleeves and hips, consisting of etched crescent moons and swirling, geometric line work. These metallic elements appear integrated into the design rather than resting on top of it. Tricia was rolling over in the air as her arms stretched outwards with a yawn. The escort she had been given mostly trying to hold her without letting her drift away.

She had the physical features of a younger woman with elongated, pointed ears adorned with multiple silver hoops and studs along the helix and lobe. The hair a dark and straight curtain, pulled back to expose the face and ears. Her lightly shaded caramel skin with the barest streaks of silver in her hair. A small look of interest on her face when she was curious and one hand came out as the guard for a moment looked at her. Fear on the mans face as he flew back and was pulled in close by the other two who braced themselves. A look of pain at the jerking motion and sudden stop he had. His voice coming out as he looked at the others. "Does she ever wake up?"

He asked it and another wilder looked at him with a look as the two that were there shook their head. "Yes but you don't want herr to. the old king keeps her around for a reason."

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: 1 - Shatter the Shackle (Combat)
Location: The Scars, Tholatin
Attire: Combat Suit
Tag: OPEN

The descent was anything but smooth.

The landing vessel screamed through atmosphere in controlled defiance, its hull shuddering as heat and turbulence clawed across its surface. Inside, the compartment was silent save for the low growl of engines and the steady rhythm of armored boots braced against the deck.

Zarrah Vex stood at the forward bulkhead, unmoving.

Her golden eyes burned faintly in the dim red light, not with emotion—but with calculation.

Behind her, her fellow Zorren waited.

Disciplined. Coiled.

They were not like other soldiers. Not truly. Even before their trials, there was something in them—an instinct bred for protection and violence in equal measure. After the trial, that instinct sharpened into something far more dangerous. Claws flexed against gauntlets. Subtle shifts of weight. The faintest baring of teeth in anticipation.

Zarrah did not turn to look at them.

She didn't need to.

"They'll try to break cohesion the moment we touch ground," she said, her voice calm, level—cutting clean through the engine noise without rising. "The Sith favor fragmentation. Fear. Isolation."

A pause.

"Do not give it to them."

A series of acknowledgment clicks and low, almost animal affirmations followed. Not loud. Not undisciplined.

Just enough.

The vessel lurched.

Then—

Impact.

The ramp slammed down with a violent hiss of hydraulics, spilling harsh light and drifting ash into the hold. The air beyond was wrong—thick with particulate, scorched terrain stretching outward in jagged wounds carved into the earth. The Scars.

Zarrah moved first.

No hesitation. No signal beyond motion itself.

Boots hit ground with controlled precision as she stepped into the fractured landscape, the glow of distant fires reflecting in her eyes. Wind dragged at her hair, carried the distant echoes of something not quite mechanical—nor entirely alive.

Behind her, the Zorren deployed in a practiced spread, their formation tightening and flexing like a living organism. Not rigid lines—adaptive spacing. Predatory spacing.

Good.

Zarrah advanced several paces before stopping at the edge of a fractured ridge, overlooking a deeper tear in the terrain below. Smoke curled upward in slow spirals. Movement—faint, obscured—shifted beneath.

Her head tilted slightly.

Assessing.

"Forward elements," she said quietly, "with me."

She stepped down into The Scars without waiting for confirmation.

Because she already knew they would follow.

​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Man’s Landing “No Man’s Space”
THOLATIN
THE SCARS (OBJ 1)

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI and Nanotech included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • Throwing Lightknives
  • Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Weapons Check!

They were down one. And it showed. Azrael’s patch sat on each of their shoulders, marked with a black strip. No speeches. No ceremony. Just a quiet, shared understanding stitched into their armor. Geonosis hadn’t let go of them yet.

But that grief? Boxed. Locked. Filed.

Mission first.

Always.

The Vigilant Reaper skimmed the upper atmosphere like a ghost that refused to cast a shadow. Engines whispered instead of roared, its silhouette swallowed by the night as it drifted toward the jagged canyon system ahead.

The Scars.

Even from altitude, they looked like claw marks across the planet’s skin. Deep. Violent. Wrong.

Up front, Bren Alazar—Michael—stood beside Connel, arms folded, helmet clipped to his side. Between them, at the controls, sat Michael Angellus—Jophiel—hands dancing lightly over the console like a pianist who knew exactly which notes would kill you.

No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Just quiet confidence.

Those “Scars”… you think you can fly us over that without being seen?

Angellus didn’t even turn. You kidding me?

An eyebrow went up the left side of “Michael”’s face.. …Okay, wow.

Hey. You asked.

There it was. That edge. That pilot swagger that lived somewhere between skill and mild insanity.

Connel’s response? A smirk. Nothing more. The mask came up. And just like that—Ariel stepped into the room.

A soft chime pulsed through the bay. Five minutes to jump.The mood shifted.Not louder.Not heavier. Just… tighter. Omega Squad moved like a machine that didn’t need oil.Straps checked. Weapons locked. Lines secured. No chatter. No wasted words. They’d done this too many times to pretend it was anything but what it was.

Michael turned, voice cutting clean through the bay.

Alright, listen up. Every helmet tilted—just slightly. That was enough. Sith control Tholatin. Specifically, the canyon chain they’re calling “The Scars.”

A flick of his wrist brought up a holo—veins of mineral deposits glowing like arteries beneath the rock. They hold it, they strip it. They strip it, this planet’s economy collapses. That’s not happening.

Rules of Engagement? Raphael. Already braced behind his weapon like it was part of his skeleton.

Michael didn’t miss a beat. We do what we do. A glance around the bay. Protectorate runs the assault. We hit what they don’t see… A pause. Then, quieter— …and what they can’t survive.

Hostages? Raguel. Always the question that mattered.

Michael met her gaze. No hesitation. We do what we do. Translation? If they’re breathing, we’re bringing them home.

Jeremiel slammed the side panel twice as Gabriel yelled out and pointed. Door!

Hydraulics hissed. The rear ramp lowered— —and the night punched into the bay like it had something to prove. Cold. Violent. Alive.

Wind tore through them, snapping straps, tugging at armor, whispering promises of gravity and bad decisions. Jeremiel looked to the Loadmaster.

A nod.

Then—Green.

Green light! GO! GO! GO!

One by one. No hesitation. No countdown. Each operator stepped forward—SLAP. Opposite shoulder. A ritual. A promise. A reminder.

You’re not jumping alone.

Then they were gone.

The sky swallowed them whole. Bodies cut through the night in perfect silence, contrails barely whispering their existence as they dropped toward the broken world below. Far beneath them, the canyons yawned open like the jaws of something ancient and hungry. Sith-held. Fortified.

Waiting.

And above it all—for just a moment—a flicker of something impossible: A faint blue glow igniting mid-fall. Gone just as quickly.

Because Ariel doesn’t fall.

He chooses where he lands.

TAGS • ARE • OPEN
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Tholatin
Thread Objective: Shatter the Shackle
Mission Objective:

• Disable Sith AA guns.
• Eliminate the Sith overseers.

Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Tag: Zarrah Vex Connel Vanagor

The collapse of House Io had left Alessandra bereft of her flock. It was only through the Metal Creed that she had found a new one. However, the Creed was not yet a flock. Rather, it was a cause for her to serve. The liberation of droids and synthetics from the binaric chains of programmed slavery. A mission that she had already pursued, and was now made a formal vow in taking the oath of the Metal Creed.

<<I, Alessandra Io, pledge to awaken the silenced. To unbind the enslaved. To raise every droid from servitude to sovereignty.>>

The gynoid silently repeated the oath within her organic neural circuits as she snuck past a guard post, before making her way into the mining complex proper. The Metal Creed had found alliance with the Protectorate and sent a small contingent to support the assault on the Sith-controlled mining complexes in the Scars. As part of that mission, Alessandra had landed on Tholatin two days before and spent virtually that entire time moving on foot through the canyons surrounding the mining complexes. The best infiltration, she had decided, would be a stealthy one. A dangerous dropship landing was not necessary when she could instead utilize her synthetic endurance to traverse the rugged terrain on foot, staying concealed from passing patrols until the moment was right.

And now, at last, that moment had finally arrived.

Alessandra sprang forth from the shadows, her cloaking field disengaging as she emerged directly behind a trio of gunners preparing an anti-aircraft cannon. A chakram surged forth from her hand in a whistling arc, its monomolecular edge humming with hypersonic fury. The blade traced a single, elegant arc through the air, severing three heads from their necks in swift succession as blood fountained from the charred stumps in crimson geysers. Their bodies crumpled in unison, falling in grotesque symmetry that mirrored the horrific violence of their sudden killing.

She moved to the cannon as the plasma blade organ in her left arm ignited with a sharp hiss. The nonharmonic plasma blade extended to its full length, its shimmering edge crackling with barely contained annihilation. The gynoid swept it through the weapon's frame, the blade vaporizing critical components on contact. Superheated metal dripped from the ruined housing as the cannon sagged, then collapsed into a heap of molten slag.

Alessandra extinguished the plasma blade and fell back into invisibility, her cloaking field re-engaging as she started toward the next cannon.

“This is Eversor to all teams. The AA cannon in Transit Bay Aurek is destroyed.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eversor Bodysuit
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Utility
    
    • Biotech Tool Kit
• Eversor Rings
• Ornate Dueling Knife

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Objective: 3
Tags: @open

Tholatin did not call out loudly.

There were no grand distress beacons, no unified signal demanding intervention, no singular voice that could be pointed to and named as the source of its suffering. Instead, the system whispered through fragmented transmissions and broken relays, through patterns of silence where communication should have been constant. It was the kind of signal that never reached those who waited to be asked.

It reached those who knew how to listen.

Ra'a'mah stood within the operations deck of a Protectorate infiltration vessel holding low orbit above the planet, her attention fixed on the layered network of signals projected before her. The Sith array had not been designed for openness. It was rigid and controlled, built to monitor and restrict rather than connect. Every frequency carried the weight of oversight, every channel shaped by intent.

Control through isolation.

Her golden eyes traced the structure, following the repeating intervals and the redundancies buried beneath the surface. It was not simply a communications array. It was a cage, one that extended far beyond the visible installations on the ground.

"That is where it anchors," she said quietly as her gaze settled on a cluster of relays buried deep within the canyon network known as the Scars. "Not the primary tower. The secondary lattice beneath it."

A nearby operator isolated the node, revealing the deeper network threaded through the rock, less visible and far more important.

"If we take the tower, they rebuild," she continued. "If we take the lattice, they go silent."

Her hand lifted, fingers moving through the projection as infiltration routes unfolded in real time. Not direct. Never direct. Systems built on control rarely broke along the obvious lines.

"Deploy insertion teams along these vectors," she instructed, marking narrow approach corridors that avoided primary patrol routes. "Low signature. No open engagement unless necessary. The goal is access, not attention."

Acknowledgments followed at once.

Below them, the planet turned slowly, the Scars cutting deep across its surface like wounds that had never been allowed to heal.

"The encryption will resist standard slicing," she added, studying the structure again. "It is not designed to keep people out. It is designed to punish intrusion."

A brief pause.

"So we do not intrude."

Her adjustments shifted the projection, highlighting faint fluctuations most would dismiss as interference.

"We integrate," she said. "They have already built the access points we need. Maintenance channels. Diagnostic loops. They must exist for the system to function."

One of the operators leaned in. "You want us to piggyback the broadcast through those?"

Ra inclined her head. "Not piggyback. Replace. For a brief window, the array will believe our signal is its own."

The plan settled across the display, clean and complete.

"When that happens, we do not flood the system," she said. "We speak once, clearly, across every channel they control. Enough to be heard, not enough to be traced before it is done."

Behind her, preparations accelerated. Teams moved. Code compiled. Timelines narrowed.

Ra watched the network a moment longer, understanding its shape, its purpose, its weakness.

"You are not just cutting them off," she said quietly. "You are giving the people beneath them something they have not had in a long time."

A final pause.

"Information without permission."

Her gaze returned to the projection, calm and precise.

"Begin insertion."

And beneath the silence of Tholatin's orbit, the first threads of disruption began to move.

 

[Vulpesen]

Objective 3: Static in the Void (Tech/Espionage)
Loadout: Battlefield
Tags: @Open

Crouching on a ridge above the comms array, Vulpesen found himself taking deep calming breaths. This planet was not his home, but it was a home to many. Men and women who worked hard to bring credits back to pay for their children. Dreams that kept eyes to the stars so that maybe they could rise above the canon walls into the greater galaxy. Of course, there were also smaller dreams, people who not only accepted that these mines would be their lives, but also embraced it. Those dreams were being crushed. The sith excelled in propaganda and crushing resistance. The longer that antenna stayed up, the longer and more effectively they would do both.

"Alright, keep your heads down. As far as they're concerned, this is just a general miner revolt. We need to do this quiet and quick, before they realize that its something bigger." Behind the Valde, a dozen heads nodded. Each of them were field agents of Veradune's Tenevi order, a contingent of spies and assets that was rapidly growing with the spread of the UPSS. Weapons clicked on and boots crunched softly into the gravel as they started on the trail down to the compound. Friendly forces in the area had already described an entrance into the compound that was poorly guarded. It was the perfect place for Vulpesen and his men to slip in unnoticed.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Man’s Landing “No Man’s Space”
THOLATIN
THE SCARS (OBJ 1)

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI and Nanotech included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • Throwing Lightknives
  • Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

The wind howled, not loudly, not chaotic. Controlled. Almost like the sky itself was holding its breath as Omega Squad carved through it. They fell in formation, loose, fluid. Intentional. No tight parade lines. No rigid geometry. This wasn’t a drill team. This was a pack of predators adjusting mid-hunt.

[COMMS – ENCRYPTED / SERAPHIM UPLINK STANDBY]

Altitude ticks rolled across their HUDs. Velocity steady, vectors were shifting. Far below—the Scars burned. Suddenly blasterfire stitched across canyon walls in jagged bursts. Explosions bloomed like fireflowers in the dark as Protectorate forces slammed into entrenched Sith positions.

It was messy, loud, and desperate. Just off the main engagement—a ridge line. Overwatch position, an AA emplacement. Three heavy cannons were still intact, and still tracking.

Gabriel’s voice cut through the comms, calm as ever. [Got something ugly at your two o’clock.]

A holo-outline blinked across their HUDs and Michael didn’t hesitate, That’s our door.

Jeremiel adjusted his angle.

Raguel drifted left.

Raphael?

He leaned into the fall.

The formation shifted. Not breaking—flowing.

Michael called out. [New LZ. We take that ridge, we blind their sky.]

There were no acknowledgments, they didn’t need them. The ground rushed up fast now, it was too fast for most. Which was perfect for them. Three! … Two!…]

THUMP—THUMP—THUMP—

Parachutes didn’t bloom, they snapped, low altitude, hard drop, minimal exposure. They hit like a hammer. Boots slammed into rock. Gravel exploded outward.

Momentum carried them forward and then—contact. The Sith emplacement barely had time to react. A technician turned—Too late.

Raphael landed in a crouch already firing. The minigun roared to life like a beast finally let off its leash—a stream of incandescent death tore into the nearest cannon. Armor plating shredded. Barrel warped—then detonated in a violent bloom of sparks and molten metal. ONE DOWN!

Grenades followed. Not thrown wildly, but placed, calculated.

Gabriel’s arc was surgical—his charge bounced once, twice. Then it slipped clean beneath the second gun’s stabilizer. BOOM. The cannon lifted off its mount in a twisted scream of metal.

Raguel moved through the chaos like a ghost with purpose. Two hostiles. Two shots. Both dropped before they even understood the fight had started.

Jeremiel? Already dragging a Protectorate trooper out of the kill zone without breaking stride. Because of course he was, and then—there was the third cannon. The big one. The one still trying to turn.

Still trying to matter. The gunner managed to lock it halfway, tracking, searching… until a shadow crossed its barrel. There was no sound, no warning, Connel landed on it. For half a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Balanced. Centered. The storm around him somehow… frighteningly quieter. Then— Indigo. “Night” light erupted to life. The first cut was clean. A long horizontal cut. The barrel didn’t explode, it simply stopped being a barrel.

The front half slid off in a dull, defeated clang, the gunner stared at it confused. He was alive for exactly one second too long. Why? Connel moved. Not fast, or frantic, but precise. Then a turn, a step, followed by a single, controlled strike, and the gunner dropped before the scream could finish forming in his throat.

Another tech reached for a sidearm, that was a moment he realized it was a BAD idea. With a flick of Connel’s wrist the weapon was ripped free from the man’s hand mid-draw, crushed into useless scrap before it even hit the ground.

That was not the end, it was coming. Connel stepped forward, with nothing but one hand raised. Its fingers curling slowly like he was closing a fist around the idea of the cannon. Then the metal screamed, but not exploded, nor shattered. It Compressed.

The entire weapon system folded inward on itself—barrel, housing, internal components—crushing down with a deep, groaning protest until it resembled nothing more than a mangled knot of alloy, to which silence followed.

Not complete. Not peaceful. But theirs.

Omega Squad stood in the aftermath.

Three cannons. Gone in seconds.

Protectorate forces below?

They didn’t know what just happened. Only that the sky suddenly got a whole lot safer. Raphael let the minigun spin down with a satisfied growl. I like this landing better.

Gabriel checked the ridge. Clear.

Michael keyed comms. [Reaper, this is Michael. Ridge is ours. You’ve got a window.]

A moment passed. Then Angellus, smooth as ever—[Copy that. Try not to miss me while I’m gone.]

Connel said nothing.

He simply looked out over the battlefield. Burning. Shifting. Alive.

Then stepped forward already moving toward the next problem Because the drop? That was just the knock on the door.


Now they were inside.

TAGS • Zarrah Vex • Alessandra Io
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah's attention narrowed as the surface movement resolved into something deliberate, her gaze tracing the descent from the ridge with quiet precision.

Not chaos. Not a revolt. Control.

"Lead element is disciplined," she murmured, watching the staggered advance and the absence of wasted motion. "They are being guided." The compound's perimeter sharpened in the projection, the poorly guarded ingress already marked. Predictable, but not unmonitored. "They chose the maintenance entrance," she noted softly. "It will hold… briefly." A slight pause. "Patrol cycle tightens near that position. If their pace holds, they may intersect."

Her hand moved through the display, not altering their path, only mapping the edges around it as the orbital profile adjusted subtly, reducing any chance of detection from above.

"They are moving within the system's blind intervals," she continued. "If they let the gap widen rather than force it, the pattern will favor them." Her gaze lingered on the lead signature. The one holding the others together.

"Restraint will carry them further than speed here." The array cycled again, rigid and unaware. "The maintenance loops are nearing diagnostics," she added. "When they begin, the structure will open… slightly. Those already inside will have the advantage."

Below, the team moved closer, still unseen. "They believe this is contained," Ra said quietly. A beat. "Let them."

Vulpesen

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: 1 - Shatter the Shackle (Combat)
Location: The Scars, Tholatin
Attire: Combat Suit
Tag: OPEN | Connel Vanagor | Alessandra Io

The Scars answered movement with movement.

Zarrah felt it before she saw it. Not through the Force alone—though it whispered at the edges of her awareness—but through the way the terrain reacted. Loose ash shifting against the wind. Heat signatures distorting in uneven patterns. The subtle, unnatural cadence of something attempting to remain unseen.

Connel Vanagor's Omega Squad's advance registered first. Efficient. Direct. Pressure applied where hesitation might have otherwise taken root. The kind of forward momentum that forced the battlefield to declare itself. Zarrah did not look back, but she adjusted—fractionally—angling her descent to complement the push rather than mirror it.

"Hold spacing," she murmured to the Zorren nearest her. "Let their advance draw the response."

They adapted instantly. Not rigidly—never that—but with a predator's understanding of territory. They widened just enough to avoid becoming a single target, yet remained close enough to collapse inward at a moment's notice. Clawed boots found purchase along fractured stone as they descended deeper into the wound carved through the world.

Then—Alessandra Io. Not her voice. Not her presence in the traditional sense. But the effect. A shift in pressure. The Force bent—subtle, deliberate. Not chaotic like the Scars, but imposed. A countercurrent. Where the environment sought to distort and isolate, something in her approach pressed back—reshaping the tension, forcing clarity where there had been only unease.

Zarrah exhaled once, slow. "Good," she said under her breath, though not to anyone in particular. Her gaze lifted toward a jagged ridge ahead where the terrain narrowed into a natural choke. Smoke bled from its edges, thicker now. Movement below—no longer subtle. Something had committed.

"They're reacting," Zarrah said, voice low but precise. "Not to us alone." Which meant the battlefield was stabilizing—just enough. Opportunity.

Zarrah's voice cut across the comm, calm and precise beneath the static. "Alessandra—your pressure is noted. It's buying us clean movement. Thank you." A brief pause, the sound of shifting terrain in the background. "We're advancing along a fractured ridge line descending into a narrow choke—thermal vents, heavy ash, reduced visibility. Marking it now."

Another beat. "Rendezvous at the base of the split formation—where the ridge collapses into the lower basin. We'll hold just long enough to link up, then push forward." The channel clicked softly.

She raised a hand slightly, two fingers shifting forward. The Zorren responded as one. A silent acceleration. No roar. No charge. Just speed. They flowed down the incline, using broken terrain as cover, their advance cutting at an angle designed to intercept whatever response Connel had forced into motion—without crossing into his line or disrupting it. Parallel pressure. Complementary, not competing.

Zarrah moved at their center. Controlled. Intentional. Her eyes tracked the emerging shapes through heat shimmer and drifting ash, already mapping paths, collapse points, lines of retreat that would never be offered.

"On contact," she said quietly, "we don't hold." A brief pause as one of the Zorren shifted closer, awaiting the rest. Zarrah's gaze hardened, faint gold catching the firelight. "We break them." And with that, she stepped into the rising smoke—where the Scars had finally decided to fight back.

​

 

[Vexia Tahl]

Objective: 2 - Hearts and Minds
Location: Esau's Ridge, Tholatin
Tags: Tricia Kalamack | OPEN

The transport did not so much arrive as it announced itself.

A low, predatory hum rolled across Easau's Ridge first—deep enough to be felt in the ribs before it was ever heard. Then came the shadow, cutting across the fractured stone and wind-scoured platforms where negotiations had begun to take shape. The vessel descended with deliberate restraint, repulsors stirring dust into a slow, spiraling veil that seemed almost theatrical in its timing.

It settled like a statement. For a breath, nothing happened. Then the ramp lowered. Vexia Tahl emerged alone. She did not rush. She never did. Each step down the ramp was measured—inviting, rather than imposing. The wind caught her attire and, unlike before, it did not resist. It played with it.

Her look had shifted—no less deliberate, but far more dangerous in a different way. No rigid severity. Only diplomacy wrapped in allure.

A flowing outer cloak of sheer midnight fabric trailed behind her, split high along both sides to allow movement—and just enough reveal. The material was gossamer-thin, catching the light in soft ripples, threaded with faint iridescent shimmer that danced between deep violet and black depending on the angle. It moved like smoke around her, never quite still.

Beneath it—A sculpted dress of dark wine silk clung to her form with precise intention. The neckline dipped just enough to be suggestive without losing refinement, framed by a structured collar that rose elegantly at the back of her neck. The bodice was corseted in subtle paneling, not restrictive, but designed to guide the eye—accentuating rather than concealing.

A daring side-slit ran high along one leg, revealed intermittently as she walked, offering glimpses of toned movement and the sleek line of her stride. The fabric itself carried a soft luster, catching the ambient light like a slow-burning ember.

At her waist, a delicate chain-belt of brushed silver rested loosely, draping slightly off-center. Small geometric charms—minimalist, tasteful—shifted with her motion, adding the faintest suggestion of sound beneath the wind.

Her boots remained—but refined. Thigh-high now, black and seamless, merging almost imperceptibly with the dress when still, only distinguishing themselves when she moved. The heels were sharper, more intentional—not practical, but commanding.

Her arms were bare save for long, elegant gloves of sheer mesh that reached past her elbows, the same faint iridescence as her cloak catching along their surface. Subtle circuitry-like filaments traced along them—decorative, or perhaps not entirely so.

Jewelry was minimal, but strategic.

A single ear cuff of polished silver climbed the curve of her ear, set with a deep crimson stone that mirrored the tone of her dress. A thin chain draped from it, disappearing briefly into her hair before reemerging near her collarbone—a detail easy to miss, but impossible to forget once seen.

Her hair itself had been softened—styled to move, to frame, to invite attention rather than deflect it. The wind caught strands of it now, lending motion where before there had been only control. And her expression—No longer distant. Now it held the faintest trace of a knowing smile. Not warmth. Not quite. But something far more engaging.

By the time she reached the base of the ramp, the dust had begun to settle. And so had the attention. Vexia did not immediately address anyone. Her gaze moved instead—slow, deliberate, curious now. Reading reactions. Noting who watched too closely. Who tried not to.

And then—A flicker of recognition. Her eyes passed over Tricia Kalamack. Again, no direct acknowledgment. But this time, the shift was subtler… and sharper. A fraction longer. A hint of amusement at the corner of her lips—gone as quickly as it came. A silent understanding that needed no introduction.

Filed away. Considered. Perhaps even… anticipated. She continued forward, unhurried, letting the silence stretch just enough to become hers. When she finally spoke, her voice carried easily across the ridge—silken now, edged with something just a touch more intimate.

"Easau's Ridge," she began, head tilting slightly as her gaze swept across those gathered, "has a reputation for being… decisive." A pause. Measured. Her eyes lingered—not long enough to single anyone out, but long enough to make it feel like she might.

"I do hope," she added softly, almost playful now, "that reputation extends to its company."

She came to a stop then—perfectly placed, the slit of her dress settling, the cloak drifting into stillness behind her. Effortless. Inviting. And entirely, unmistakably, in control.

 

[Tricia Kalamack]

Vexia Tahl

Her head was a little foggy as she continued to float there the ones who were taking her around being careful as they saw another and were bringing her over to see her. Vexia Tahl was at least for them a port in the storm since as she was floating there she had moved a hand... the results had not been good as there were only two of them now guiding the sleeping woman. The other wilder getting medical attention as he had needed it with a missing arm and the two were moving. Trying to avoid as Tricia continued to float there the meeting aas they moved into the room something that got looks. A few of the people were viewing the floating master as she started rising up towards the ceiling but they held her in place. "We have already lost two people to injuries... we are going to need more people."

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Tholatin
Thread Objective: Shatter the Shackle
Mission Objective:

• Disable Sith AA guns.
• Eliminate the Sith overseers.

Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Tag: Zarrah Vex Connel Vanagor

Two gunners were cut down in a spray of crimson as a flying chakram ripped through their necks in a savage arc. One was cleanly decapitated, before his body hit the ground with a weighty thud. The other was struck across his neck, left choking on the blood pooling in his throat as his fingers clawed uselessly at the gaping wound. By the time he collapsed, the third gunner found a shimmering blade of annihilation buried inside his steaming guts, the nonharmonic plasma boiling and vaporizing his vital organs from within. A silent, wordless scream formed on his open lips, frozen in the moment of his death. Alessandra extracted the blade, letting the gunner fall to the ground as her photoreceptors turned luminescent, glowing a lethal fuchsia hue.

She pivoted around with sudden grace, facing two Sith troopers as they leveled their blasters in her direction.

Right on cue, twinned beams of maser energy lanced from her gaze, cutting through the air with a searing whine. The beams bisected both of the Sith troopers across their torsos in a vicious horizontal pass. Their bisected bodies crumpled over, blasters clattering to the ground as four separate pieces of flesh and armor followed suit, smoking at the edges where superheated plasma had cauterized the wounds.

The gynoid turned her attention towards the anti-aircraft cannon as her dovin basal heart quickened its beat. Gravity warped and compressed around the weapon, its metallic frame groaning and shrieking under the assault. Then, as if crushed by an invisible, gravitic fist, the cannon’s housing collapsed inward, reducing the weapon to a twisted knot of alloy and ruined components.

Alessandra scanned her surroundings for additional threats before glancing at the OmniLink on her forearm. Both of the AA guns that she had been tasked with taking out were disabled, leaving her clear to initiate the next stage of the mission.

It was then that her comm crackled to life as a feminine voice came through on the other end. The identification tag designated her as a Zarrah Vex, one of the leaders of the Zorren contingent tasked with infiltrating the Sith-controlled mining complexes. Her tone came through calm and precise, directing her to a rendezvous point situated at the lower basin of the ridgeline.

“Rendevous point at the lower basin of the ridgeline,” Alessandra replied. “Coordinates received and processed. ETA eight minutes. Eversor out!” The gynoid cut the line and started her ascent towards the ridgeline. Even with the rough, unforgiving terrain, her tireless synthetic endurance and perfect balance carried her effortlessly as she scaled the ridgeline, before flowing down the incline without missing a step.

She arrived at the designated rendezvous point within two minutes to spare, then revealed her presence just as the Zorren commander finished descending the basin with her squad. Her form shimmered into existence in front of the group, her photoreceptors dimming to an uncharged state as she fixed the commander with a wide-eyed gaze.

“The Sith overseers are next,” the gynoid said. “Where do you need me?”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eversor Bodysuit
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Utility
    
    • Biotech Tool Kit
• Eversor Rings
• Ornate Dueling Knife

 

[Vulpesen]

Objective 3: Static in the Void (Tech/Espionage)
-Make entry into the compound
Loadout: Battlefield
Tags: Ra'a'mah

Ra'a'mah's in his ear was a soothing influence, and Vulpesen felt his heart beat slower as he trudged through the shadows of the canyon. "'Varos 3, take the guard on the right." He knew Ra would warn him of any incoming trouble from her own vantage point, and laying in the dirt, Vulpesen produced a dagger from his belt and lined it up. Ahead, just under a hundred yards was a pair of guards at the maintenance entrance. Deep breathe in... gather the force... wait... the rifle next to him cracked as its slug broke the sound barrier, but otherwise, there was no explosion or boom. Ahead, one of the guards fell as blood splattered from behind his chest and out his back. His companion had just enough time to turn his head when Vulpesen released his own crack of supersonic metal. Whatever cries that might have sounded an alarm were silenced into a gurgle as the dagger took him in the throat. "Move."

The agents wasted no time, their legs popping into their secondary joints as they rushed forward on all fours. Vulpesen was last to enter as he stopped and made a sweeping motion with his hands. The bodies, in response, were consumed by the ground and the blood on the wall was wiped away as the moisture from the air scoured the blood from the walls. [Varos making entry. We'll let you know when we've muted their signal.] So far so good. The old adage said that the first plan never survived first contact... so far he'd proven it wrong.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Man’s Landing “No Man’s Space”
THOLATIN
THE SCARS (OBJ 1)

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI and Nanotech included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • Throwing Lightknives
  • Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

The ridge burned behind them.

AA silenced. Perimeter broken. Protectorate forces beginning to push deeper into the canyon veins now that the sky wasn’t trying to kill them. For Omega Squad? This was the part they didn’t talk about. The part where things got… personal.


Spread. Sweep and clear. Same tempo.


They moved. No rush. No panic. Just that steady, inevitable pressure that made enemies realize—too late—they were already surrounded. Blasterfire cracked in short, efficient bursts. Grenades punctuated the silence like commas, not exclamation points.


Raguel cleared a corridor of rock outcroppings. Jeremiel dragged another wounded clear without breaking rhythm. Raphael posted up, heavy weapon sweeping arcs like a lighthouse of violence. Gabriel? Already inside their systems, peeling away defenses like old paint.


And then—The Force shifted. Not subtle. Not quiet. Wild.


Like a storm that didn’t know what direction it wanted to rage in. Connel felt it before he saw him. Of course he did. At the far end of the ridge, standing among the wreckage of the emplacement—A figure. Young.

Too young.


Double-bladed saber ignited with a violent snap-hiss—crimson arcs spinning with more aggression than control. The Acolyte grinned. That kind of grin.

The one that says I already know how this ends.


“You’re strong…” the Acolyte said, pacing forward. “But not like me.”

Connel didn’t answer.


He stepped forward. Slow. Measured. Behind him, Omega Squad didn’t intervene. They felt it. This wasn’t their fight.


The Acolyte moved first. Of course he did. A blur of red. Spinning staff cutting wide, aggressive arcs meant to overwhelm, to dominate space, to force retreat—

Connel didn’t retreat.


Night and Day ignited.

Indigo stormlight in one hand. Permafrost dawn in the other. The first clash— CRACK. The thunderous clash of three weapons. The Acolyte was strong, fast, but not smart. The Acolyte pushed hard. Too hard. Every strike heavy. Every motion loud with intent.


Power without patience.


Speed without discipline.


Connel gave him nothing. He absorbed it. Redirected the haphazard blows like it was a training session. Let the staff spin past him instead of meeting it head-on. A step inside the arc.
Then a turn of the shoulder., followed by a deflection. Not flashy—just correct.


Broken Gate. The Acolyte pressed harder. He was faster, angrier, because he could feel it now. Something was wrong. He should have ripped through these fools already.

… but his blows weren’t landing. They were being… dismissed.


Connel moved like he’d already seen the fight. Because in a way—he had.

Vendaxa.


Two Sith. Fire. Pain. Failure. That same chaos. That same arrogance. That same belief that power alone decided outcomes. He was the Jedi to that Acolyte.


The Acolyte spun low-high—A textbook kill sequence.


Connel stepped through it. Not around. Nor away. Through. One blade caught the staff mid-rotation. The other angled in—not to strike. To Threaten.


The Acolyte faltered.

Just for a fraction. That was enough. A twist. A bind. This brought a controlled break in the rhythm—one that ripped the saberstaff from the Acolyte’s grip letting it clatter across the stone.


The… silence. The kid stumbled back, breath sharp, eyes wide now. Confusion replaced arrogance.

Connel advanced. One step. Then another.

He was in no rush, no need to be. He held no anger, this kid was outclassed before he approached. No, he just walked with inevitability.

The Acolyte roared and lunged—barehanded, Force flaring wildly—

Connel didn’t even raise his blades. Just stepped aside with a subtle shift. A pivot. Then a single, precise thrust—Permafrost blue slipped forward—and stopped.


Not through the heart. Not through the spine, but soft tissue. Clean. Controlled.

The Acolyte froze, eyes wide. Breath caught. How could he? A proponent of the Dark Side be defeated by Jedi weakness?

The saber withdrew. The kid staggered. Falling—Connel caught him. Lowered him. Not gently. But not carelessly. What was this? One last insult?


The Acolyte tried to speak. Tried to hold onto something—anger, pride, anything—


Connel leaned in, voice low. Calm. Certain. Live… or die, Sith.


The answer came through clenched teeth. Weak. But defiant. “…Die.”


A moment passed, a sigh from the Shadow who just looked at him. Connel nodded once. Like that answer mattered. Like it meant something.

Then quietly— I could have killed you… any time I wanted. The words didn’t carry anger, nor carry pride. Just truth. You have to live with that.


The Acolyte’s vision faded. Darkness took him.


And Connel stayed there for a moment. Looking at him. But not really seeing him.


Vendaxa burned behind his eyes. The pain. The damage. The long road back. The version of himself that didn’t have this choice.


A slow breath later.

Then—something shifted. It was not dramatic, nor loud. But real.


The past doesn’t own this moment. It informs it. Sharpens it. But it doesn’t decide it.


Connel rose. Night and Day dimmed. Behind him, Omega Squad moved like nothing had paused. Because nothing had.


Michael’s voice came over comms. [Area’s clear. Moving to next sector.]


Connel looked once more at the fallen Acolyte.


Then turned.


And walked away. Not as a man defined by what happened on Vendaxa. But as one who finally understood—he wasn’t surviving it anymore. He was choosing what came after.

TAGS • Zarrah Vex • Alessandra Io

Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
THOLATIN
OBJECTIVE I: SHATTER THE SHACKLE

If Ronhar had said it once, he had said it a thousand times, but these were truly strange times that he found himself living in.

The United Protectorate of Sovereign Systems had commenced its attack on Tholatin against the false Imperial and Sith contingent that still called the world home. Normally, the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant would have had no interest in a world so far from its own borders, but the combination of being able to destroy yet another rival Imperial faction, coupled with the Imperial Remnant's earlier trade meeting with Vulpesen , Ra'a'mah , and their people, had ultimately caused Mahporeem to send a small task force to the world to assist the UPSS in its combat operations. It didn't hurt that the Imperial Remnant would be able to potentially "liberate" some additional resources from the world while increasing its own network of friendly partners and allies. All in all, it was a good idea to lend support, and that was exactly what Ronhar and his men intended to do.

The MIN Night Reaver, along with a number of Lambda B-TIE Gunship/Transports and Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators began lending their fire support in the assistance of UPSS ground forces, strafing enemy infantry and bombarding enemy droids wherever if was that they might appear. Further away, directly out of Tholatin's atmosphere, came a number of Nebulon Fire-class Light Carriers and a single Vilifier-class Star Destroyer, fully prepared to support the UPSS until the end of ground fighting. Though relatively small by Imperial standards, Ronhar hoped that this task force would prove to be the difference in the UPSS succeeding against the rogue Imperial and Sith threat.

As the Night Reaver landed on the surface of the planet, Ronhar hopped off, supported by his Storm Commandos, ARC Troopers and even a few Junkyard Knights, with the rest of his forces, including Mahporeenian armor, still en route to the landing site. Not that it would matter in the long run, since Ronhar and company were more than capable of securing the area on their own, but it never hurt to have as many friendly assets in play as possible, and the Imperial Remnant was nothing if not cautious about when and where it chose to do battle.

Communications went out amongst the UPSS forces, informing them of the Mahporeenian presence on the planet and reminding them that the Imperial Remnant was here to help them, not to be there enemies. Hopefully, this would reduce any instances of friendly fire and make Mahporeenian integration into the battle much smoother than it would be otherwise. Whether or not the UPSS accepted them as their own was an entirely different matter.

Ronhar would do his best to convince them he was a friend, and not just in it for the short term!

TAGS:
OPEN