Public [OPEN to All] Operation: Starve the Core

[Csariden]

OPERATION: STARVE THE CORE
Strike from the Bones of Kuat Drive Yard

The ashes of Kuat’s orbital ring have been welded into something far more dangerous: a forward operating base for the Chiss Revengeancy and its allies. From the shipyard’s grave, raiders and revolutionaries now strike deep into the Empire’s arteries.

A major Core-bound convoy of Imperial supply ships has been marked for destruction. It carries not only raw materials and munitions, but key personnel responsible for maintaining Imperial infrastructure in the sector. The route is heavily guarded — a shield of Star Destroyers, escort frigates, and patrol wings.

Today, the shield breaks.

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OBJECTIVES

Objective 1: Take the Cargo – (Lead: Triggen)
Board and seize Imperial supply ships intact. These transports are priority targets — the supplies they carry will be repurposed to fuel the next phase of the insurgency. Expect heavy resistance from onboard security forces and automated defense systems. Secure the bridge, engineering, and cargo bays.

Objective 2: Burn the Rest – (Leads: Whottoomuzz Chantin )
Dogfight in the void. Rebel starfighters are tasked with eliminating all supply vessels not marked for seizure. Disable or destroy escort craft, rip apart transport barges, and cripple any Star Destroyers attempting to close the net. Swarming TIE wings, capital ship flak, and Imperial gunnery crews will make this a meat grinder. No Mercy.

Objective 3: The Broadcast – (Lead: Csariden )
On a commandeered civilian station along the convoy route, key heads of Imperial infrastructure for the region — including an Imperial Moff — have been gathered as hostages. Csariden will broadcast their fates live to the Holonet, demanding hostage negotiation from the Galactic Empire. If there’s no response, executions will begin on-air. This is more than intimidation. This is a message that the Empire’s leadership is not untouchable, and the actions of Darth Solipsis have not been forgotten.

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The Core’s lifeblood will spill out in the open, for all the galaxy to see.

@OPEN to All​

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[Csariden]

Objective 1: Take the Cargo

POV: Triggen

The cutting torch bit into the Star Destroyer’s belly with a scream of liquefying durasteel. The breach was small at first; a palm-sized hole spilling molten droplets into the void, then wide enough for a gauntleted hand to pry apart.

Triggen was first through. His boots magnetized to the deck plating in the instant he landed, scattergun sweeping the corridor. The first stormtrooper’s visor barely had time to register the intruders before the shot took him off his feet.

Behind him, the Revenants poured in: black-armored, faceless, each moving with grim economy. One planted a charge on a bulkhead door; another kicked the smoking body of a naval officer aside without breaking stride.

They advanced in staggered pairs, cutting through crew and troopers alike. No words, no wasted motion — only the hiss of vibroblades and the staccato bursts of captured Imperial rifles.

Triggen’s voice broke the silence at last.

“Bridge isn’t the prize. Nav center is. Lock it down and the rest of this tub is blind to hyperlanes.”

They turned down a side corridor, ducking blaster fire. A Revenant took a bolt to the chestplate and kept moving, returning Charric fire – Maser beams of both kinetic and thermal energy – until the hall went quiet.

Somewhere deeper in the ship, alarms howled. The walls shuddered; whether from external fire or their own boarding craft docking again, none could tell.

Triggen reloaded, eyes fixed down the next stretch of deck.

“Move. Every second we waste, someone else is bleeding for it.”

They pressed on toward the nav hub, boots ringing in rhythm, like a slow drumbeat toward the heart of the beast.

Objective 3: The Broadcast

The feed was shaky at first — a burst of static, a blurred image of a blood-slick floor, the sound of someone sobbing off-camera.

Then the picture stabilized.

A row of kneeling Imperial officers filled the frame, hands bound in front, uniform tunics torn and stained. A few wore rank plates that glittered with authority; one wore the white-and-gold trim of a Moff’s regalia. They were flanked by two Revenants, rifles held low but ready, helmets blank and unblinking.

At the center of the frame stood Csariden. His cybernetic limbs caught the light in shards of polished durasteel, vibroblade humming low at his side. Blue skin, crimson eyes, hair as white as ground glass — and a smile with no warmth in it.

He stepped forward until the lens caught every line of his face.

“Denon was Only the beginning. Epoch and Kuat merely steps on our path”

His voice carried no static — crisp, cold, deliberate.

“This convoy carries the tools and the tyrants that keep your Empire fed, that wish to make the core complacent and docile. Today, tyrants kneel.”

He paced between the prisoners, bootsteps ringing on durasteel. The camera tracked him as if afraid to look away.

“You can answer this broadcast. You can stop what happens next. Or…” He rested the tip of his blade under the Moff’s chin, tilting the man’s face up toward the galaxy watching. “…you can watch him die. Along with every one of them.”

A faint hum of holoprojectors filled the silence before he turned directly to the lens.

“Tell your Emperor this: Csilla is not forgotten. Darth Solipsis will die once more — by my hand, or by the countless souls he’s wronged.”

The vibroblade’s edge glowed brighter. Somewhere behind him, a prisoner began to weep.
The feed cut to black.

@Open