Faction Operation Ashbreaker [Imperial, BIR]

[SOVCOM]

Operation Ashbreaker

Order • Authority • Continuity

Oricon burns beneath a sky poisoned by ash, fear, and old heresies. Among its broken fortresses, a Dread-aligned cult clashes with a Jedi strike team for control of ruins neither side has the right to claim, each dragging another priesthood of the Force across ground already drowned in madness. Into this war descends the Empire: not as ally, not as arbiter, and not as supplicant before Sith relic or Jedi mandate. Dropships cut through the smoke, banners rise over the landing zone, and the order is issued across all Imperial channels with absolute clarity: the cult will be broken, the Jedi will be driven from the field, the vaults will be seized, and Oricon will be corrected by Imperial will.

OOC: The thread will take place in two phases, each marked by a setup post. It is open to all Imperial characters. Here is an OOC thread for questions and coordination.

Orinn Darge | Ronhar Tane | Cardtiger | Kaelya Vossan | Captain Charles | Vas Aleksei

Open to all Imperials! ​

Phase 1: Ashfall
Imperial forces will conduct an assault landing into the active engagement zone where Jedi strike elements and Dread-aligned Sith cultists are presently contesting the Oricon ruins. No alliance, truce, or battlefield accommodation is authorized. The cult is to be treated as a hostile theocratic insurgency; the Jedi are to be treated as unauthorized Force militants interfering in an Imperial correction. All participating Imperial units are ordered to break the existing battle line, establish a secured landing perimeter, destroy or rout enemy formations on both sides, and raise the Imperial standard over the contested ground. This operation is not a liberation, nor a rescue. It is the reassertion of secular Imperial authority over a world abandoned to prophets, mystics, and self-appointed saviors.

We crush antique religions by overwhelming force.

Spoiler: Tactical Map

Phase 2: Vault Breaker
While Objective Ashfall draws the enemy into open battle, designated Imperial elements will penetrate the lower vault-complex beneath the ruin field and secure all chambers, archives, prisoners, relics, and surviving custodians therein. Intelligence indicates that the cult's inner hierarchy has withdrawn assets below ground, including records linked to its presiding hierophant and a classified Dread Master artifact believed to be a fractured mask segment capable of inducing corruption through blood contact, laceration, or ritualized cutting. No object recovered is to be venerated, activated, worn, translated aloud, or handled without containment authority. Left-behind guards are to be captured where useful, interrogated without regard for religious privilege, and processed for knowledge of the cult leader's location, the artifact's function, and any Jedi attempt to breach the vault before Imperial seizure is complete.

We do not merely break the spine but also the spirit of any enemy.

Issued under Imperial authority

 

[SOVCOM]

Ashfall
Phase 1

Order • Authority • Continuity

Phase One: Ashfall

Oricon was already at war when the Imperial force arrived. Beneath a sky choked with volcanic ash and ember-lit cloud, the broken plain before the old ruins had become a killing ground where two rival priesthoods bled each other over stones that should have been left buried. The Dread cult held the fortress district to the east, its walls blackened by centuries of fire and fear, its banners hanging from shattered towers like funeral cloth. From within those ruins came the pulse of ritual engines, the scream of corrupted warbands, and the dull red glare of symbols carved into basalt and bone. Opposing them across the blasted center, the Jedi strike team had driven deep into the engagement zone, disciplined but exposed, their advance slowed by lava vents, falling ash, fractured ground, and enemies who seemed to fight with the desperation of the condemned.

The battlefield was no clean front. It was a volcanic waste of knife-edged ridges, cracked obsidian flats, steam vents, collapsed trenches, and small lava lakes that turned the ash above them into a copper haze. Blaster fire crossed through smoke already torn by energy blades and cult lightning. The air carried static, cinders, and the taste of metal. Shapes moved through the murk in every direction: cult zealots pouring from breaches in the ruins, Jedi and their attached soldiers trying to hold shattered cover, beasts or half-mad converts surging between both lines. Orders vanished into interference. Friend and enemy were often distinguished only by silhouette, doctrine, and the direction from which death came.

Then the Imperial signal cut across every open channel.

No negotiation followed it. No offer of coordination. No request for recognition. The message was a declaration of correction, cold and absolute: the Sith cult was to be exterminated as a theocratic insurgency, the Jedi incursion driven from the field as unauthorized Force militancy, and Oricon brought under Imperial control by force of arms. Moments later, dropships descended through the ash clouds on hard-burning engines, searchlights raking the volcanic surface as landing beacons flared at the flank of the central battle. LZ Ashfall ignited under fire. Anti-air bolts climbed toward the descending craft; return fire tore through the smoke; armored hulls hammered down onto black stone close enough for the shock of landing to roll across the engagement zone.

Ramps fell. Stormtroopers, infantry, armor crews, combat engineers, medics, pilots, command elements, special forces, and attached Imperial formations surged into the ash with one shared mandate: establish the landing zone, break the battle line, and strike both sides without distinction. The first Imperial volleys did not ask who had started the war. They answered who would end it. Ahead lay the central engagement zone, where Jedi and Sith were still locked in combat. Beyond it, the cult-held ruins burned behind their broken walls. Between them and the Imperial landing force stretched a field of smoke, lava, screams, and opportunity. Phase One had begun.

Issued under Imperial authority

 

[Tiber Fel]

TIBER FEL

Regent · General · Architect of Obedience

:: Transmission Classification: Dorn-Obsidian // Authority Confirmed // Compliance Expected ::
:: Objective: Securing the LZ ::
:: Targets: OPEN ::

The HAAT/i came down through Oricon's poisoned sky with its engines screaming against the ash. Defensive fire climbed to meet it in red and violet streaks, some passing wide, others striking close enough to make the troop bay shudder around its occupants. Warning lights pulsed across black armour. The gunship's cannons answered through the smoke, hammering at half-seen shapes below while the pilot forced the transport toward the landing zone.

Tiber Fel stood braced beneath the crimson emergency lighting, one gauntleted hand locked around an overhead restraint. Reports collapsed into one another across the command channel: incoming fire, obscured beacons, damaged craft, units landing off-mark. No clean formation. No perfect descent. Only momentum.

The gunship struck the ground hard enough to throw men against the bulkheads.

Its ramp dropped into gunfire.

The first stormtroopers of the 501st Legion went down firing, red-marked armour cutting through the ash as they spilled into a landing zone that had not yet been secured. Bolts snapped against the gunship's hull. One trooper fell before reaching cover. Another dragged him behind a ridge of broken basalt while the rest answered with disciplined volleys into the smoke.

Tiber descended behind them.

Ash rolled over his armour. Blaster fire crossed the ground ahead in violent flashes, illuminating cultists moving between rocks and distant figures withdrawing through the haze. The 501st was not forming a perimeter so much as carving one out by force, squad by squad, position by position.

"Advance on the eastern approach," Tiber ordered calmly, his blade flickering as it redirected a blaster bolt. "Second wave incoming, clear the ridge! No gaps. No drift."

A detonation threw black earth across the landing zone. The command staff had barely emerged from the transport before they were forced behind its armoured flank. Signal equipment remained boxed. Officers shouted over static and weapons fire. The headquarters would exist only after the ground beneath it had been taken.

Tiber watched the 501st push outward through the ash, brutal and methodical even under fire.

"Consolidate Ashfall," he said across the Legion net. "Then we open the road."

Order is not negotiated. It is enforced.

 

[Captain Charles]

Positioning​

The tactical picture was clear. Two hostile forces. No civilians. One mandate. Destroy.

Charles studied the tactical displays for approximately four seconds before issuing his orders. Normally he would be hesitant to rain down such heavy fire indiscriminately, but the intelligence was clear, no innocents would be caught in the crossfire. The only people who would suffer were those who understood their actions had a price.

“Malren (Tactical Officer), confirm all ships are in position.”

“All ships in position sir.”

“Open fire. Independent fire control, concentrate on the battlefield where the Sith and Jedi are fighting.”

“Aye sir.”

He began to relay the orders.

The Stryker II opened fire first, followed by the rest of First Scouting Squadron. Beautiful rippling salvos loosed green turbolasers screaming down towards their targets. The sight almost made one forget the damage that would happen below.

He watched for a minute before continuing his orders.

“Ferrin (Communications Officer), inform me when allied ground forces get in close contact with the enemy. That’s when we switch fire to the Ruins.”

“Aye sir.”

“Edric (Gunnery Officer), be ready for when that message comes. Keep up the rate of fire. Targets are your choice, but ensure the battlefield is blanketed.”

“Aye sir. These guys won’t know what hit them.” he replied with a smirk.

“Tarris (Hangar Officer), launch Death, Savage and Killer Squadrons. There may be enemy fighters roaming around. Have them maintain a defensive screen for now.”

“Aye sir. Death Squadron is launching as we speak.”

The battle continued below, the planet’s dark clouds masking any sort of visual observation. It would be a relatively easy mission, just raze the battlefield and ruins, then go home.

He put his hand on his chin. He hoped the ground forces were doing well.

 

[Orinn Darge]

Rampart Platoon, MSOC "Valkyrie" Deployment

Location: Upper Atmosphere to Surface Drop Zone, Outer Ruin Field - Planet Oricon
Commander: First Lieutenant Orrin Darge (Rampart 1)
Tags: SOVCOM Tiber Fel Captain Charles Ronhar Tane

The troop bay of the lead Lambda B-TIE gunship shuddered violently as it punched through Oricon's ash-choked stratosphere. Inside, the crimson jump-lights bathed the thirty-one men of Rampart Platoon in a bloody hue, catching the scuffed ivory duraplast and sharp field-green markings of their custom Valkyrie-class armor.

First Lieutenant Orrin Darge stood braced at the forward bulkhead, his gauntleted hand locked onto an overhead restraint. Through his helmet's polarized visor, he watched the tactical deck display flicker erratically. Above them, green turbolaser salvos from the MIR Stryker II and First Scouting Squadron were ripping through the copper clouds, blanket-bombing the central battlefield.

Originally, Rampart Platoon's mission blueprint had been clear, covert, and highly precise: bypass the chaotic meat-grinder of Phase One completely, slip into an isolated insertion zone to the sub-surface, and breach the lower vaults to seize the Dread cult's fractured relics.
Oricon's burning sky had a different plan.

"Rampart 1, this is Valkyrie Flight Lead," the pilot's voice crackled through the static-choked comms loop, fighting the screams of the engines. "We're hitting a massive anti-air wall and taking small arms fire from multiple ground contacts on our designated approach vector to the vaults. The secondary routes are entirely blocked by debris from the orbital bombardment. I have to drop you off-mark, right on the western flank of the Phase One battleground!"

Orrin didn't hesitate. His pragmatism overrode the shattered plan instantly. "Do it. Put us down on the closest stable rock shelf."

The dropship flared its maneuvering thrusters, hammering down hard onto an obsidian ridge overlooking a volcanic waste of jagged trenches and small lava lakes. The moment the ventral doors slammed open, a howling gale of toxic ash and snapping blaster fire rolled into the bay.

"Rampart! Double-time off the ramps! Move, move, move!" Sergeant Major Hamish Horvath's raspy voice boomed across the platoon channel. Rampart 2 was already moving, his massive frame driving the men down into the ash-gray gloom.

Orrin hit the black stone, snapping his thumb selector on his G-12 Assault Blaster Carbine as he raised his hand to his long-range comms. "Stryker II Command, this is Rampart 1. We are off-mark at LZ Ashfall. Covert insertion to secondary objective is a no-go at this time, the vault approach vectors are entirely compromised by local anti-air fire."

The response from the Stryker II's radio operator was immediate, crackling through the heavy atmospheric interference.

"Copy that, Rampart 1. Secondary objective is temporarily shelved. Be advised, elements from the 501st are taking heavy fire trying to carve out a perimeter in the central waste. Your platoon is retasked. Current orders are to establish a support-by-fire position on that ridge and provide overwatch and suppression for their forces. Stand by for new vectors for original objective. Be ready to break off."

"Roger, Command. Retasking acknowledged," Orrin replied, his voice calm and steady as he turned back to his squad leaders. The naive scholar he had been before Capitol Five was entirely gone; only the officer remained.

"Hammer 1, secure that ridge line! Set up SBF position overlooking the valley!" Orrin ordered, pointing his G-12 toward a natural basalt shelf that dominated the approach path. "I want suppressing fire on those cult zealots, sustained rate. Specter, get me eyes in the sky and get your long gun up. Grenadiers, check fire, but try to disburse those formations. We're gonna give those 501st boys some breathing room!"

The heavy weapons specialists of Hammer Squad scrambled up the obsidian incline with practiced, military synchronicity and took up their firing positions. Within seconds, multiple portable energy shields hissed to life, anchoring into the rock and projecting their high-energy light barriers to deflect incoming fire. Behind the shields, the gun crews rapidly mounted their high-output NZ/HBR-01A's while the grenadiers loaded high-explosive ordnance into the drums of their "Hammerstrike" launchers.

Beside them, the marksmen of Specter Squad unslung their G-11 carbines and the sharpshooters deployed their AT-M15 rifles. As they set up, the drone operator began launching a synchronized grid of Seeker-4 reconnaissance drones straight into the ash clouds to map the enemy trenches, while their tactical jamming rigs began trying to scramble the enemy's communications.

Orrin knelt behind the main barricade, loading a fresh energy cell into his blaster as his HUD synced with the drone telemetry, painting the targets in glowing orange arrays. Through the dust, he could see the distant flash of lightsabers, red-marked stormtroopers dodging lightning, and the dark silhouette of the cult-held ruins looming to the east.

"Rampart 2, confirm all sections are locked in," Orrin transmitted to Horvath.

"Hammer is green, Specter has the eyes, Archer and Siren are holding our rear flank," the Sergeant Major rumbled back as he took stock of his men, the heavy barrel of his weapon steady. "Standing by to unleash hell, boss!."

Prior to giving the command to execute, Orrin opened an encrypted communication channel to the 501st's operational commander.

"Ground Command, this is Rampart Platoon. Our dropships were forced off-mark by anti-air. We have been diverted and are currently hard-dropped on the western basalt ridge overlooking the flank of the Phase One engagement zone. Be advised: we have established a support-by-fire position overlooking the valley floor. My teams will commence, sustained suppressive fire directly into the eastern breaches and we are streaming real-time structural layout overlays and enemy trench positioning straight to your tactical nets. We can't stay up here all day, so if you've got any paritcular thorns in your side, call 'em out. At least for now, we have the ridge. "Rampart out."

Orrin returned his focus to his men set up along the ridgeline and raised his carbine. Specter's drones were tracking a massive wave of cult zealots rushing towards the 501st squads down in the flats.

"Rampart 1 to all teams," Darge commanded over the radio, his voice cold and resolute. "Commence fire!."

 

[R'ayne Asara]

phase 2: vault breaker

[]

An Untold Awakening

​

weapon: draconic scourge
outfit: Xx™
tag(s): open

The moment my shuttle settled upon the designated Imperial landing zone, the volcanic world of Oricon greeted me with its customary silence; a silence swollen with madness, ancient suffering, and the lingering whispers of entities that should have remained forgotten beneath the stars.

Black stone spires, resting in the horizon, clawed toward the heavens like the fingers of curious little children, while distant structures flickered with the fiery glow of conflict.

Reports claimed the Dread Masters and their devoted sycophants had seized relics of considerable value and taken citizens captive within the cult-held structures beyond the battlefield.

The prisoners were meaningless to me.

Their lives possessed no worth beyond the secrets buried within their genetic coding and blood. The relics interested me only slightly more.

What truly drew me to Oricon was a sensation buried deep within the Force; a familiar corruption, ancient and alluring, beckoning from somewhere beyond the ruins, where Darth Vitus once called his dark sanctuary.

Between myself and that calling stood the designated Central Engagement Zone, a wasteland littered with Jedi, Sith cultists, and every fool unfortunate enough to mistake my purpose for theirs.

They were not obstacles.

They were prey.

I stood motionless at the edge of the landing zone, my black and red robes stirring in the hot wind as I slowly raised my hooded gaze toward the burning heavens. Above, several Imperial transports descended through the clouds, their engines burning like falling stars against the diseased sky.

Nearby, a stormtrooper followed my gaze and chuckled nervously beneath his helmet. “Wonder what’s in there,” he remarked, watching the incoming vessels. A smile crept beneath my hood, unseen yet unmistakable within the Force.

“A surprise,” I purred, my voice carrying a playful sweetness laced with venom. The trooper laughed uneasily, unaware of the truth hidden behind my amusement.

I could already feel them aboard those transports; horrors born from alchemy, gene corruption, and Sith ambition. Soon they would descend upon Oricon, and when they did, neither Jedi nor Sith cultist would matter.

The battlefield would belong to a different kind of monster.​

 

[Captain Charles]

The Ground Assault
TAGS: Orinn Darge ​

“Sir, Sergeant Gunther reports he has relayed an order to Rampart 1 from sector command. They are to establish a support-by-fire position on Ridge-76 and provide overwatch and suppression for the advancing 501st.” reported Voss, glancing up from his station to make eye contact with Charles.

“Good, tell him and the other Marines who are working on coordination with the ground forces to keep you updated.” replied Charles, meeting his eyes before returning his attention to the tactical displays. He knew the look, the Major and his men were itching for action, but he also knew that they were of better use up here.

“Edric, shift fire to the anti-air batteries. They seem to be giving our landing craft a bit of trouble.”

“On it.”

The Squadron adjusted their fire, the ripple salvos giving way to single bursts as each turret tracked and eliminated the surface emplacements.

He checked the tactical displays. Sure enough, there were increasingly fewer red emplacement markings on the ground and more blue drop ships getting through.

Good, keep up the work, he thought with a hint of satisfaction. His Crews were making short work of their targets. It would only be a matter of time.

 

[Vas Aleksei]

- CONTROL | AMPUTATE | STABILIZE -

TAGS: SOVCOM | Tiber Fel | Orinn Darge | Captain Charles | Ronhar Tane
LOCATION: LZ Ashfall
OBJECTIVE: Stabilization of immediate area
TARGETS: Open

Vas flowed into the fury headstrong, heat brushed across the upper half of his exposed face like the hot breath of some formless beast, his eyes scanning over the already deployed forces working towards the goal of establishing a foothold. Success was contingent upon establishing an anchor, and without it, there would be no success in advancing further ahead to the northeastern zone. Two crimson blades ignited and snapped upward, a volley of blaster bolts seeking out prey, being blocked and deflected as Vas pushed forward, further out to aid in perimeter security.

As important as it was to seek operational stability, it was just as important to Vas that he prove himself worthy in the eyes of the Inquisitorius; his success here rested on the shoulders of every able body attempting to turn the tide, their wounds and failures would also reflect on his ability to defend, to display the unwavering commitment of Imperial decree. They would fight to see the shining light of their efforts, to see the bodies of the enemy fallen and broken before their might.

"Consolidate Ashfall"

These words drilled themselves deeply into Vas' mind, even as the cacophony of blaster discharge and screaming voices erupted around him. There would be no retreat, and there would certainly be no hesitation. These lands would belong to them - to the Empire.

Ash fell like snow, brief glimpses of cobalt and sanguine, among various other hues, glowed both in the distance and closer nearby as lightsabers connected again and again, religious feud pushing and pulling towards no direction at all as bodies undoubtedly covered the surface like a carpet of ignorance.

They would feed the advancement of his career, they would earn him a proud moment of reflection after they stood atop their bones, either banner set aflame or torn to ribbons. Vas' path was clear, and now was the time to carve it out precisely as he envisioned it.

Stray bolts continued towards the Acolyte and those around him, he shifted his position and pressed further into the unknown, batting back the defiance of weaponry as he sought targets to tear into. Imperial blood and sweat was worth much more than their hubris, and Vas would certainly make them understand that.

 

[Rasha Popova]

Location: Orbit above Oricon
Objective: A Test of Mettle
Tags: Captain Charles Orinn Darge Tiber Fel Vas Aleksei

Rasha had only just joined the Imperials, and she was being thrust into an important mission. Her experience as an Admiral earned her a spot amongst the Empire's higher ranks, essentially maintaining her previous rank. Her new troops and equipment were far more unique, but such was to be expected. But she had ambitions to turn ramshackle equipment into treasure by use of tactics and an eye for excellence.

"Reports from the surface ma'am! Rates of attrition have been unusually high for our air crews. The enemies anti-air screen seems effective."

Rasha had a conundrum before her, how best to eliminate the enemy's anti-air assets. To bombard them from orbit was to risk moving assets away from their orbital stations, to say nothing of the chances of destroying their own troops caught in the mix.

"We will deploy marines to the planet, let the fist of Mahporeem's Navy be unleashed," Rasha said, an utmost confidence in her voice. "Send word down to Tyranix, I want the raiders at full strength."

The raiders in question were a Battalion of Mahporeemian Naval Troopers hand picked to do fleet operations. Originally intended for boarding actions, this would be an experiment in their use beyond starship operations. A gamble that might pay off, or spell disaster for many men in the hold of The Tyranix.

Inside The Tyranix

There were some 900 Marines all aboard the landing vessel, prepared for war on other ships. They'd all been trained in anti-gravity maneuvers, ship boarding and clearing, and all other necessary protocols for securing ships. What they were less experienced in was standard ground warfare. It was yet to be decided whether or not they could adapt to a land war.

The first group on the planet would be a platoon of marines and their necessary vehicles. Their objective was to move as quickly as possible, and silence all AA emplacements to secure landing zones for the fleet.

Orders had come down from above, 2nd Lieutenant Daven Prell would be leading the operation, with a force of 32 marines behind him. He was trying to shake the feeling of overwhelming anxiety that came from a first combat. He hadn't but just finished officer training, and now he was being thrown into some grand experiment.

"Alright troops listen up! I just got orders that there's significant AA on the planet, and it's our job to make those guns silent! I know none of us are happy with this, but Hell, imagine this as the galaxy's biggest space station," Daven said, trying to keep his joviality intact. "We will be launching in 3 Victors: Sickle, Torch, and Hammer."

All three Cohorts were already being loaded into the shuttles, their armaments tailored to the task ahead. Sickle and Hammer with rotary blasters, and Torch with a grenade launcher. These would be their armored shelters once they deployed to the planet. Certainly nothing compared to their home on The Tyranix.

Once they'd broken through the atmosphere, Daven began scanning the comms for friendly forces. He heard reports of heavy fire and even heavier resistance. This was not going to be a walk on a beach, not by a long shot...

"This is Royal 6 to all friendly units, we're inbound to LZ Ashfall as we speak." By the sounds of it, they were the lucky ones. Which did nothing to calm Prell's worries...