Playing With The Big Boys Now | TSE Invasion of TJE's Csilla Hex

[Darth Carnifex]

Heretics.

Infidels.

Blasphemers.

The true enemies of the Sith Empire, those that would pervert or scorn its teachings for unorthodox beliefs. For years they had sat on the fringes, a minor nuisance in the eyes of the Sith Emperor as he expanded his dominion across the stars through the might of arms and the strength of will.

But all of that has changed.

A defector from the ranks of the rogue Sith who antagonized the New Republic over Duro and Humbarine revealed to the Emperor the true extent of their heresy, providing every scrap of information he could in return for absolution of his transgressions.

Spies and informants in the Chiss territories confirmed portions of the rogue Sith’s intelligence, and plans were drawn up for the maneuvering of military assets to the Unknown Regions. Previously hidden ship caches were also activated throughout the region, manned by an army of clones that the Sith Emperor had been breeding for well over a decade.

With his Dejarik pieces in place, the Emperor authorized a lightning strike on the Chiss homeworld to deprive the heretics of a foothold in the Ascendancy.

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“Achieving hyperspace terminus.”

The words had barely left the operator’s mouth before the kaleidoscopic incandescence of hyperspace peeled away to grounded realspace, the Star Destroyer lurching as it came to a grinding halt. Dozens, no, hundreds of other warships quickly joined the lone destroyer, the spear-tip of what seemed to be a massive invasion fleet over Cormit. The valiant defenders of Cormit would’ve picked up the fleet on approach long before it had actually arrived, the Sith-Imperials making no effort to mask their arrival as a tactic of intimidation.

Lord Admiral Tergre Ladfon, a Human male from the Imperial throneworld of Bastion, stood at the head of this vast armada. He had served the Sith Emperor longer than most, long before he had claimed that title following the expulsion of the Silver Jedi from Dromund Kaas. Though his body had been crippled by war and was now dependent on extensive cybernetics to keep him alive, he served his duty with a fervor that teetered on fanatical devotion.

Holo-magnification identified a slew of enemy vessels converging to halt the Sith Empire’s attack on Cormit, causing the Lord Admiral’s mouth to scowl with anxiety. He knew what was at stake here, what depended on this attack’s success.

“For the Emperor, we give our lives for the future.”

The sentiment was shared with many onboard the command bridge, they had all pledged their lives for the Empire and were perfectly willing to lay them down for what they believed was right.

Long-range turbolaser barrage began as squadrons of strikecraft billowed forth from open hangar bays, the once empty space over Cormit erupting in a pitched battle.

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Meanwhile, the true might of the Sith Empire had yet to be unleashed.

The strike at Cormit was designed as a diversion, a feint to coax the enemy’s strength elsewhere while the Emperor moved to deliver the coup de grace. Even as the battle over Cormit reached its first-hour mark, a fleet three times as grand moved out of the Chiss Redoubt in the Galactic North. For many months they had slowly gathered, the Sith Empire aligning itself with the Empire of the Hand and the surviving remnants of Isamu Baelor’s Iron Empire to gain critical knowledge of Chiss space and its surrounding sectors.

Utilizing secret hyperspace coordinates, the Sith Empire gathered in secret.

Now the time had come to strike at the heretics which threatened to pollute the sanctity of the Sith. Led by the Empire’s mightiest warships, the massive war fleet emerged from the sanctuary of the Chiss Redoubt and entered hyperspace on a direct course to their true objective.

The capital of the Chiss Ascendancy; Csilla.

As the first ships began to materialize near Csilla, actions were taken to secure a path for what amounted to as the Empire’s battering ram. A pair of massive Autarch-class Battlecruisers specially outfitted with Despoiler Siege Cannons in lieu of the traditional orbital autocannons emerged from hyperspace, an escort force of various Sith-Imperial star destroyers, cruisers, and frigates.

They were to be the Emperor’s Hammer, delivering a crushing blow to the subterranean cities of Csilla. The Emperor himself would observe the progress of his forces from the bridge of the Behemoth, the mightiest warship in the entire armada and the Emperor’s personal flagship.

“Launch fighters, disable their orbital defenses. We are the wave that will wash these heretics back into the abyss, let nothing slow your advance.”

 

[Darth Prazutis]

There was no greater sin to the Sith Empire than to challenge the reign, the authority of its Emperor. In the space above Csilla a massive invasion fleet over two thousand strong emerged as one massive, unified force, one massive hive of dagger shaped warships. In the forefront of this fleet was the Goliath, a massive black hulled monstrosity over six miles in length. It was a mechanical nightmare brimming with hundreds, thousands of weaponry all over its great hull. The enemy had no idea just what they were about to unleash over the surface of Csilla.

Death.

The greatest butchers, the empire’s most sadistic psychopaths were brought to bear. The deepest, darkest pits were dredged of the most vile creatures and cosmic horrors ever created by the hands of the Sith were dragged screeching from the darkness and herded onto great planetary assault carriers by the millions, the tens of millions. Even the savage, barbaric, cannibalistic warrior species were gathered in innumerable hordes all of them whipped up into a blood frenzy with the promise of the destruction, the apocalypse to come. Every ship in the war fleet held the dark cloaked, silver tongued, mad members of the Carnifex Avulsuna. Their booming voices rocked through every wing in every ship proclaiming the doom to come, stirring up hatred and rage with every passionate speech. For the followers of House Zambrano the hatred ran deep it rolled through their very bones, it was smothering overwhelming even. It was a sick bile hitched in the back of their throats, an unmatched fury brewing deep within their minds. The very thought of the heresy laid before them, the very idea of someone challenging their lord and master as the Immortal Sith Emperor, the true Sith’ari of the dark side set them on fire with rage.

Wrath.

Darth Prazutis, Shadow Hand of the Sith Emperor, Supreme Commander of the Sith-Imperial Military he was the word, will, the hand and the wrath of Kaine Zambrano. For decades they worked endlessly, tirelessly climbing to the pinnacle of power building everything through many trials and tribulations. The very thought of someone challenging everything they had built burned like a blinding sun in his mind. The Jen’ari Empire, Csilla had all been marked for death. They would be made example of for the entire galaxy to see. He would darken the skies with vile taint, blacken the earth, he would make the skies rain tears of blood and the entire galaxy would weep at the wrath that would be unleashed. Until their enemy was destroyed for House Zambrano life was their enemy right down to the last atom, the last fledgeling molecule hiding beneath the ice desperately trying to avoid the beast of death that was coming for them. He was clad in armor from head to toe, a crimson cape trailing behind him and Daesumnor, the Blade of Hunger at his side.

Everything would be unleashed from hordes of the Jen’Lazea under High Warlord Malgrog to the infamously known Blackblade Guard. Most of all with [member="Varex"] came a massive, innumerable horde of demons from the great beyond, a formless, horde of madness, a seething mass of dark, sharp toothed spawn anywhere from the size of dogs to starships were mixed with the war fleet that massed. Their very presence would darken the skies with a black ichor, their will would consume everyone and everything. If their enemy wished to stand against them all life would die around them. Down from the skies would come the unholy voices of the priests proclaiming the arrival of Darth Carnifex, Immortal Sith Emperor, Undisputed Sith’ari of the Dark Side, God-King of the Epicanthix, the absolute and true Black-Iron God of War, Tyranny, Blood, and Pain, Breaker of Dynasties and Butcher of the Cosmos.

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

"I wonder if these sith, even know what they fight for."​

When he was needed most, Venthis was always there. For family, for blood.

Time and time, Venthis focused on his studies, his endeavours - though, once so often he would be called upon to fight for his Empire, his people. The Forgotten Wraith, stood draped in a red cloak, golden armour covering his chest and limbs. He was dressed for the occasion, as he would soon drain the blood of a million. All for the great hope of being appraised by his Emperor, his cousin.

It was far too long until Venthis had met with his Father, let alone his cousin. Panatha was somewhat close to Venthis' twisted and blackened heart. A lightsaber sat perched on Venthis' belt, a proud accomplishment of the Sith Knight's.

He had come prepared for a fight, though his reasoning for being here was far from that. He had wicked intentions, though that was no suprise to anyone who truly knew him. As few as that was.

His eyes lay upon Csilla, as glanced out from his ship cockpit, pensively watching for the first move. His hands clinched behind his back, interlocked. "Did you load the snake?" Venthis asked, to his second-in-command stood to his right, cautiously plotting the safest route in order to not enrage his master. Though quickly, piping up. "Of course, I did just as you asked." He spat out in a hasteful reply.

"Excellent, prepare to drop me and my pet on the surface."

 

[Ras'kala'han]

"Did you think that I would just lie down and die?" The bare-chested young man, eyes burning with uncanny fire eyed the alien prisoner with cold regard. It offered no response, its eyes twitching from left to right, full of fear, suspended upside-down above a silvery, engraved bowl. "Here, I'll tell you a secret -- I did. I'm me, but I'm not me. I'm... I'm someone else. I can't believe I was ever so completely lost, believing that after four thousand years, it would just be the same old me. The same old answers."

"...you don't understand. Don't worry, I don't expect you to. Death will make things clear. You'll know when you come back." At mention of this, the prisoner began to squirm and thrash, so Vesper seized it with a pale hand and cleanly cut its throat. Not waiting for its twitching to stop, its ink-black blood to slow in its flow, he began to mix his ingredients. Herbs from Korriban and Voss, synthesized drugs, gratings of precious metals and gemstones. A swing of the censer. A whisper. A gift of lightning, and a scrap of fiber from a mummy's wrappings, a song, soil from the Valley of the Sith and scrap iron from the Valley of the Jedi.

Regarding it for a moment with pride, Vesper then seized the bowl and quickly poured it into a silver chalice, smiling. The voices echoed in his mind. The rite was exactly as they described, just what was demanded of him. Perfection, nothing less, maybe even something more.

"Typhojem, on the eve of war I entreat your valediction. God of all who hate, God of king and traitor, lay on me your blessing. Let me be sullied by perversity, and put me beyond redemption. Let me be broken, that I may be reforged. Let me be as one with the nothingness that is the dark, that I may come into the fullness of being. Hail to thee. Hail to the Sith. Hail to the Dark."

Alone, in the empty prison hall, he christened his forehead and his heart with the mixture, and it burned against his skin. Looking at the leftover bubbling in the cup, he raised it in a toast. "To the end of the Galaxy. To the destruction of all life. And to the war that never ceases." He drank deep, and as it poured over his chin, dripped down his forehead, stained his lips the color of ink, he could not feel more satisfied. He could hear the colors at the edges of sound, complete in their resonance, and knew, for the first time in far too long, the simplicity of bliss.

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As the planet of Csilla loomed underneath him, Vesper smiled. He was dressed in pure, white robes, no weapons carried on him. He plucked a sheet of paper from a scroll casing, crumpled it into a ball, and chewed it for a bit before swallowing. The ink was bitter on his tongue, but the Vahla spell-scroll (a reward for a long-forgotten campaign of some sort or another) would lend power enough to contend with whatever foes he saw fit to.

Some might challenge these "Jen'Ari" for the heresy of contesting with the Emperor - that terrible God-King he had faced and turned away from shaking, a ghastly being of power unimaginable. Not Vesper. To say that war was a matter of loyalty, to say that a Sith needed reason to go to war, was already wrong-headed.

War was the Sith's way of being. Death and destruction, their raison d'etre.

Why join his brethren in their charge against the Jen'Ari? Hate. Hate was all the excuse he needed. Breathing in sharply, he smiled. He could sense it soon. The dance was starting.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

This plane of existence brought with it torment unending, exquisite agony that only fed his boundless rage. He was anathema to this place, touched by forces beyond the farthest stars. What was left of his physical shell, the Vaemath that had once been known as Varex, was locked away inside a stasis chamber of the Sith Prazutis' design. It was a cage of sorts, although in truth there was little the robust security measures could do to prevent his escape if he wished it. He was here for the benefit of others, the mortals his host surrounded himself with to run the ship called Goliath. They had discovered the hard way that over long term direct exposure caused radiation sickness as well as a stark increase in both psychotic episodes and suicidal behavior.

The Beast With a Thousand Maws had urged him to cooperate, and Varex was no more capable of resisting such a command than any native denizen of the Dreaming Dark. A great cathedral like chamber had been repurposed for use as his laboratory. The Darkside was thick there, and he had been provided as many living specimens as was needed in his grisly experiments. Fusing mortal flesh with energy native to the far realms defied possibility, it was like suturing together matter and antimatter. Few of his early subjects survived, those who did not lasting long in their wretched state. But over time, he had perfected the process. All that remained was a suitable large scale test environment, and the Sith had assured him that today was the day.

He knew nothing of the Jen'ari, who they were or what differentiated them from Prazutis' brotherhood. Although the man that had been Varex was once a fanatical Jedi crusader, the nightmare now wearing what remained of his shell cared nothing for this galaxy's petty religious squabbles. Once all other threats to the Empire had been dealt with, he had no doubt that his true masters' terrible gaze would fall on Zambrano next. The Sith strove for order, but order was an illusion. There was only decay, the inevitable heat death of the universe. To rage against the dying of the light was the true act of madness. Varex knew that [member="Darth Prazutis"] saw him as little more than a weapon, he idly wondered if his mortal custodian had begun to suspect that the Dark Jedi saw his people in precisely the same way. A means to his end.

In the final hours of preparation he had been granted special dispensation to roam freely so that he might join the others in witnessing the triumph of their black crusade at hand. Baseline crewmen reeled in disgust or agony at his coming, but a few hours in his presence would not do most of them any permanent harm. Sulfuric tendrils of ebon smoke heralded his arrival at the foot of the Shadow Hand's skull throne. His corrupted Vaemath DNA had been alchemically infused with the essence of a smoke monster demon, and so the twin infernos of his eyes which gave outline to a featureless face were the only obvious sign that he was still a living thing at all.

Once the gate begins to crumble, there will be no going back, supplicants writhed in convulsions as the fallen knight's projected thoughts wormed their way throughout the great hall, Is this your Emperor's decree?

 

[Talon Varrik]

Csilla, a world that Darth Cineris knew from a time that was left forgotten to him now. On board the flagship of @Darth Prazutis. Cineris also known as Talon Varrik. A shadowy figure that had only recently been through the ranks of the Sith Empire to rise as a Sith Lord with ambitions for power like any other Sith, for which it wouldn't have been the first time. Looking out the transparisteel window which overlooked the wormhole that was Hyperspace. His eyes fixed to the view as if pondering the last time Sith were forced to fight one another, memories flooded his mind of many similar instances yet the past to him always felt covered in a thick fog, bits and pieces came to him yet he couldn't figure out the complete puzzle. Not as if it mattered except what was in the present.

The Jen'Ari beings he did not know except they were Sith, but not true Sith. Sith pretenders who acted as if they were the true Sith, they were nothing more than common rabble. Yet conflict was always the way of the Sith. The dark side, the force's purpose was conflict in all his years. The Sith, the Jedi, he knew that the galaxy was built on it. That without conflict Empires and Civilizations fall into stagnations. It was coded into a being's DNA to fight and kill one another. With the Jen'Ari it would be no exception. Even the Sith Lord could view that, and as much as he leaned into the teachings of the dark side, he found himself enjoying brutality all the more.

This war against the pretenders would be short, as the Sith, Emperor Carnifex would dare not suffer any rivals nor a threat that would dare challenge the first and only Sith that would govern the universe. That only one vision would rule the galaxy, and that was his vision and his alone. Cineris found himself smirking as the Destroyer emerged from Hyperspace, and not a few moments later so did the rest of the fleet. Taking his time to stop gazing at the pages of Ancient Sith manifestos. He proceeded to put his armor on, his mask within his hands. His lightsabers clipped to his belt dangling as he proceeded down the hanger bay in a stride. Hoping to come across any Ally that he may come across.

Standing in the Hanger bay, he waited next to the shuttle. His plans in his mind, first and foremost aid the Empire of the Hand. An Imperial faction made up of the Chiss wishing to gain control of Csilla. Wishing to strengthen the relationship between the Chiss and the Empire, he had plans on aiding the Chiss by starting an Uprising on the planet, to have the people throw off the shackles of oppression and rise up. But a strange feeling crept up on him that there could be more than that, that the Force had more planned for the immediate destruction of the False Sith. He stood there waiting, for anyone to appear perhaps with the help of allies his plans might be able to go off without a hitch. For now, the time for a holy purge was at hand. His back next to the shuttle waiting patiently.


[member="Varex"]

 

[Corey's OOC]

This was a world she had heard about a few times. But the thing with Shan? She wasn’t really a fan of the cold, but what she was a fan of was getting her blades drawn and the Force thrown at her enemies. She had been within the New Jedi Order for too long, and now that [member="Taeli Raaf"] had freed so many from the confines of that group? She was not going to fall into another religion, though the Jedi and Sith were much more than that, Shan Ket was the type to now just claim her abilities and let the galaxy sort her out. But when the word came down from on high that the Sith Empire was going to be moving on the Jen’ari, and even if their next target was Csilla? She was still game.

Learning from some Jedi, and some Sith, to fight other SIth? That was a great approach to life.

It was more Sith, coming out of nowhere and setting up a new fight. She had found a way to transfer herself to the lead dreadnaught and she wanted to make sure she got herself onto the first wave. A few of the Sith knew who she was, and what she was capable of. Her combat gear was pretty light, alchemized leather, two shotos on either hip, and a scatter gun on her back. Her blonde hair was put up as she mad her way to the hangar. Being a non-Sith in a den of Sith made her something unique and different.

Something they didn’t care for here.

All she knew was she wanted to get down to the world, and maybe sow chaos in whatever way she could. Start up a revolution? Set everyone on fire? She noticed the Sith waiting on the shuttle. “Sith, this going to the planet? Where?” She didn’t speak with the soft-spoken voice she mustered on some worlds, she was speaking with a focus, and a desire to get down to the planet. “Need another hand on board?”


[member="Varex"]
[member="Talon Varrik"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

A frozen tundra was lain before the hooded figure. In her hand she held the hilt of a Lightsaber and in the other the dark side of the Force. It was cold as it normally was on Csilla. But the Sith who stood out in the open did not feel it. She was aware that it was there. Her skin as pale as the snow beneath her boots screamed in agony. Her body ached and longed for the warmth of the Initium. But she did not move. Her limbs, body and head did not shake from the quiet agonizing assault made upon her by the frozen tundra. No... A Sith Lord welcomed pain. Allied themselves with it. Did not shy away from it. Others cowered, ran and did all that they could to elevate that one agonizing sensation. But not her. She embraced it, carried it and held it. With it came a sense of clarity. A cleansing of the mind and soul.

Before the eve of another battle.

As Darth Ayra stared up at the skies of Csilla, mind emptied and cleansed from all thoughts of aridity, she could feel the dark side itself converging on this world. Thousands of lives lain into the dirt in it's name. Followers of the dark side, and those who made it their property pitting themselves against each other in the name of... What? What were they fighting for? Who were they fighting for? What was the point of this?

These questions did not serve to create doubt in her mind. Instead they only added to the clarity of the moment. That these men, and these women, who called themselves Sith, were about to lay down their lives in the names of ideals, philosophy and whatever nonsense they had come up with to justify this waste of time. Challenges had been made, that were each met, but in all of the wrong ways. Clever men pretending that that they were more cunning and stronger than the others. Deceptions made in the self and in their subjects to justify this pointlessness. This epic waste of time, blood and tears.

But a Dark Lord of the Sith is not forged out of ideals, philosophy or even cunning. They have never elevated themselves through the contest of imagination or intelligence but instead through the blood soaked annuals of battle. Another chapter added to the epic failure of the Sith. Weakening themselves before entering battle with the real enemy. Deceived into thinking that one or the other was the true enemy as the followers of the light thought themselves protected in their cradle of power.

Immersing herself into this epic waste to soak herself in their blood Darth Ayra would stand there to feel this moment. To allow the death to wash over her; and there would be a day to look upon this one drunk on the memory of it's perfection. Perfect for it's waste of time, and it's death, and it's despot leaders, and it's pointlessness. Perfect to begin the beginning of the end so that in the end the Sith could be remade again in a perfected image so that this would not happen again.

SNAP HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A crimson light burned itself into the air to announce it's master to the call of battle. A blood curdling scream escaped the visage of Darth Ayra into the skies of Csilla to welcome death. Today this frozen tundra will be transformed.

 

[Kaine O'Doran]

Society was strange. Technology was strange. Spaceships were strange. Anything that resembled a modern, technologically advanced civilization was strange and other-worldly to any foreign outsider. An outsider who had come from a 'primitive world' as others had called it. An outsider who had come from a 'backwater cesspool of degenerate wolves' as another called it. Everything around that this outsider saw, was alien to him, he had never seen such things before, felt such things before, and heard of such strange mechanical noises before. Kaine was an outsider, there was no doubt about it. Everything from his poor education, to his ignorance of anything that existed outside of his 'home' of Qiilura spoke to that truth.

The young Gurlanin male found this 'spaceship' that he was on as strange and otherworldly. The only ships he had been on beforehand were some simple transport freighters which he had boarded to flee from Qiilura after being tried as a murderer from the elders of his clan. Murderer, O'doran still scoffed at that conclusion that those delusional and idiotic elders had come to fruition about. They wouldn't know what a murderer was if it killed them, all they cared about was their perceived public image of authoritative power to guide the gurlanin clan as they had sought fit. They didn't care that Kaine had found his brother dead, they didn't care that Kaine had gone after his brother's murderer and killed him in righteous blood. They cared naught for any of that. All the elders knew was that Kaine had found his brother dead and had killed someone. From their point of view, the elders believed that Kaine, or Ka'ynei as he had been known then, had killed his own brother out of jealousy and then subsequently killed another gurlanin who knew information about his brother's death. The perfect conspiracy, the perfect idiotic combination of foolish and demented thoughts of blind gurlanins who had become blind in old age and weak bodies which no longer supported them. What better way to feel like powerful hunters like they had been in their youth than banish the son of Tao'uik, the 'mountain wolf' as he had become to be called?

Kaine's orange predatory eyes narrowed inwards as his gaze focused onto a nearby transport shuttle, it was a way off of this constricting and suffocating metal tomb of a space-worthy vessel and onto the ground below. Good, finally I can get out of this ironclad grave and get to killing and hunting. Kaine took slow steps towards the shuttle, his eyes shifting from [member="Shan Ket"] and then to [member="Talon Varrik "]as he made his way over, his mind was in a mess of thoughts and squabble about what to do when on the planet. He had never been in a battle zone, he didn't know what would happen in it, or even what it was in truth. All he knew was that the 'Sith Empire' who he had aligned himself with out of a pure unadulterated need for vengeance was going to fight someone, O'doran knew this would be a useful scenario for him to become a much better fighter. It could even help him meet some fellow allies in the Sith Empire as well, something he would need if he would ever want to become stronger and rise above the scrutiny and shaming of the elders of the gurlanin clan he had come from. Once he got close to the shuttle, he spoke to the man who was standing beside the shuttle.

"Plan...you have, yes?"​

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Kaine wasn't the best at speaking, the only words he knew were the most rudimentary and most commonly used words to try and formulate complete thoughts. Though even then, he struggled to speak coherent and full thoughts aloud in the spoken language of 'galactic basic' that the majority of the Galaxy used.

 

[Koda Fett]

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LOCATION: THE BEHEMOTH
OBJECTIVE: DESTROY
ALLIES: THE SITH - TSE
ADVERSARIES: THE 'SITH' - TJE

​War: Inevitable. Inescapable. Unending. It stretched outwards throughout the stars, and it's vice-like grip ensnared the systems that were unfortunate enough to find themselves in the disastrous path of a war-mongering society, race, or in such a similar vain. The Sith Empire may not have been exactly that, but instead provoked. The Jen'Ari Empire had fatally called attention to their feeble territory before their time had come, and it now seemed certain their eradication's course had already been set. Futile. They may writhe in resistance, but the proverbial boot of Darth Carnifex's Empire had been determined to stomp out any heretical remnants that merely refused to accept their unavoidable demise.

The Bounty Hunter did not entirely care for their reasoning presented, or the frivolous justification. He might've accepted nothing more than a murderous bloodlust. The Sith, to Fett, were often nothing more than barbaric cultists that rallied themselves behind a banner that refused to lay dormant for too long, and never let their hateful glow become extinguished; eternal in their passion. It certainly begged the question as to whether the Jen'Ari had been the same. He was inclined to believe as such, truly. They had been too similar to an outsider, and this bout closer resembled the annihilation of competition. It might not of been true, but it didn't matter. Credits, however, did. And there were a lot of them.

Meanwhile, throughout the briefest of reflections the Mandalorian leaned forwards and allowed his armoured forearms-- shielded by evidently heavily-worn, red gauntlets --to press against the guard-rail. He flexed his hands several times in idle motion, allowing his finger-tips to reach his palms as his callous eyes stared through his T-Visor and towards the worn crushgaunts that shielded his hands, and amplified his strength. His Carbine remained by his person, caught in it's sling and dangling off of his right shoulder. It seemed scratched and scuffed, undeniably stained despite his efforts to ensure it's cleanliness. Fett ought to of found a replacement that was sure to be more reliable, but the only real attachments he seemed to possess were in relation to the weapons and armour he possessed.

They arrived before Csilla, and he merely shifted his gaze to perceive the frozen-ball. He internally huffed. He remembered several horrific events that flashed beneath his eyes, imprinting themselves across his mind, and abandoned him after a momentary batting of those eyes. He loathed the snow-dwelling creatures, and the Jen'Ari were sure to be no different.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Objective: Maim. Burn. Destroy.
Location: Csilla, in orbit
Allies: TSE - [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Erin Tenel"]
Enemies: TJE
Equipment: In signature

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"The Jen'ari Empire is a blight, a stain on the history of the Sith. Their kind cannot be allowed to flourish- they must be destroyed completely and utterly. Take no prisoners, tear down every last monument of their existence. Go forth and reave, so you may return to Bastion with glory!"

No matter from where or how they would arrive on the planet of Csilla, all the Sith warriors that came to fight in the name of the Sith Empire would receive the message sent out by Darth Avacyn, the Triumvir of strength. Today would be a bloody one and that was exactly how it was supposed to be. Sith against Sith, for only one collective could truly carry that name. In Avacyn's eyes, and no doubt many who stood on the same side, the only true manner of showing they were superior was to utterly annihilate those who opposed them. War was the only way to cleanse the name of Sith.

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"Zo dvasia maskuoti nu sekleti aveti."

As the vessel that contained the Sith Lady drifted in orbit of Csilla, she gathered the Force around her and uttered an incantation in the Sith language. The words of power wrapped around her, causing her appearance to change. Her skin turned a ghostly pale, her hair became spectral and her eyes started glowing in a luminescent red color. It was a powerful and well-practiced illusion, one that only her enemies would see. To them, she was a spirit, but to her allies she was still human.

The woman then turned towards Er'in, one of the Sith who accompanied her on the shuttle. After their chance meeting she had sought to bring her into the numbers of the Sith Empire and now they would be fighting on the same battlefield, much like how they had fought side by side when they had met. "I fought in the wars I did because it was a simple necessity. But this war is different." Why Avacyn felt this way, she did not know. Perhaps it was the fact she now wore the mantle of Triumvir of Strength, perhaps it was the enemy they fought. "They are an insult to the Sith and I will not stand for it. Their demise will be my satisfaction." This time, it was much more personal.

"Can you feel it? The encroaching Darkness, eager to feed on the death and destruction that we will bring?"

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Location: Daena-class Assault Carrier, Sith-Imperial Armada attacking Csilla.
Objective: Prepare for Battle.
Equipment:

Spoiler

Imperator’s Raiment, Zaudraka, Spear, SIF-7 Minos,

I̿̑̑̉̎ ̿́dͦͪ͌ͥ̇͐̚ö́̍̐͂ͪ͆̾̎ ͧn̈̔̾ͣo̾ͩͣ̒̓t́̀̅ ̂͋ͦ͑l̐ͪ͆iͨ̈͛k̆̊ͦ̈e̔̽ͤ̒͊ͪ̔ ̃̔î̉ͨ͌ͧ͊̋̚t̾͒ͫ̓̈,̋͋̾̚ ͣ͆̈́Vͣ͌o̅rͬn̎ͤ̇͑̈̚s̚kͯ̎͆ͫ̽͗ͣ͛r͋̆̈.ͭ̈́ͫ̔̿ ̊̈́̅

T͊̾̑̽̍h̓ͫ̑͗̎e̔͌̏ͭ͌sͦe̓̆̂͊̎ͫ ̊͑ͦͬͪaͪ̾͋͋ͭ̐̿r̂ͬͣ̎͆e̋ͩ̋̂ ̍͋̌̇͆ͤn̈̇ͧͪ͊̍͆o̎̓̀ͧ͒ͥ̆ͭͬtͭ̋ͣ̏̇͌̆ͮ̂ ̐m̽ͤy̑̀͛ͧͤ ̋͒͛̊ͬ̉p̃̊͂ͭ̄rͤ̑ͧͪͩẽ̅̆ẙ̔ͧͪ͋;́ͫ ͐ͮt̿ͦͬͩ̈́̐̓h͆ͬ͛͋̓͒͌̆̾eͣ̂͌̽ŷ͌ͯ̏̏̽ͣ̇ ̑͋ͪ̔̽͊ͥā́̑ͥ̑̓ͫrͮ̋̍̉̊ͤͯ̅ͣe̓͛ ̔ͦ́ͦn͛̂̑͆͆o͋͗ͧ͆͒̄tͩ͐̋͋ ͫͬ̊̒̋͑͐̎Jͬ̀͛̅̍̈ͫ̄eͦͯd̾̚i̊̒́ͬ.̇̄ͬ ͦ̈̈́̐̽ͯ
͌ͣͪ̉̏ͮ̄̚
͗̾̆ͫ͌̓ͨSͥͮ͌ͤ̃̒q̍̿̍̎̒uͥ͛̃ä́̍̌̎̃͗ḃͪ͒̒bͪ̄̈̆l͒ͦ͂ͫ̒͊͌ȇ̀ͨͦ͊͒͐ͬ̀s̈͂ ̐ͤbͥe͂̎̌̓ͮͦ͐̎t̀ͥͬ͌ͪw̔ͤ̆ͨͣ̓̓̿e̽ͤͭȇ͗n̔̉ͦ̑ ͭͣ̓͂͂dͨ͂ͪ̍̌͌a͑̂̌r͒ͩ̓͒͑̌͊ͬͩk̋̊͒̂ͣ͗͌͂ ̂ͬ͑l͋ͬ͌͆ͩ̐̄ͤo͗̈́̊rͩ͐̈̄ͬd̀͊sͣ̆ͮͥ ͤ̄iͮ̒ͭs̈́̓͋̉̏͂ ̽͊̽̅͑l͛͌̑̑iͦ͛̃ͩtͣ̌ͤͭ̍t̎̈́̓̉̌̍ͭlͭ͋͗ͧ̌͆ͮeͣ͛ͦ͋ ̅̇̈͐͒̅c̒ͩ̋͂̓ͧŏ̄̄̈͐͐͆n͒̓̌ͦͫ͒̒ͤͮc͒e̍ͫ̏̄̋rͣ̚n̄̅ͪ͒̂ ̈ͤ̂ͯt̋ͬͩ̉͑ͩo͒̈ͯ̚ ̉ͫͧZ̎̈ͦ͂̃ͧ̋̔á̽̅̉u͋͊̽ͭͪ̀ͮd͗͆͋͑rͮ̓͑̚aͨ͆̎̔kͩͣ̿ͯâͩ͐͐̐
͗̆̀ͧ͐ͫ̍͗͑
The fire that crested the enchanted blade curled in displeasure at the idea of being entangled in fights within the dark when it should be wielded against its one true enemy. It hungered for battle against the light, and the sweet taste of a Jedi’s blood on its darkened blade. Its wielder had been generous in her supply of such flavours, but now she was asking it to drink dark blood.

Joycelyn Zambrano was known to some as Darth Vornskr the Second, -Named thusly by the sacred traditions laid down by the Wyyrlocks in the original One Sith, in the second coming of which her father himself had been Darth Vornskr before he was the Sith Emperor of today: [member=”Darth Carnifex”]. Now she carried his old mantle.- Zaudraka had taken to call her by her Sith Moniker, which she took to be a sign of respect. Now she had to sway its iron will.

“The Jedi have allies whose collective power may rival our own, and these heretics fracture the dark side of the Force.” She licked her lip. “For victory to be assured, and for the vision of Vahl to be realised, the Sith must be one, united body, and strike with one fist.”

Her fist curled, making the skin stretch taught against the knuckles and show the white beneath. While she spoke, servants had lit sacred herbs and spread the scent throughout the room, while her handmaiden warmed the unguents of battle between her hands and spread them over Joycelyn’s vast back.


Ó̃̒u̐ͧ͗̓̔r͑ͫ̂͛̏ͧ ͆͛ͤͩ̓̿ͦm̋͗ͯ͋͑̋̚oͤͨ̉ͣ̄s͐̍͂ͬ̌̈̑̏ṫͤ̉̽̓ͯͫ̆ ͛͌͛s͗ͮaͮ̓͒ͪ͋c̊̊̓̀̈́̈̍̚rͥ̂ͯ̾e͌ͧd̈́͒ ̉ͣ̄͒ͪͦ͂̽ͫcͭ͒̊̌͆̄͐a͋̊ͫ͗ͬͭ͆ͯ̂u̽̿͌̓ͨsͨ́ȇͦ̐͗̉̆ ̒̈͌̂ͭ͗m͊̐ͨ͗̓̐̆uͬ͐̆̂̈̀̚̚s̆̋͑t̂̂̑̿͐̍ ͊̉ͤ̉̆̂͂͂̆bͫͧ̔ͮ̒̊͐̑e̓ͯ̈̌̒̚ ͋̈u͑́̐pͨ̉hͪͦ̆͆̚eͥ̋ͥ̋ͨ̔l͗ͥ̐̃̅d̄̏̚.̓̒́̇̾͛͛̅͂
̔
ͬ̑W͂ͬͦ̓̍h̏̾ͯ͒́eͭ͒̑̎̄nͯ͐ ̃t̐̿͒̄̌̆h̾͋̌ͬ͗͂eͭͤ̊̓̏̊̒̈ ̈́̐ͦJ͋̃̍̂̀ͤe͌̀́͋͗͆dͧͬ̎̿ȋ̉̅͊ͣ ̓ͫ̐̒́aͬͮ̋ͮ͛̊ͩrͬ̇eͦͤͣ̋ ͦ͗̅dͬ͆͑̾̚e̓̓̎̎ã̉ͥ͌ͫ̉̍d̋ͪ͑ͦ͗̓̏̐̂ ̇͋ͧ̍̈ͣa̽ͣ̿̋n̊͑ͬ̓̏dͫ͛ ̚tͬͧ̆ͤĥ͌̀͆ͪ̑̏ëi͆̓͐̐rͣ̒͛͛̃ͦ͐ͭ ͣ̆̾t̓ͣͧ̓ͩe̒͌m͐ͤpͥͩ͑l͐̐ͪ͂ͤ̒ͪͮe̋̃̊͊̿̚sͨͭͣ̎͑̄̈ͬ ͮ̋͒̿͗̓sͯ̅e̓̀͊t́͂͌́ ́̈͂̈ȃ̓̀b̎ͮ̆l̇͛ͩ͑͂ä̂̾̒͆̿̽̐zͬ̿̀ͬ̓̍̒͌ė,ͨͧͪͥ
̓̏̀̂ͫͤ͑
ͤͨ̆̌́͑͊O͛̑̈́n̏̾lͤͬy̆ͧ͊̌̑ͫ̓ ̌̄̉͌̋t̒́ͩ̔̏ȟ̓̒̓ͩ̿ͧ̇e̾͗̂ͥ̀͊͌nͭ̆͋͗͛̄̐̐ ̇̈́̐̐̐̿s̋̉ͧ̽h̔̃̎aͬ̾̐ͬ̈́ͨ͗̃l̈͌̌̒ͬͮͭ̓l̒̊̑ͩͭ̑ͭ̑̚ ̈́̇̉͑ͯͣ͊̀tͧͤ͐ͫ̌ͩhͮͥ̅̈́̐e̒ͦ ͫ̈̽e͑̄̅͑m̋ͪͫ̈́̏b̐e̓ͣ͑̆ͣͥ̽̓̎r͒͐ͤͬ́̾ͬ̂s̊͒͆̚̚ ̒̓́͗̆sͬ̅͂ͥ̿̃ͫhͭ̆ͬͯ̄oͤͩͯ͋̋wͦ̏ ͌͗̐ͭ͑t̍ͪ̍ĥ̓̈́͑ͭ̀eͪ̌͐ͧͤ̍ ̋̎ͨ̉wͮ̓͒ͥ̐ͨ͛̚a̐̄̊̊̓ͥͩ̔yͧͧ̅̆ͭͦ̚ ̔̒ͬ͒̎͐ͪtͭ̄ͬ̀̽ͩ̉̎̚oͨ̓̓͗́͊ ̐ͮ͐͊H͊ͤO͌̽͂͗̋̓̌̚M̅̔̒ͪ̍͆̄E͗.̑͗ͣ͐ͮ͂̃͑

The prophecy had stood for ages. The Chosen had sought ceaselessly for ways to find the path back to the lost home-planet of the vahla. Zaudraka, forged from a vahla’s soul, knew as much as any how important it was that their people find the way back to their ancestral home.

“Our ancestral duty demands we clean house to ensure that the prophecy unfolds as it is foretold.” Joycelyn leaned her head back to allow the warrior’s braid to crown her. “We cannot afford to be careless.”

Zaudraka’s fire shrunk and smouldered, the yellows becoming deeper orange and red before the centre flashed in bright white. It had agreed to be carried into the battle of Csilla, and not a moment too soon. War was already on its way. She lifted her gaze from the fading fire, shrinking back into Zaudraka’s black edge, and looked up at the silver staff and dark armour.

“Mother Vahl, mother of fire, give me your wrath.”

She stood to receive the armourweave and blackened plates of the Imperator’s Raiment; an armour inherited and altered, like her title, to suit her needs and cement her position as an heir to the Empire. Zaudraka was sheathed and strapped to her side, a symbol of status and a bond to her vow to the Goddess that she would destroy the Jedi on behalf of Vahl.

An armourweave cape was draped over her shoulders in the end, fastened magnetically, bearing the sigil she had claimed for herself: The Eye of Solomon and the Fire of Vahl, cresting a sword. She bowed before the smaller handmaiden, a priestess of the Ember, to receive a blessing from Vahl.

In the bowels of her ship, the Daena, there was a legion of the Sith Empire and considerable force of spacecrafts, but perhaps most vicious of all were the dropships marked with the jagged, black grin: The Beast Squadrons. Shock troops, tested on Coruscant and Alderaan.

Joycelyn Zambrano was ready for war.

A war beyond mere mortal means.

 

[Ghost369]

LOCATION: THE SPACE OVER CSILLA

OBJECTIVE: KILL JEN'ARI AND EXECUTE TRAITORS

ALLIES: TSE

ENEMIES: TJE

Darth Cinis sat in the hangar bay of one the many Star Destroyers. He and his men were waiting to exit hyperspace over Csilla and launch the attack. All Cinis could think about was beautiful war and death. The execution of heretical traitors. Even some of his own troops and friends had joined the Jen'Ari Empire. He looked forward to sending them screaming to the void.

Suddenly real space slipped back into view and there was the Chiss homeworld. The hour of vengeance had come.

Just as the Sith Emperor, Darth Carnifex gave the word Cinis and at least twenty of his soldiers took off in their fighters. They made their way to Csilla's orbital defenses. Plasma blasts flew in all directions as enemy Chiss and Jen'Ari fighter craft came to intercept.

Three blaster bolts came at Cinis' fighter. The first shot missed, while he maneuvered away from the other two and then fired back. As he chased an enemy fighter his first shot also missed, but the second one hit home. Destroying the fighter. The Knight circled around and shot two more bolts, blasting two more Jen'Ari out of the sky.

 

[Shade of Decay]

Location: Aboard a Velox-class Fast Frigate, in orbit
Allies: TSE; [member="Azriel Mortii"] [member="Lark"]
Enemies: TJE
Equipment: In bio

"Lord, we are near the terminus point," the captain of the frigate told Tsisaar. The Sith turned from his contemplation of the abyss of hyperspace, glancing back at the man and nodding. "Very good, captain," he replied. In truth, he didn't have any real power aboard the ship, and the captain knew it as well. However, owing to Tsisaar's status as not only a knight of the Sith, but one of the inquisitors of the Saaraishash, he'd found himself coexisting in the captain in an odd sort of way. Even those in the Emperor's own fleet can be afraid, he mused to himself.

What was there to be afraid of, though? Tsisaar himself would surely be reprimanded if he were to try and exert power over the ship, especially considering that he had no real experience running a naval vessel. Nor had he noticed any hint of mutinous or treasonous activity from the captain. But, even being in Darth Carnifex's own fleet, the man was fairly low on the totem pole, only running a frigate; no prestige for a star destroyer. Selected because he was loyal and effective, but perhaps not so important as to feel himself untouchable, even from the average Sith.

Of course, the man still couldn't protect himself from the Force. And even if it would be a suicidal effort of Tsisaar, or any other Sith, to try and commandeer the vessel, it may just be that the man was being respectful and seemingly-deferential simply to keep himself safe. Amusing, but wise. Tsisaar had often done the same.

The empty blue field of hyperspace coalesced back into the real just outside the viewport, and Tsisaar got his first true look at Csilla. To think that he had thought of Arkania as a frigid ball of ice...Csilla made it look positively paradisical in comparison. Not that it would soon matter. So far as Tsisaar was confirmed, once the battle was finished, Csilla truly would be nothing more than a frigid, empty world.

“Launch fighters, disable their orbital defenses. We are the wave that will wash these heretics back into the abyss, let nothing slow your advance.”

Tsisaar heard the orders and smiled underneath his huleppi. Even with his more scholarly bent, the thrill of battle called to him the same as it did to any Sith. "I wish you luck in the coming battle, captain," he told the man, giving a respectful nod. "The acolytes and I shall be getting in a shuttle and descending to the surface now. Hopefully we can rejoin you once all is done." Then he turned, making his way to the turbolift at the back of the bridge.

He pulled a communicator from his pocket, keying into the frequency that was shared between himself, [member="Azriel Mortii"], and [member="Lark"]. "We're leaving for the surface," he told the pair. "Meet me in the shuttle hangar near the bridge as quickly as possible, and prepare yourselves for battle." As he stopped speaking, the lift slowed to a stop, and he exited into the hangar; a short walk later and he was in his personal shuttle, having it activated and ready for takeoff. Waiting only on the pair of apprentices.

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Objective: Power.
Location: Csilla, in orbit
Allies: TSE - [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]
Enemies: TJE
Equipment: Black Lotus (Lightsaber), Erin's Robes, Sith Amulet, Shadowclasp

​

(music)​

​

“Everything of significance is the result of conquest.”​

​

The words of Darth Sideous, perhaps the greatest of those who claimed the title of Emperor rang through her head as Er'in stared in silent contemplation - perhaps even a touch of awe - at the fleet the Butcher King had brought to bear against the 'heretics'. She had never before seen such might assembled purely for the purpose of conquest - such a display of temporal power.

Yet still, for all it's majesty and terror, it was insignificant compared to the Force.

The young Hapan turned, looking to Darth Avacyn as she was addressed.

"Yes."

To add anything else was pointless.

All around her she could feel the rising tide of darkness: the shrieking hatred and insane faith of the God-Kings followers, the answering darkness rising from the planet itself as the Sith below - and they were Sith - brought their wills to bear. She felt the roiling hunger of the Dark Side so deep in her soul that it seemed the furnace of hatred might overwhelm her will, turn her into a raging berserker.

But why? To what end did these technological terrors, bound demons of hate, warriors of the Sith and tens of thousands of fanatical soliders serve?

Her gaze caught the immense bulk of the Behemoth as the shuttle banked and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the black nova of all encompassing wroth that lurked on its bridge.

Conflict. She realised, is an end unto itself. A war so grand as to draw power, to grind away the chaff, to destroy the weak. To expose the very essence of what the Force was. She had been mistaken in her arrogance, the Emperor did understand the cycle and sought to wield it as a tool. All of this, a tool to forge eternal struggle.

That made her smile. It might never be her way, and she doubted any who followed blindly would be more than meat for the machine - sacrifices to the cycle. But she did not think she was in such company.

She turned away from the viewport fully, graceful steps taking her to the correct position. The smile still on her face, passionate and cruel.

"Yes, I feel it and I am enlightened by it. Thank you for bringing me here."

Whatever happened here, whomever won, the Dark Side would be ascendant and with it, so would Er'in Tenel.

 

[Lark]

Location: In orbit above Csilla
Allies: TSE, [member="Tsisaar Taral"] [member="Azriel Mortii"]
Enemies:TJE
Equipment: Enchanted Sith sword and dagger


Lark sat alone, awaiting his first assignment since his re-admittance to The Sith Empire. Not soon after it was confirmed that Lark did not pose any threat to the Empire and had left on a personal mission, he discovered that he'd be thrown right into the fire, so to speak. He had heard whispers from his comrades, musings of heretical Sith that threatened the Empire. A song that Lark had heard before, but in truth it mattered not who he fought. More than anything, he viewed the coming conflict as a chance at redemption. To prove to the Empire that they were wise to admit him into their ranks once more.

But he couldn't help but smile at his assignment. While away from the Empire Lark had been involved in a few scraps, but nothing compared to the war-zone he was preparing to enter. But he had survived bouts such as this before, he was sure his instincts would return to him soon enough.

He received a message from the same man who recruited him back into the Empire. Tsisaar Taral had been remarkably cordial during their confrontation, and although Lark had been hesitant to trust the Saaraishash, his words had rung true. Tsisaar said it was nearly time for the battle to begin, so Lark calmly rose and walked towards the hanger, enchanted blades at his side. He couldn't help but admire the beauty of Csilla, a conglomerate of white and blue.

Lark finally entered the hanger and spotted Tsisaar, and walked towards him. An aura of aloofness surrounded Lark, which wasn't uncommon. But he was determined to show his worth. Even though he had been deemed trustworthy, there would be a constant eye on him for the foreseeable future.

Some Sith felt rage towards these heretical Sith, the Jen'ari. Lark didn't feel that way. He viewed them as nothing more than a stepping stone on his path towards power. They wouldn't die for their beliefs, or whatever it was that they had done to the Empire.

They'd die because they were in Lark's way.

 

[Gida Freetaa]

Csilla High Orbit
Post : 1
Allies : The Jen'ari Empire
Enemies : The Sith Empire
Objective : Respond to invasion alarms

Jena'tes Sector Task Force (30,000m)
FLAGSHIP "Indominable" Leviathan Class Star Destroyer
"Conqueror" Leviathan Class Star Destroyer
"Nemesis" Leviathan Class Star Destroyer
"Predator" Leviathan Class Star Destroyer
"Eviscerator" Leviathan Class Star Destroyer
"Punisher" Daedra Class Star Destroyer
"Stormhawk" Daedra Class Star Destroyer
"Intervention" Reaper Class Cruiser
"Templar" Reaper Class Cruiser
"Phoenix" Reaper Class Cruiser
"Fury" Reaper Class Cruiser
"Cossack" Reaper Class Cruiser
"Carnage" Reaper Class Cruiser

​

Fleet Admiral Freedaa, was in a sour mood, she had ships chasing ghosts, there was all sorts of ship movements popping up in the past weeks, originally she has assumed they they were pirates and thus sent her small ships to respond to them. Now Gida was karked when the invasion alarms was sounded, Csilla was under attack, she had no corvettes, no frigates, just her Star Destroyers and about a third of her Cruisers withing striking distance, it was going to be a massive drekkshow, trying to pull a victory out of this, getting caught flatfooted like this was a death sentence, the exact strategy that she had used half a hundred times when she served a different Emperor as part of the 17th Imperial Rapid Response Fleet.

Coming out of hyperspace over the North Pole the fleet established and and started hooking the local defences into a tactical network, and counted her blessings the fleet wasn't overwhelmingly sized yet, initial scans showed them to be of similar tonnage actually. Though a second look gave the Fleet Admiral something to chew on, where were the force damned troop ships? They couldn't take the planet with just the marine compliment, though those battle cruisers could probably put enough down to establish a foothold for a main force to reinforce them.

"Ensign! Open me up a comms channel, open broadcast, I want every ship in that bloody karking fleet to hear me." Gida shouted in the direction of her communications officer.

"Line open Ma'am." A reply quickly came.

Gida stepped into view of the holorecorder and spoke up. "Attention unidentified fleet! This is Fleet Admiral Gida Freetaa of the Jen'ari Empire." She had a damn good idea of who they were, but technically they didn't have 100% positive ID on them yet she had to use unidentified. "This is your first, only, and final warning, deactivate your weapons, shields, and engines, prepare to receive boarders, any further advancement will be seen as a hostile action and we will open fire."

She backed out of view and let the channel go dead, she grinned watching the local defence forces started to show up on the tac-net, this was going to be fun, though that pit in her gut just wouldn't go away, where were those damn troop carriers? If the transports weren't here then they were part of a second wave, and that meant that there was another wave. She doubted that they were going to show all of their hand at once, and unlike the saying, what you don't know is exactly what hurts you.

Gida barked at her comms officer again. "Ensign, send out a priority one communique, call in the rest of the sector fleet, every single ship that can be scraped up, get them staged up and ready to jump in."

She doubted that they would be her on time for the battle, but they might be able to make a counter attack, cover a retreat, or press an advantage and send these attackers fleeing with their tails tucked between their legs.

 

[Darth Hashira]

Objective: ???
Allies: TSE
Enemies: TJE

''Ironic.'' Hashira stood next to [member="Darth Carnifex"] as the two gazed out across the massive fleet. The impending invasion required close work between the two, seeing as how Hashira was a traitor to The Jen'Ari cause and knew their locations and procedures quite well. His information was invaluable. He placed his hand on the top of his lightsaber as he finished his thoughts.

''Back to judge those who judged me.'' he stood in silence allowing Carnifex to comment if needed. He had found a great fondness for Carnifex, an affection most likely routed in the salvation and protection offered to him in exchange for his loyalty. A small price to pay, as far as Hashira was concerned. His armor clanked and clattered as he shifted his weight from one side to the other, unusually giddy with bloodlust. He looked out through the viewports and down onto the world. He wondered if Animus was there, or perhaps even Vyrassu. He had an unusual connection to anyone connected with the Jen'Ari during his tenure. Their presence was recognizable to him, but so was his presence to them. Finally, unable or unwilling to bear the excitement of battle any longer, Hashira turned to Carnifex.

''Tell me, what is thy bidding?''

 

[Darth Vyrassu]

Location: Unknown

Enemies: TSE

Just as Vyrassu predicted, [member="Darth Carnifex"] Empire invaded Csilla. The Dark Council quickly rallied all Imperial military forces on the planet. Planetary shields and cannons were set up. The fleet gathered in mass over Csilla. Hundreds of Star Destroyers, carriers, frigates and so much more, as well as thousands of Sith Starfighters begin leaving hangars and getting ready for war. The Treaty of the Chiss with the Chiss Ascendancy was just signed marking TSE as an enemy of the CA begun rallying their forces ready for this long overdue fight.

During all these preparations, each holoprojector the Empire had lit up with a hologram of the Jen'ari Emperor Darth Vyrassu. His face partly hidden from the shadow of his hood but his Sith species face tentacles clearly visible. The hologram was chest up showing his Dark Lord armor that was pure black with Shoulder pauldrons. He begin to speak in a deep raspy type voice that was heavy and carried an echo.

Citizens of The Jen'ari Empire, soldiers, pilots, Sith, all those that aid us to rid the galaxy of this pathetic Empire. It has come time as I have foreseen it. The Empire under Darth Carnifex has officially brought their plague to our territory. We have made an alliance with the Chiss, we will honor our treaty and help defend the space we control now known as Chiss space, so much as the planet that will be our battleground, Csilla. Carnifex's Empire thought they were intelligent casting this war upon us. We will show them that this was indeed a mistake, we will stand and fight, we will eradicate them. We will not back down nor go away. I have complete faith in all of you. May you feed of your anger, your hatred fill you and make you powerful. FOR THE EMPIRE!!!!

The hologram fades away as TSE comes out of hyperspace, The TJE Star Fighters by the thousands immediately begun attacking all TSE's ships. Vyrassu's force signature could be felt on every single TJE ship excluding star fighters, as well on Csilla, a feeling that might seem confusing on where Vyrassu actually is. Only the TJE Dark Council knew of Vyrassu's true location, was it here in the battle somewhere? Or possibly elsewhere? Something TSE would have to work to find the answer to. But it was clear on one thing. Vyrassu knew EXACTLY where Carnifex was and before this battles end, Carnifex would face Vyrassu 1 on 1, and everything around that fight would surely be destroyed, two powerful Sith of such magnitude was sure to see major destruction. But first, Vyrassu wanted to hold back and let the battle rage on for some time before allowing the enemy to know of his location.

​

 

[Eli-Mae Forrest]

Post:1
Location: Indominable Csilla orbit

As soon as the sirens began Nicole sprung to her feet, she didn't know if this was a drill or not but to her it didnt matter, ever since she had been named Lieutenant and Squad leader she had made it a point to lead by example, not only by ordering her squad around but also by action. She jumped out of her bunk, her blonde hair staying fixed in place, within 30 seconds of the alarms starting she was out of her night clothes and in her flight suit her boots with her helmet under her arm. She took off down the corridor, along the way she noticed most of the men stationed here were still in their rooms, however she caught sight of her squadmates, since taking over she had started them on a training regiment, they needed no more than 3 1/2 hours of sleep to function at full level, they could be ready with only seconds of notice, she rushed down the corridor making it to her star fighter in no time flat, as she made it into the hangar [member="Darth Vyrassu"]'s message appeared, she listened and readied herself. As soon as the message was gone she would jump into the cockpit

As she jumped in she spoke into her earpiece "Call em off" She said and as she did all 12 members of her squad called out their call signs she spoke after the last one "Dark eagle checking in lets get a move on guys, this is not a drill this is what we've been training for, keep it tight and we will get through this"

Upon the last word leaving her mouth she flipped her visor down and hit the ignition, as the fighter hummed to life she let her mind go clear, she felt at home, she didn't have to think, it was as if she was born and raised in this cockpit. She slowly slid the accelerator forward. As she left the Hangar the G's hit her and she was so used to the squeeze it didn't even bother her.

As they left the hangar she surveyed the battle already happening, not much had happened so she ordered her squad to make their way towards the center of the two fleets