Dominion Remnants | NIO Dominion of Tandun III

[Faceless Narrator]

WAR MACHINE
New Imperial Order
OPERATION: IRON RING​

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T A N D U N _ I I I
For the Greater Good of God

Operation: Iron Ring is almost to its conclusion.

After months of warfare throughout the various systems trapped within our territory, dissidence is nigh rooted from these worlds and recast into pure iron. We are at the climax as our forces set their eyes on Kol Huro and Tandun III. Kol Huro may yet be the toughest nut to crack out from the lot; a system that has historically dedicated its infrastructure on the research and manufacturing of weapons, starships, combat droids, armor, and other products meant for war. All seven worlds armed to the teeth and prepare to last out our siege upon them down to the last man.

Tandun III, on the other hand, is a special case of its own. Reconnaissance were able to gather intel before going dark. The Sith Loyalists have grown desperate as they are running guerilla tactics and utilizing insidious devices that are Sithspawns and even Vong technology. We may outnumber them, but the Sith Loyalists are going all out.

T A N D U N III
OBJECTIVE I | THICK GREEN
FOCUS | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS, SPECIAL OPERATIONS, COMPNOR, ARMED FORCES
FOCUS | TANDUN III​

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

And the Sith Loyalists are truly desperate.

They are reserving any conventional offensive, rather they are committing to unconventional methods. Vong technology, Sithspawn, and now they are even trying to learn and utilize the knowledge of the Rakata that once inhabited this planet.

Search and destroy any and all forms of hostility. Root out the Sith and their devices with extreme prejudice as we've always done.

K O L _ H U R O
OBJECTIVE II | WAR MACHINE
FOCUS | ARMED FORCES, SPECIAL OPERATIONS, IMPERIAL KNIGHTS, COMPNOR
FOCUS | KOL HURO SYSTEM​

Total war.

Across the entire system of Kol Huro rages intensive space battles between armadas, the void of space rampaging with capital ships barraging their targets and starfighters racing in deadly dogfights.

The terrain of each planet within the system are bloodied with Imperial and Sith soldiers, clashing at one another in what is to be the climax of Operation: Iron Ring. It is imperative to succeed in this theater as the overall results of this battle will determine how further we are to completing this major campaign.

Make or break.

OBJECTIVE //: BYOO​

Whatever gets you to write, chief.

// SETPIECES //:
> KOL HURO
> TANDUN III

 

[The Operator]

Ida Saxon|New Imperial Order|Tandun
16th Company
Tags: Alex Eldar

"All clear, all units moving in over."


"Copy that, sarge," Ida glanced over and smiled cheekily at the rest of her squad behind her, all of whom were Mandalorians just like she was, lost souls and exiles gathered together in a ragtag band now serving the Imperial state. The irony was not lost on her; after all, it was quaint that a people renowned for their free martial way of life had been reduced to a beaten and exiled people scattered across the galaxy. Only in the case of those left behind at home, they now marched to the tune of the Imperial war drum.

She didn't care for tradition and all that bullchit; she just wanted to survive to see another sunset and ride out the storm. Dar'manda she might've been, she didn't care, those who labelled her that had clung onto tradition and now lay buried deep beneath Mandalores desolate soil while she still lived. Such was fate in a cruel galaxy as the one trillions of beings shared.


The squad stopped before a clearing, the lead of the group pulling out a commlink to send a report back to the forward operating base. Ida peeked over to where Alex or Lex, as she affectionately called her, was positioned, whispering in a hushed but snarky tone.


"You always this morbid?"​

​

 

[TK-67482]

Objective: Wage war
Tags: Open​

KABOOM!!!!

Pulling back into cover, TK-67482 takes a breath as he sees just how close that grenade had been. Even a foot closer and he would have been launched through the air. Hefting his E-Web blaster cannon, the man glances about, taking in his squad. They are in various states of combat, two had been closer to the grenade and were injured or dead. The man neither knew, nor cared, he wasn't their medic. The rest were in cover or returning fire. Frowning at the constant exchange of fire, he was snapped from his thoughts by the squads sergeant.
"MOVE UP TROOPER! I want suppressing fire on those Sith troopers now!"

"Aye sergeant!"
Came his quick reply, before he proceeded to follow said orders. Raising the E-Web, TK-67482 spun the blaster cannon up and stepped out of cover. Holding down the trigger, the heavy weapons specialist let loose a stream of red blaster bolts, which bit into the pavement and cover of the Sith troopers. They promptly ducked into cover, suitably suppressed, while those who didn't make it were cut down. Face impassive, he ignored the return fire streaking towards him, focused on suppressing the foe.

"ADVANCE! All troopers advance!"
Marching forward, laying down a hail of fire, TK-67482 marched towards the foe. To his side, his squad did the same, leap frogging forward. Some would provide covering fire, while others ran to the next section, and then the process repeated. The true constant was TK-67482, advancing calmly and laying down fire, cutting through any foolish enough to rise up. Those that remained in cover likewise received fire, with the heavy's weapons fire slowly digging into concrete and durasteel alike. Onward they advanced, bringing order to chaos, and death to their foes.

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

Obj 2
Konrad Harrsk
OPEN

The task of chasing down these Sith Remnants once more fell to the Fifth Company and other cohorts of the Armed Forces. If he hadn't heard it the last time, Aemilio potentially would've believed that this was the last engagement with the sad bulwarks of psychosis. But the reality was, the Company was chasing down every rumour and group that came across Intel's desk.

Of late, the mission to the Kol Huro system was the most feasible.

The fleet engaging with Remnant Forces confirmed as such.

But this time, the Fifth Company had a different task as other, less experienced bucketheads cracked their skulls in treacherous, unfamiliar ground combat.

Even as laserfire splashed across the shields of the shuttle, resulting in a shaking of the occupants, the Voidwalker did not care. Looking up at the chronometre in his HUD, it counted down the seconds until additional forces slipped into realspace, which forced the defenders to reallocate their fire or face immediate destruction. A second cropped up, counting down the seconds until deployment.

Their objective?

A command tower on Kol Huro III.

They'd have enough units to breach, and the means to secure it. Their mission was to find any information on the last of the Remnants. Locations, numbers, anything that'd help them put an end to this chase. The end result was imminent with the steady closing of the Iron Ring, but still they persisted.

Idiots.

"Harrsk," he said. "It's time," he said to the COMPNOR spawn. Deployment.

They'd not cross paths in weeks, but the pretentious look on his face quickly reminded him as to why they were not friends.

There was a final rumble, and the ramp dropped, opening to the world beyond.

 

[Ragnar Bloodfist]

Objective 1
Tags: Areyon

In minutes of landing on Tandun III, they were beset by the fellbeasts created by the Sith.

They descended upon them with the mindless fury that their creators had envisioned for them. Gnashing teeth, great swiping claws. Little thought if any, to things of greater importance. Simply... Kill. Kill the enemies of these poor Sith Cultists, and stall them so that they may flee.

Ragnar recalled when he had been of their number, when he had grown up in the Order of the Sith.

They had been strong then. Killers that did not run, for they hunted their prey. Core Jedi, Silver Jedi, Rebels. They'd killed them all.

Two alabaster blades sprung out from his obsidian robes, slashing out as he doled out a deathly symphony with swipes and turns, chops and thrusts. Even the occasional leap to cut through a too tall Sithspawn.

In minutes, corpses of both Vong and Sithspawn decorated the landing zone as Ragnar deactivated the silvered hilts.

"The Rakatan Ruins are nearby." The recon team - before going silent, dead, he surmised - had pinpointed its location. A centre both for Vong Warriors and Shapers, poor imitations of what they had been centuries past, or even decades prior in the ranks of the One Sith's Hrosha-Gul.

"This disease will be uprooted at the source."

With naught but a nod to his companions, the Zabrak was off.

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

OBJECTIVE II | WAR MACHINE
ARIDIUS, TK-4324 'Crimson'
OPEN

ABANDON SHIP, REPEAT, ABANDON SH-
The intercom is shut off as a Sith-Empire Capital Ship fires off another Ion-Cannon,
destroying the bridge of the NIO Star-Destroyer; with all it's officers and crew inside.​

"We're making landfall, NOW!" Aridius heard the intermittent radio-calls of his Sergeant as the Stormtroopers and even some Imperial-Navy crewman shuffled unto the Landing-Craft. It was an entire scuttle of the Star Destroyer, it's shields ripped apart by an adjacent Sith-Empire Capital ship that won the broadside. It continued to send barrage after barrage into the mast of the NIO Star-Destroyer; escape pods, TIE-Fighters and other vessels pouring out of it's hangers before the entire structure collapsed. Hundreds, thousands of Stormtroopers rushing into the Landing Crafts for immediate takeoff. { Fuck, fuck, fuck! }

Aridius would think to himself as their landing craft began to take off, strapping himself in and tight as possible. Through the visage ports, he watched as they lifted off- the dozens of other vessels desperate to survive the explosion which may take seconds now. Suddenly, one lucky Ion-cannon strikes the ammunition storage of the Star-Destroyer, ripping it in half and sending the landing craft; with Aridius and several hundred other 501st Stormtroopers inside, tumbling as the entire ship imploded upon itself.

HOLD ON, I'M TRYING TO STABILIZER HER
The Pilot of the shuttle said as it tumbled through the vacuum of the ripped
in half ship. Attempting to evade the shrapnel and bodies that now filled the air.​

Now the Stormtrooper was scared; those inside thrown about and groaning as the ship was finally stabilized. What was once a hangar with ships about to depart was a mixture of shrapnel and floating bodies that weren't able to make it onto an insulated ship. A mixture of Stormtroopers and Imperial Navy Crewman, exposed to Space. Some were still alive, choking to death in the worst ways possible. Beyond the horrible sight of the now destroyed Capital ship was the rest of the battle.

The landing vessel shot -straight- for the surface; hundreds of thousands of smaller spacecraft fighting for dominance over the world that was under siege. The screams of TIE-Fighters, the Star Destroyers that unloaded their batteries in succession with even a Super-Star Destroyer in the far distance; cleaving dozens of Sith-Empire vessels in minutes rather than hours.

Evading through the fire and the almost holy war above, they broke the atmosphere. It wasn't much better down there, either- Sith and Empire fighters both providing ground support/and/ fighting for air dominance. Aridius could already see the towering Imperial AT-AT walkers firing down unto Sith-Empire infantry positions that dug in for the long-siege, with thousands of Stormtroopers from scattered Legions fighting for dominance.

WATCH OUT!
The Shuttle is suddenly struck by a shoulder-mounted launcher, a Sith-Empire
trooper scoring a lucky hit. Annihilating the Pilots and sending it spiraling down.
​

Directly to the right of TK-67482 , the Shuttle that housed Aridius crashed, spraying dirt and gravel all over the Stormtrooper. Nothing but a pile of scrap metal, from the burning wreckage, would suddenly pour out the Stormtroopers of the 501st. Joining the battle with the immediate fury of red-blaster bolts that burst from their weaponry.

Aridius would link his energy-backpack to the Heavy-Blaster Cannon. The familiar sound of it charging up, the energy bars upon its side becoming a bright CRIMSON as it loaded. Prepared to fire. He would burst out from the wreckage of the Shuttle, Aridius immediately aiming it toward the distant positions of the Sith-Empire troopers and pulling the trigger. A long burst of massive red bolts flying through the air. It made landing upon a distant bunker, exploding it. Following the explosion, the mangled body of a Sith-Empire trooper flopping onto the ground not too far away from them.

"FORWARD- NOT ONE STEP BACK!" Aridius would shout outward, his helmet filtering the voice through the sounds of the battle, advancing while still sending streams of death downrange upon the enemy.

​

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

P A L A D I N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER
Ragnar Bloodfist | Areyon

​

A return to form to say the least. His recovery from Coruscant spent on the duties of backline Inquisition left him starving for the field of battle once more. Tandun was no Bastion or Harnaidan, but it was still a chance to battle and slay Sith at the end of his blade. As they emerged from their transport and ventured into the broken field, Geyer took up his heavy shield, magnetically securing it to his now metallic, cybernetic left arm before drawing his saber to his grip with a pull of the force. Argent came alight with its smooth hiss before he lurched into the fray.

A Vong warrior was the first to tread in Waymar's path, only to find his jaw shattered by a bash and swing of Geyer's shield, knocking him to the ground and a stomp on his broken skull killing him immediately after. The Paladin fought as his role entailed- with brutality, ferocity and unyielding.

It was only a few moments before the landing zone was littered with their bodies. Had Waymar's blade not been a lightsaber, it would've been given a bath of bloody crimson, never the less, they were off.

"This disease will be uprooted at the source."

<"Our will be done."> Waymar uttered in reply before following after wordlessly from then on, disengaging his saber even as he continued to effortlessly clutch the shield in the magnetic grip of his cybernetic.

 

[Ignatius]

SECOND BROTHER
INQUISITOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Waymar Geyer Ragnar Bloodfist Areyon ​

White Blades of sabers, plasma, and blasterfire were brought down upon the Sith Spawn, Vong-shaped beings, and all other machinations of the Sith. Their time had long since been called up. Ever since the Imperial Wars, the Knights of the Empire were at the calling to quell and eradicate those that aligned with the Force that opposed the Imperial Order. First, it was the Sith Imperials. Next, it was the Sith who turned on their brethren at the Kyber Dark incident. Furthermore, the constant strikes against the Sith, and even more recent exploits upon Dathomir. It was only soon becoming, that the arms of the Imperial Order would move to encompass the last Sith standing.

This was not just a culling, this was a continuation of what has already been done. The further slaughter of all who had once been oppressors of might by their will of the force.

A man had once a family that had ties to the Sith multiple times over. The Sith ruined what was a family that cherished life. Destroying and becoming all that had once been. I, had once thought the Rule of Order was a potential end to such problems. Foolishly I had wanted grandeur of Light with the "Je'daii." Now, I see the truth. The force is not light. It is not dark.

It is the Iron that is forged within the very bones of those who use it. Religious zealotry was not condoned. It was a stain upon life in an attempt to find something greater than one's self. If one truly wished to give up their life for a greater power, then it would not be under the falsehood of fake gods, bigoted Kings, and Heathen Witch covens.

The Iron Curtain fell down upon the Vong and their creatures. Altered by the force they were heavily. I could feel it even as the Silver blade of plasma bore itself into the hide of a creature, I could feel the darkness of what these creatures were, fading within the force. It was liberating to know, to feel, and to see this might.

A Zabraki Knight called out to all others in his area. Willing all to cut clean this festering wound of the force. Many responded with yells of agreeance, while a few other spoke words to end almost in an Iron Prayer. No words, or acknowledgement came from me. Just a grunt as the Wolf-like spawn fell to the ground with a thud. The lifeless body seared with bolts, and a saber.

Hurried footsteps behind me. A quick turn around revealed one of the Nova Troopers. A Captain who carried a Lance. Bloodied from combat. Followed up with his squad. Their blackened armor painted red naturally, but coated in colors of crimson, and viscera.

"Nearly lost you in the excitement, Sir."
"See that you do not."
"One of the few things Machine out here. Not difficult."
"Rakatan Temple is their location. Keep up, or fall to the Spawn."
"Reminds me of Home on Dantooine, Sir. Hunting is the game we all Play."
"Hunt away Captain."

An act of almost sarcasm, I offered my outstretched hand and bowed as though to let him pass. A butler to their lordship. In return, the Captain, always formal was he, gave a half salute before marching on with his squad of Troopers. Standing there as many more went past. Onward in the fight against the Sithspawn, I twirled the silver blade as I looked down at the barely surviving body of a Vong Warrior. His frame attempting to grab a weapon just out of reach. No smile was visible upon my face, but any man with sight, could see it was in my eyes.

"This will be fun."

A metallic hand reached down. Grabbing the individual by the back of the head. A turning over to face me. The saber's hum fell silent as my other hand grabbed his chin. He tried to talk through blood, but would find I can be incredibly difficult to talk to. Now that I had taken my metal hand, shoving it down his gullet, and began to rip his jaw off. Snapping bones and nearly pooling blood underneath both of us. Groans that would have been screams of pain left him.

Holding his jaw in hand, a kick sent him sprawling away from me where he would die by bleeding out and in absolute pain.

"Welcome to the New World. Where your Gods are dead."

 

[Noel Strasza]

S T R A S Z A
LORD EXECUTOR
Nephilim | "Doombringer" | Shockgaunts

F A U L T L I N E
The Fringes of the Carlac Province
ONBOARD THE DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR
​

"Lord Executor, we're approaching our destination." A voice rattled her senses back to focus, drawing her away from the cumbersome weight of her reflection on the task commanded of her. Uncanny eyes flickered from their far-reaching peer, refocusing on the viewports sprawled out before the bridge. She had cast her considerations to the streaking lights blazing by in obscurity, leaving them in the trail of The 7th Fleet's advance upon the world she had considered home. Wordlessly, the cyborg nodded her head in acknowledgment, allowing the circulating air of the vessel to swirl into her armored chest.

It was too far gone to leave it be, she had assured herself of that, knowing well that while her proposition to just let the restless dead rot over time was practical, so too was this plan. Obliterating the surface of the world was optimal in the narrowing window of time they had, as at any point really, they could expect to come under attack from The Brotherhood of the Maw. Such was their strength, something she had learned in her time deep within their heart; ambushes. They were a band of marauders given a dose of grandeur too heavy for their own good. It fell to them at the end of the day, the New Imperials, to ensure they were stamped out and their spirits were broken. They could not rely on the Galactic Alliance anymore.

The notion made her sick, remembering well the night Iron Paid on Ziost for the Galactic Alliance, and their cowardly Chancellor had the audacity to suggest they withdraw despite their heavy casualties. She had looked a wounded Irveric Tavlar in the face, all his broken men behind him, and dared imply they had lost. She had never suffered in the trenches. She had never consoled a brother on his death bed as he struggled to hold his innards into proper arrangement as they poured from a hole blasted through the armor that should have safeguarded him. It was good she was gone from authority. Though the cyborg would never outright vocalize delight in the suffering of a once-ally, the notion that she was no longer going to be a stone barring their path was a grand relief.

"Prepare to exit hyperspace." the PA system echoed throughout the sprawling starship, the first the New Imperials had ever constructed of their own volition.

The cyborg reached forth, curling her armored fists around the rail stationed forward, and awaited the sudden lurch from faster-than-light to normalcy. And when it came she released a heavy sigh, glaring through the transparisteel at the dead planet growing larger in the viewport. There was a time when seeing it brought her some peace, the kindling for a wave of ease and respite. And it was exactly that fondness that invoked her wrath. It had been perverted, corrupted, and twisted so far out of the vision of hope it had become that there was no redemption for it but holocaust.

"Prepare the transports for dispatch, the rest of the fleet will commence base-delta-zero on my mark," she commanded coldly as her grip loosened from its hold.

"Right away, ma'am." the Admiral of the grand vessel set to motion, turning himself to bark orders to the crew, leaving her to her cross-armed glower.

The cyborg's eyes fluttered from motion to motion, watching the crew tend to their communique and duties, patching her orders through. They would waste no time, just as they would spare none who lingered on the surface, be it for clandestine purposes, or anything else. There was a native tribe of peoples on the planet, the very same one Halketh had made mention of wishing to evacuate with the rest of the citizens who refused to fight. They had refused, their chief solidifying the point that their people had endured the tyrannical terror of the Death's Watch, and would endure whatever indiscriminate retribution the New Imperials had in store for them. She felt a brief pang of remorse spike through her cores, but it was as fleeting as everything else as of late. The Ming Po had made their choice, just as Halketh had, and they would suffer the consequences- if any of them were still alive.

"Ma'am, the fleet is ready, and the troops are sorted for dispatch. They await you below."

"I'll give the order once we're clear," Strasza fixed her piercing eyes on the man and offered him a resolute nod before hefting her helmet onto her head and securing it into place with a twist. She turned sharply and marched from the bridge, her retinue of 501st close on her heels, pulled from their positions of a guard on her flank.

In silence, the company ventured through the sprawling ship, grasping at the gravity of the intimidating task ahead of them.

Such was not lost to them as they arranged themselves into the transports designated for their launch, a venture to a planet not-so-far-away, the second under the thumb of the traitor and one that had suffered neglect when compared to Carlac: Wistril. Imperial outposts on the planet meant to serve as rest and checkpoints both had become temporary homes for the relocated citizens of the icy tombworld, and it was those citizens she was to personally help investigate before sending them back to work underground on their home. Nova Vox would endure the orbital battery as it was built to do, and those who still held loyalty to The Empire would be returned to their positions. Those who did not, however minor their dissident may have been, would swiftly be dealt with.

There was no room for doubt.

"Launch, let's get moving." Strasza's distorted voice crackled over the commo implanted in her artificial cords, and immediately, it was answered by the propulsed drop of their transports in a sequential launch. She sat down, strapping herself in at the helm of the formation, peering back briefly at the unfamiliar COMPNOR agents she was to work alongside and at the stormtroopers she was far keener on.

D E V I L
IMPERIAL OUTPOST #986-A
WISTRIL
​

The outpost was flooded by terrified faces at a scale she had not seen since the destruction of Csilla and the efforts made to rehome the refugees and survivors. The melting pot of Carlac had overflowed and spilled onto its sister world, the diversity of species corraled together in warehouses converted into refugee centers meant to house them long-term. Halketh had expected the worst possible outcome, and that much was the last good thing he had done for the Imperial citizens who had trusted him to act in their best interest. There were enough rations to be found, nearly enough cots to accommodate each body, and a plethora of tasks to keep the busy bodies active. Those stormtroopers entrusted to her rushed down the ramp first, their more lax demeanor still seeing them with blaster rifles at low ready, on the off-chance it was an outright mutiny the Lord Executor had stumbled into.

But it was not so, upon her descent down the ramp, the soldier was greeted only by a gathering of the refugees who had come to see who their unexpected visitor was. The troops stationed here ran it as tightly as she had expected them to, and for the most part, all seemed well. They had not received any reports of mutiny or dissidence from the outposts, and it was abundantly clear now even upon first glance why: these were Imperial citizens.

Or so it seemed.

She would get to the heart of the matter soon enough, as she would anything else that she set to do. Ripping snakes out of the grass was her newfound duty and passion, and something that none would be exempt from. Duty or station, rank, and position- the lowly laborer to the vaunted Warlords and Moffs, all would be scrutinized to see if they were truly fit for their duties. "Sergeant, fetch the outpost commander, I'll speak with him first." The Lord Executor broke the casual silence before a turn of her head gave attention to the COMPNOR agents lingering at her heels, "You all break off, fan out. I want data logs, reports, medical records, everything. We will sort through all information we have before we set to uncovering our own, and from that, we will find our Halketh Loyalists."

The cyborg turned on her heel in partial, her focus solely finding Djorn Bline in the mix, the esteemed Director of Progress himself, "Director, I want you to run connections back from the bait site we established, get me the device addresses of those at the access point here who visited it. They will be the first we evaluate." It was an underhanded ploy cooked up by COMPNOR and the Lord Executor, the creation of a Caelitus Loyalist page to corral the masses who were actually stupid enough to fall for it. Be it human curiosity that drove its visitors to access it, or insidious intention, they were set to decipher it.

"Ma'am," her attention was drawn back by the sergeant she had commanded prior, and the officer he returned with, "This is Lieutenant Commander Oskins." The trooper gestured with a hand in stiff introduction.

Strasza mirrored the salute offered her way by the commander, freeing him to move as he pleased. "It seems like you're running a tight ship here, Commander," the Lord Executor droned, "walk with me, let's have a talk."

"Of course, Lord Executor," he nodded in turn, falling in step beside the armored woman, "Your visit here is a rare treat, our outposts often go neglected by the high command."

She kept her helmeted features in his direction as she moved with mechanized haste, making her way toward the command center of the modest post, "You can expect much more frequent visits moving forward." was all she offered for the time.

B E A U T Y
In Orbit of Carlac
THE 7TH FLEET | DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR
​

<"Commence the operation."> The Lord Executor's words echoed across the bridge of each vessel, her voice the tolling bell for the beginning of Carlac's end.

"Synchronize communications with the secondary vessels, I want us all on the absolute same page, no munitions will go to waste, no patch of this wretched hive will be missed." The Admiral tucked his hands against the small of his back, a steel glower fixed squarely on the planet they coasted over. "Full bombardment, all guns rotate to positions."

"Diverting power, sir!"

"Communications uplink established, the BattleNet is secure, sir!"

He nodded, expecting as much from his crew. "Hold fire until my order." Teeth ground together in his skull, the cords of his jaw flexing with the anticipation of the destruction to come. It wasn't often he was handed down orders as intense as this set had been and he was more than eager to see precisely how his fleet would execute them. This was more than just about proving to would-be insurgents that none of their ilk would be tolerated, it was more than just reestablishing Imperial superiority over Sith villainy- this was justice for the death of a man who had changed the galaxy.

"Our weapons are ready, sir, the other vessels report the same."

"Very good," he drew a curt breath through his nose, chest swelling beneath the pressed lay of his uniform, "All ships, prepare to fire."

This was more than justice, even.

"Fire!"

It was beautiful retribution.

The massive vessel shuddered, its thunder felt where it could not be heard, unleashing its first barrage of blinding malice to plunge through the atmosphere and shatter the icy world beneath. It was echoed in kind by the tremor of the vessels arranged alongside it.

The base delta zero of Carlac had begun.​

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

Aurelian Sigismund,
High Imperator, Shield of Vandemar, Grandmaster of the Legions
✠ Objective: I. Thick Green
✠ Location: Tandun III
✠ Gear: Mk. VII Armor, Lancer-blaster, Paladinblade, Scutum, Grenades
✠ Assets: Cohort I, Legio II 'Victorix Magna'
✠ Tag(s): Waymar Geyer , Ragnar Bloodfist , Areyon , Ignatius

THEME
​

Aside from the thundering sound of the gunship dipping into the atmosphere, the air and fire grasping for its life, the rattling of the vehicle and the feeling of the violent grab of gravity, it was completely silent. The radio was silent, the legionnaires were silent and just sitting. Fifty soldiers jumping into a warzone and nobody was giving a single noise. Each was sitting silently in their seat, fastened by gravity belts to keep the heavy warriors in their seats during the violent atmospheric entry.

Everything has been said a few minutes earlier in the hangars of the warship. The briefing was over and everyone knew their task. The Cohort was all the forces stationed on the Phalanx currently, the call for aid reached the Vandemarians right after their visit to that feudal world. Usually a Cohort was more than enough though. It would be seen in short time if it was the case here as well. Sithspawn, Vong and ancient technology, even older than the High Imperator himself. Curious.

Sigismund was leading this planetfall, the Imperials had already begun their landing to approach some ruins which were even older than himself. Remarkable, but just the remnants of another fallen Empire, claimed by the remnants of yet another failed Sith realm. One would believe they learn in time. It is what gives them power what blinds them, but they would never realise it. Short sighted and narrow minded Dark siders are just one of the many failures the Force has produced over time.

The pilots voice was breaking the silence as it echoed through the com-channel. "Twenty seconds."

Even before the voice ended the second word and the closing of the channel was done, a nearly simultanous clicking noise was heard as the Legionnaires turn their weapons to their preferred firing mode. They did not need any further order for it or a reminder by their Optio. Aurelian put his Lancer into burst mode with a single snap of his finger. While the soldiers inside the aft-section of the Stormeagle were readying their weapons, the pilots at the front were already unleashing theirs. There was a light vibration as weapons started to clear the landing zone.

The landing zone was one five hundred meters in front of the targetted ruins, masses of Sithspawn and other abominations of Vong and cultists were around, staring at the incoming death from above. They chose the closest possible landing zone to cut to their prey right away, there was no reason to go a long way.

The transport set onto the ground, the ramps exploded outwards as fifty heavily armored warriors moved out, their weapons already firing, led by their High Imperator . . . .

​

 

[Xeykard]

Ragnar Bloodfist Waymar Geyer Areyon Ignatius Aurelian Sigismund
​

There was so little left.

With this last sector of space surrounded and the Imperials closing in, the feeling of despair deepened. Some took it as fuel. Negative emotions, fear, anger, hate, all built on everything they had suffered. The few remaining knights and acolytes almost gave thanks that the Imperials had given them no way out -- it would be harder to douse the flames if they were given means to.

Xeykard, though, found it created apathy within him. He didn't know how to feel. It just didn't seem the time to launch himself back in without a thought, as he had done so many times previously, last at Generis. Ever since the lightning, the raw darkness had poured through him, and his arm had been destroyed -- he understood why he had never been able to achieve that power before.

And now, rumors were abound of the Sith Empire's retreat from their previous holdings, to hide out in nowhere. They'd received transmissions of the 'refugees' of the Tingel Arm. Once he had thought the Empire to be the most formidable force in the galaxy, and now it was pathetic, reduced to pleading and hiding behind citizens. He wanted to be angry, but instead he found a sort of sadness, a void in his dark heart.

He did not know why he fought. There was no reason to the destruction, just the knowledge that they were coming for him, for the remnants, the tiny scraps that still held even here. He had no wish to die, yet equally little reason to live.

When they came he was not abound with fury or drunk on power, but he sat, waiting, hunched on the steps of the Rakatan ruins where the few Vong shapers had made their home. He was frigid, ice like iron. Fueled only by self preservation and some misplaced sense of duty he rose, igniting his saber. He clutched the great fiery club and settled into an opening stance.

The cries of the dying beasts that had been let loose were enough of an alarm. Saber held in front of him, he waited, because he knew they were coming for him.

 

[Savoh Muska]

Objective: War Machine
Forces: 3 Raider Class Corvettes

​

Bom, Bom, Bom...

In the void of space within the Kol Huro system a trio of corvettes reveled themselves though hyperspace. Over one of the seven manufacturing planets where a battled raged between the NIO and Sith Loyalists. Just outside of a buzzing hornets nest of starfighters in a brutal dogfight Savoh and his team of ships would provide the less glorious but vital fucntion of cleaning up and screening through enemy bogies.

Through his cybernetic brain Savoh took autocratic control over the maneuvering of his ships. Linking up with their computers to coordinate them as they made their way towards the chaos of battle. There his loyal droid crews would begin their their assault, each of the corvettes would begin firing their twin heavy laser cannons, together as to quickly mow through the hostile starfighters in the area.

The three corvettes moving forwards nearly side by side with one another, Savoh himself in the center, commanding the three ships from his bridge. Quickly it would seem as though him and his trio of craft were making short work of starfighters and their dog fight that ragged around them. Freeing up the number of friendly starfighters to push fourth in an advance towards the larger vessels.

 

[Alric Árheim]

G O D H U N T E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BARON OF SÓLRIKE
Durasteel Full Plate [x] | Mandalorian Iron War Hammer [x]

Xeykard | Ragnar Bloodfist | Waymar Geyer | Areyon | Ignatius | Aurelian Sigismund

---

OBJECTIVE ONE
​

The gunship rattled all around the set of three. Alric had been careful to only bring a select few on this deployment with him. It was to be a smaller scale operation, as he was told, and wouldn’t require the raw amount of bodies that he was used to in work with the New Imperial Order. Instead of the mob of men-at-arms, he instead brought two of his most trusted knights with him on the venture. Siegwulf and Theodoric, both had served in nearly as military campaigns to defend the barony as Alric did, and now they were jettisoning through the atmosphere of a world none of them had even heard about in order to stomp out the last remnants of an Empire they had never encountered. If it wasn’t for the stories that were told, the briefings he was given during his time at Bastion, the flow of information that burned into Solrike the moment he gave his vassalage over to the NIO, he wouldn’t have ever found a reason to care.

Now? He knew something.

This was Holy Work.

The gunship made landfall, and the more traditional soldiers around them, sturmmanniz as they were known in Solrikisc, prepared their blasters and checked powerpacks, the knights and baron checked the edges of their swords and the strappings on their armor. Whispers to Dyēus and Dhéǵhōm were made in the privacy of their helmets. They weren’t blind to the reality of their situation. They were technologically illiterate, with very little understanding of the workings of the world around them.

They knew how to fight, though. And they knew what was right in this world.

<”Go, go, go!”> A disembodied voice boomed through the gunship. The door dropped suddenly open to a field of blasterfire, monstrosities of teeth and wrong-flesh, and desecrated ruins. He was told that they were dropping in one of the more active locations, it seemed as if that was true.

The stormtroopers and knights broke out, with the troopers seeking cover, the knights formed in front of their baron. Shields held forward as blaster bolts cracked against them like drum-beats.

Eventually, they hit the first of the Sith defenders.

Alric threw his entire being into the swing of his pole-hammer, cracking clean through the plate of the Sith Remnant Trooper’s helmet, sending a scattering of crimson throughout the field. A blaster bolt rebounded off of his shoulder as he kicked the twitching corpse off of the weapon. A miasma of gore hanging off of the end of it. The soldier stumbled backwards, dropping his blaster as he went.

“Laibijaþiz neain uzlibjandz!”

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

OPERATION IRON RING
OBJECTIVE I | THICK GREEN
OPPOSING | SITH LOYALISTS

​

A NEW OPEX.
— 869 ABY, atmosphere, Tandun III.

The unstoppable roll of the dropship rocked Dub-Fi as the pressure was going high in his body. Operation Iron Ring was an opex like the others but he could not stop this sensation in his bowels. The ships were carrying DM&S-113 APCs with a squad of ten or so commandos for each of them. By the way, ‘55 was with his squad, led by Sergeant Skull, his officer for a couple of years right now.

“Dub-Fi, are ya oski with doing the gunner's job this time?” Skull asked.

The Anaxsi commando nodded.

“Sure, sir. It’ll be a pleasure for me, as always!”
“Good boy.” the Sergeant answered. “Seven-Four, ya’ll go with me on the ground, oski?”
“Yes sir.” the newbie replied dryly. “Am I taking the column's back?”
“Hmm… I think yes. ‘62 is taking the front, as always, and ya’re replacing Double-Five, so yeah, it’s your turn.”

<Deployment in thirteen seconds! Please prepare yourselves to landing!> the pilot said.

“OK, everyone in position!” the Sergeant ordered his men.

He opened the door between the soldiers' compartiment and the cockpit, speaking to the APC driver.

“Everything’s oski for ya?”
“Affirmative sir, just let me check the armament and the hull’s integrity…” he answered while waiting for a positive signal from his dashboard. “Aaaaaaan’... yes! Everything’s fine, sir, we can deploy this baby.”
“Yeepa!” Skull answered with a smile.

<Ten seconds before deployment! Stay tuned!>

The Sergeant closed the door and gave a look to the eight men under his command. They were good soldiers, and good commandos, even if half of them did not participate in the Battle of Coruscant, one year ago. But to Skull, it was all the same. The valor of a man had nothing to do with his seniority. It was only a question of skills.

<Five, four, three, two, one…>

The APC’s ground shook brutally, the sign that they were on Tandun III.

<Deployment!>

Kelga’an took a look to his macrobinoculars. The battlefield ahead was desert, probably a minefield, by the way. He stew his binoculars in his front pack and went into his APC, known as Le Sacrement. He sighed heavily while taking a look at the tank interior.

“What’s going on, Cap?”
“Nothin’ good, Sergeant.” Kelga’an answered. “Maybe a minefield right in front of us.”
“Stang!”

Kelga’an nodded. He ordered the gunner to do an express demining with the help of the explosive barrel positioned at the back of his vehicle. Le Sacrement had taken the front of the tank’s column because he had the demining stuff and to protect his commandos. He made a point of being a shield for his men -- being the Anaxsi Shield. The injuries caused by Coruscant ops were still in his body, and the trophy that he had taken on the Sith was attached to his hips, constantly reminding of this fight against a Force user.

The commandos heard a big noise fifty or so meters ahead, followed by a series of other ‘Ka-boom!’ coming from the mines which were exploding after the barrel had shot.

<Everyone in the APCs. Put a distance of twenty meters between two vehicles. Stay tuned for additional orders and inform me of any casualties.> he said on the comlink.

The column restarted slowly, moving forward in the minefield.
​

 

[Alex Eldar]

S H A D O W
SERGEANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOME KRIFFING PLACE | TANDUN III
TAG: The Operator | Shai Maji | Open
GEAR: Armour | 2x Pistols | Battle Rifle | Sniper Rifle |Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives | Basilisk | Grenade loadout

HUNTER'S MOON​

"Kriffing Dar'jetti and their kriffing simps and their kriffing abominations."

Lex was grumbling behind her helmet as they moved through the landscape. It was morbid and she expected some kind of spawn to hop onto them from the shadows. The particle rifle was in her hands, finger not far from the trigger, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. If they survived the particle beam, that is.

The squad was a lucky packet of Mando'ade of all shapes, colours and sizes - perfect for what needed to be done. Plus Beskar, so durability was better than the run of the mill Trooper. But the reports that have stemmed from here, were troubling. No one knew what to expect.
"By all means, send the tin cans in first. Who cares if they get ripped apart, right?" she grumbled some more. One the one side, she actually felt sorry for the CO's who CO-ed her CO if any of the Sixteens ever got compromised and were then turned loose on the rest of the Order.

They stopped under cover just before some clearing as her fellow Sergeant touched base.

"You always this morbid?"

Lex's visor turned towards Ida. "Buy me a drink and I might warm up." she said. "But first I need to flex my trigger finger on some freaks." she added before turning her attention to the front again.

Sarge had just directed them to move ahead, when Lex's HUD glitched slightly before lighting up with warnings all around. For a moment, she could not exactly figure out what was going on.
<Wardog, this is Malraas. Do you read?> Sarge hailed their Commander, Shai Maji who had been scouting ahead. <What's your visual? We had some interference.>
Lex slowly lifted her rifle to the shoulder as nothing but static answered them through the comms. Suddenly, every bush felt like it had eyes.

"Kriffing Dar'jetti." she said quietly as her heart was beating in her throat.

 

[Ragnar Bloodfist]

Objective 1
Tags: Waymar Geyer - Ignatius - Aurelian Sigismund - Areyon - Alric Árheim
Xeykard

<"Our will be done.">

Nothing but a confirming nod was offered to the Knight-Paladin.

Much had changed for the Knights, but the basis of their purpose, their mission, remained.

Cut through a Sith Trooper once, and you may as well have done it a hundred times before. The only difference in these cleansing missions was the climate. Bastion and Helgard. Two urban settings of gargantuan cities. Mass deployments of troops on both sides. The only difference? Helgard was a frozen wasteland before they had turned the terrain to fire.

Now that he was returned, Ragnar fell into the groove of Gray Cloak as if he had never left.

The route to the encampment was a straight line through forested area. They were quickly set upon by creatures and monsters of the night, just like the landing zone. A Yuuzhan Vong warrior charged him from the underbrush, swinging its amphistaff at him as it leapt out.

The Zabrak's form slid down, skidding across the ground as his saber spun out. Igniting to cleave the leg at the calf before his second followed in the wake of the first, splitting off to take the Vong's head off at the throat before they hit the ground.

The sounds of battle echoed through the trees, skirmishes and battles occurred all around them. The once Sith was glad to know that his flanks were secured, though there was some selfish desire to kill more.

Ragnar exploded into the encampment's clearing, dark orbs sweeping the area as he moved. Silver beams weaving a barrier in front of him as he batted bolts back from whence they came. Legionnaires dropped, and through the falling bodies Ragnar caught eyes on the towering Sith.

He immediately beelined.

His legs pumped, the Force sped them to greater lengths. Longer bounds. By the third step he was in the air, batting a lucky trooper's bolt away before he reached the pinnacle of his arc. Gravity drawing him downwards to the Barabel, left handed saber descending on the Sith's right shoulder as he made to soar over him.

 

[Shai Maji]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
OBJECTIVE 1: THICC GREEN | TANDUN III
TAG: The Operator | Alex Eldar | Open
GEAR: In bio | Basilisk War Droid | Standard loadout

HELL MARCH
​

Shai moved as quietly as she could through the woods, her vision modes practically useless. The thick brush messed up her thermals and using night vision in the middle of the day was just retarded to say the least. Overall, she had to rely on the trusty ol' nose and ears for this one. Not that it helped much, the simps on the planet knew it better than they did and they were using whatever dirty tricks they could to beat the Order back with this one.

Like that was going to happen.

She had left the rest of the Sixteens to scout ahead and figure out what they were dealing with. At the rate this was going, ordering a couple dozen strafing runs would likely be the order of the day. It wouldn't be very effective,,, but it would make her feel better at the very least. She only hoped that the Company was still in one piece and the sergeant she left in charge didn't mess anything up. She was rather embarrassed by the fact that she couldn't remember which one she left in charge. This operation was still new to her. To get into an entirely new groove, even one she had yearned for over the course of literal years, took time.

She finished up with her current spot and moved on. Her gaze was focused and scanning every part ahead and around her for something out of place. Odd leaves, wires, whatever the Sith left for their advance. Despite not finding anything, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched...

Blasterfire erupted through the woods not too far from the main group close to the clearing. It went on for a moment or so before a distressed Shai came into view, zipping past the trees and trying not to fly into them. In all fairness, she was bothered more by the bolts that flew past her than the actual branches she occasionally crashed through.

She skidded to a halt along the ground and scrambled to her feet, gripping her rifle to her chest as she spun around. "Scoutin' report, they're over there!" She growled as she pointed to the direction ahead of them. Her visor might have been blank, but the scowl on her mug was quite clear in her voice. "Rifles, grenades, wacky armour. Likely Vong. Couple dozen, dug in with a kriffin' repeater as well." She briefed as she composed herself and checked for any wounds. The armour held up at least. "Alright, let's move!" She barked, taking point with her rifle at the ready. :: Weapons hot and heads on a swivel, There can be more around us- ::

Her warning over the comms were cut short as blaster bolts zipped through them from the left, hidden in the brush of the forest. Shai knelt down and returned fire in retaliation. :: Anyone got a visual? ::.

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

P A L A D I N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER
Ragnar Bloodfist | Areyon | Alric Árheim | Aurelian Sigismund | Ignatius
Xeykard

​

A primal dance of death. It was a savage return to what paved the early evolution of warfare. Where the New Order typically waged war with overwhelming force and firepower, it was now here, in the fray and on the field with fire and sword. The rush of blood at the end of his blade propelled him into deeper combat at Ragnar's follow through. Sith Remnant troopers and rampant acolytes would meet the same fate conscious of the force or not.

A trooper unloaded his rifle in the direction of Geyer. He hefted his shield to immediately take the blows, the particle beams splashing against heavy metal in futile defiance. He lunged forward to press the shard of alabaster through the trooper's chest before wrenching the saber out with a kick to his abdomen, letting his lifeless body tremble to the broken ground beneath.

His gaze snapped in the direction of Ragnar once more as he furrowed into the brush. He lurched into the fray to battle the crimson beast, brazen and uncaring for what the Barabel could inflict on him, Ragnar drew his blades as the Templar he was molded to be. To find the strongest enemy and kill him. But so too must Waymar do his duty.

He was quick to follow and immediately following Ragnar's first strikes against the Barabel he held his shield in front of him before throwing his weight forward into a violent charge to slam it against the monstrous reptilian in the hopes of slamming the Sith to the ground.

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

Obj II
Aemilio Valaar
OPEN

​

Konrad Harrsk was back to being attached to the his old Company, the Fifth of the Five O' First. And back to fighting mentally unstable Sith-Imperial remnant.

"I grow tired of fighting these lunatics, day in and day out." the assassin stated, "Even more so of NAVCOM's insistence to deploy 501st assets on this wild goose chase. Clearly, they must be equally deranged in the mind as these mongrels."

"Perhaps it would be wiser if we simply find the source of this new coping drug that they seem to be consuming at an alarming rate." he added, muttering.

A blaster bolt grazed his shoulderpad as he drew his blade.

"I'll find another way in. Have your men cover me." he said, took a step forward, then halted, tilting his back at Aemilio, "Or don't."

The mutagen released a layer of its particles into his system and the assassin rushed under the fire in blurring, zig-zag motions towards the tower. If he could find a way in and open the gate to the tower then this might be over much quicker.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

ACQUISITION: PART IV // KOL HURO

Aiko Hayata | Gat Tambor​

---

---

A quintet of crescent-shaped battleships loitered on the edge of the Kol Huro system, well clear of the fiery engagement between the New Imperial Order and what remained of the Sith holdouts. Bearing the sigil of the Trade Federation, the vessels were officially on station to provide logistical support to the war machine of the Iron Sun as it again drove the enemy before them, liberating another world the Sith had long held dear.

Unofficially, the Directors of the Trade Federation were here to keep an eye on their investments.

“You really can’t fault their, ah, efficaciousness,” Tithe noted. Since occupying the world, the industrialists had busied themselves with bringing the planet-spanning factories of the seven worlds back online. TF-series battle droids had been tasked to remove any squatters or holdouts, but the vast scale of the factory complex which so appealed to the Trade Federation also benefited their enemy.

Fortuitously, Operation Iron Ring has set its sights on pacifying the world. And pacifying they were - the effectiveness of the NIO was, as always, commendable. While Tithe’s proclivities drew him toward amassing credits, he would not help but be impressed by the efforts of the military to cleanse the worlds. From the point of view of his other lesser role as Chancellor, it was a reminder of the might that the Iron Sun bore. A sobering reminder.

A delusionist may claim this was ’as by design’. And while the Sith remnant threat had been a thorn in the side of the Trade Federation and their efforts to revitalise Kol Huro, evacuating their factories ahead of the attack was costing them credits. A holographic projection of their losses above the forward view screen of the battlecruiser kept the drag on their business at front of mind. Contacts would need to be delayed, deadlines would slip. While these were part and parcel of business, the risk to the credit lines made the Aargauun uncomfortable.

An explosion erupted on one of the worlds as an NIO ordinance found its mark. Tithe reassured himself that they had been needing to clear land, though the likelihood of that being in the same region was astronomically low.

“I trust we can invoice Fel for his any remodelling?”