Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Campaign Scouring of Chains: The Strike on Sleheyron




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Sleheyron stood as one of the vital arteries that fed the wider galaxy into Hutt Space, a beacon of trade forged from slavery and refined tibanna gas. Long has it aided in sustaining the Hutts with a steady and invaluable income, a stability which has now made it a prime target for the Order of Wonosa's mission to decapitate the criminal elements of the Outer Rim. Unlike their more subtle incursion of Orondia, their arrival to Sleheyron was rather easily seen and quickly recorded and sent out to neighboring systems in various calls for aid.
The prime scene of their assault beginning being a recording of the Harbinger of Absolution drifting into the planet's orbit and bombarding the Vosadii Techno-Palace until it cracked and collapsed under its own weight.
Since then a deluge of landing craft and gunships have beset the largest cities adorning the planet's surface, loosing their stored troops by the dozen and raining hellfire upon any defenders that have reared their heads. Wanton destruction hasn't been the goal however. Instead the most defensive points have been blasted apart as a cover for their true goals. The slave pens and the gas factories.

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Undoubtedly the main target of the Wonosan efforts has been the freeing, and in many cases arming, of the enslaved populations of Sleheyron. Great auction houses have become deadly firefights, slave pens are being evacuated en masse, and the open markets and stalls where sentients have been traded like commodities are now being turned into scenes of riotous vengeance against the criminal authorities. The Wonosans have began commandeering spaceports in order to rescue the slaves and transport them off-world in large freighters, however they're also quite intent on spurning as many as they can into fighting against the Hutts' gangs and enforcers as part of an all out uprising.
Darth Strosius Himself has been seen leading the newly freed slaves into battle alongside His forces.

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Perhaps even more lucrative than the slave trade in the Outer RIm is that of fuel and ammunition, much of which are refined from factories all across Sleheyron. Factories which are now besieged and in the process of being dismantled and siphoned from by Wonosan soldiers. More freighters have been brought in and anchored over the largest of the factories, stealing the stockpiles of gas for their own war effort whilst at the same time pulling apart the valuable machinery and mechanisms that make the refineries function. Most likely in order to not only sabotage the planet's gas production for some time but also to later make use of such things for their own refinement industry.



 

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Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Open!
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It wasn't often that Darth Strosius felt quite so...resolved.

There was always more to be done of course. Another enemy to face. Another battle to prepare for. Another war to wage. Peace was a lie and rest was scarce within the galaxy these days. Yet even with blaster bolts and shouting all around Him, the masked man couldn't help but feel content. As if He was right where He was meant to be. Given that His current position was at the head of a formerly enslaved rabble marching through the center of a Hutt town, perhaps that musing was fairly accurate.

"Show them your fury! Show them your might! Bring forth your rage and let it fly unhindered and unbound as you are now!"

Sleheyron was a necessary first strike, a crucial piece of the Hutt economy yet one that lay vulnerable enough for His forces to make an all out assault against it without having to fear for digging their own graves in the process. It had two very valuable resources that His soldiers were securing even now as He cleaved into another Gamorrean guard with His lightsaber and flung their body aside with a flick of His wrist. Manpower and fuel. Neither of which were in short supply on this wretched world.

"Let no criminal or tyrant bar your path any longer! This world is as stolen as you were from your own homes, show them the folly of their ways!"

All He had to do was buy enough time for His forces to gather as much as their freighters could carry of both and this day would mark the first great step towards cleansing the Hutt Sector of its filth and corruption. Ideally though of course, Sleheyron would fall properly to the uprising that He was seeking to ignite. Ideally it would be the first domino in a short string that would spell the demise of the Hutts. But ideals didn't win wars, thus He kept hacking into His foes and urging the freed populace at His back forwards.

"Let none be spared as they did not spare you! Take your destiny back from them, one life at a time!"

 
Darth Sycophantia, Queen of Hearts
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scouring of chains
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[]

Savage Queen of Hearts

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weapon: draconic scourge
outfit: attire
tag(s): open

The descent to Sleheyron was like sinking through the throat of some planetary furnace-god. From the viewport of my shuttle, I watched rivers of molten fire vein their way between endless districts of black durasteel and blackened towers, each structure jutting from the volcanic crust like the teeth of a colossal predator.

Smoke rose in funereal columns that stained the heavens crimson and ash-gray, while distant flashes of orbital bombardment painted the horizon with brief wounds of light.


Darth Strosius Darth Strosius campaign had wrapped itself around the world like an iron noose, squeezing tighter with every passing cycle. My vessel settled upon the landing pad of Habba the Hutt's estate, mere meters from the sprawling silhouette of the Vosadii Techno-Palace, whose illuminated spires gleamed through curtains of sulfurous haze.

As I descended the ramp, I could already feel the anxiety permeating the estate like a disease. Fear had a taste in the Force, and on Sleheyron it lingered upon every breath.

By the time I entered Habba's audience chamber, the atmosphere had become nearly tangible. The great Hutt reclined upon his dais amidst mountains of wealth, exotic guests, armed retainers, and bounty hunters whose fingers hovered just a little too close to their holsters.

The moment his bulbous eyes settled upon me, he erupted into a thunderous stream of Huttese. The chamber shook with his rage. Each guttural syllable lashed the room like a whip crack. Conversations died instantly. Guards straightened. Mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances. Even the musicians faltered in their playing.

The tension spread outward in ripples until the entire hall seemed suspended beneath the weight of Habba's fury. When at last his tirade ended, his protocol droid stepped forward, photoreceptors flickering nervously.
"His Excellency demands to know why the Sith are here. You are one of them, his family, our de..."

The droid halted abruptly as I raised a hand as red as their world outside.


"That will do," I said softly, my voice carrying far more effectively than a shout ever could. My gaze remained fixed upon Habba as I offered a respectful incline of my head, a gesture as sincere as a poisoned chalice.

"Sith are Sith, Habba. I possess no more control over this situation than you do. He acts according to his own ambitions, as I do. But consider this; I am the devil you know. The lesser of the two evils standing before your door."

For several heartbeats there was silence. Then Habba threw back his immense head and released a booming bellow of laughter that rolled through the chamber like distant artillery. He jabbered another string of Huttese, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement.

The protocol droid translated with visible reluctance.
"His Excellency says no Sith is a lesser evil. He says he is merely forced to know his devil, and that dealing with you is the opposite of a lesser evil." A slow smile curled across my lips.

Dark amusement stirred within me like something ancient awakening beneath black waters.
"And yet," I whispered as gently as a cold breeze on a winter night, the smile widening ever so slightly, "here we both are."
 

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CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
SLEHEYRON, HUTT SPACE
OBJECTIVE II: GAS GAS GAS


Ronhar and the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant certainly had no love for the Hutts, but they certainly did for the supplies that the Hutts possessed.

Tibanna refineries. Rhydonium storage facilities. Blaster cartridge production factories. All these and more were currently scattered across the world of Sleheyron, and all of them were under assault by the forces of Darth Strosius Darth Strosius . Apparently, the Sith Lord was enacting his vengeance upon the Hutts for the perceived slights they had committed against him, and in all honestly, his war on Sleheyron had little to do with Mahporeem, considering that the two factions had never met on the field of battle, not even during the Imperial Confederation's failed campaign against the Tion Star Cluster.

At least, that was until the Imperial Remnant had been contacted by the Hutts directly.

They had begged for any assistance they could get in defending their planet, as much as one could expect a Hutt to beg. Still, they were clearly desperate, and the Imperial Remnant saw an opportunity to secure for themselves a number of long term trading contracts, which would supply Mahporeem with as much fuel and ammunition as it could possibly want for the foreseeable future. Having need for suppliers for their own upcoming campaigns, the Imperial Remnant accepted the Hutt's offer, and dutifully went to Sleheyron to stave off Strosius's assault on the planet.

Scores of NCE-131/c Storks, Lambda B-TIE Gunship/Transports and Imperial U-Wings began landing en masse as squadrons of STX-TIEs and DS-50 TIE Fighters began attacking the freighters that Strosius had brought with him. In orbit above the planet, a single Mon Calamari Destroyer was currently engaging in combat with the Harbinger of Absolution, aiming to prevent the ship from doing any more damage to the planet than it already had while simultaneously providing coving for the plethora of landing ships attempting to reach the very surface of Sleheyron.

The MIN Night Reaver quickly followed suite as Ronhar and his men descended toward the chaos, ready to defend every factory on the planet from the Sith if need be. So far, the fighting was shaping up to be long and tedious, and Ronhar acknowledged to himself that he had quite a large amount of work to do...
 
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Tag: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius R'ayne Asara R'ayne Asara Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane

Renji did not like slavery.

This was ironic, considering his reflexive nature to manipulate people into giving up their self-determination and follow his orders instead, but to Renji that was fair game. He only made use of those whose minds were weak enough to accept his compulsion. If they couldn't even withstand the mental or pheromone suggestion of an apprentice... well, then it was fate.

"Master," He called out as his blade flicked up to absorb another blaster shot coming their way. "-I have not encountered many Lords of the Sith who despise slavery the way you do."

He reached out with his mind and forced one Gamorrean to second-guess his intent to cleave the Zeltron in front of him in half.

The hesitation was long enough for him to embed his alchemized blade in his eye and carve its way through his brain.

"I do not understand the ploy. Can you explain?"

In general he found that asking during a battle was the best way to draw knowledge away from the Sith Lords. They were so busy channeling their passions, that they had loose lips and looser tongues.
 
Lieutenant of Kor’ethyr Military Academy


The Unbinding
Tags: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius | Renji Renji | Open​

On loan as helpful muscle from the Holy Worlds, Naamino Zuukamano wore no colors of Korriban or Kor'ethyr, no markings which indicated his station or rank there, nor even his Master Elmindra Xitaar Elmindra Xitaar . The falleen had sent him away after Haro Aven Haro Aven 's betrayal and the subsequent fallout, after Naami's dawning realization it had all been a lie and his break from reality therein.

He wore only his chest plate for armor, and a mask to somewhat obscure the endless pain in his ice blue eyes. He was otherwise in street clothes: combat boots, cargo pants and a black poncho, now slung back over his shoulders. The man was a walking wound and he was dealing with it to only way he knew how: violence.

The Prophet's words rang out through the wartorn air, impassioned as ever, while Naami was about their grizzly business arming slaves and forming them up into loose platoons. He'd been deemed not currently fit to lead in his normal role… so this would have to do as he clawed and scraped his way back into the favor of his outraged master.

He hardly spoke as he armed former slaves and sent them into the fray, joining them as they pushed back defensive lines of slavers. But when he did, the mask he wore amplified his voice for the masses. His words were decidedly more cutting and brutal than the Lord's.

"Kill or die."

He cut through two men who dare interpose themselves between him and his path forward, the double bladed Zabhoka dripping with blood already.

"Savage them like the beasts they treated you as."

 

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