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!
--------------------------------------------

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 ~ gas gas gas
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[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

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."

 

Saram Kote

Strill Securities Al'verde

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Friendly Units:
Squad Mission Equipment




Hostile Tag(s): Naamino Zuukamano Naamino Zuukamano | Renji Renji | R'ayne Asara R'ayne Asara | Darth Strosius Darth Strosius

Friendly Tag(s): K'krohl K'krohl

Saram's Equipment




Saram didn't didn't like the Hutts. She hated the Dar'jetii more. She had seen too much of what their 'allies' in the Kainate had done on Dromund Kaas to let believe them about any of this osik they were spouting. They wanted to free slaves? Only when it suited them it seemed. She was going to find out what those slaves felt about their 'liberators' when they saw the truth of what was happening in Sith space seemingly unchecked.

They had bleeding edge comms on their gunship and beskar'gam, but the slaves didn't have much in the way of liberated comms gear. The best way to reach them all was to use the Hutts' public address holocomm, that way the Darjetii's crimes would be on all the holo-displays for all to see. The control center was their objective. Of course once the broadcast started, she couldn't imagine it would be too long till they had visitors.

It was time for her favorite method of insertion into hostile territory; a HALA jump. A tracker on her HUD tracked the gunship's altitude and distance from their target. "You know alor, they're just going to claim we made all this up," said Viraen.

"Seeing is believing, Vir'ika, Just need to plan the seed of doubt," she said, a smirk plastered on her features. "Besides, we win, Dar'jetii shabuire die, we lose, Hutt shabuire die. Either way, galaxy wins."

"That's...a pretty good point," he conceded after a moment's consideration. "Either way, we make these shabuire wish they hadn't come here, right?" she asked.

"Don't see why the shab not," she replied with a shrug. The battlenet synced route tracker on her HUD chimed as the gunship reached jump distance from the target. The cabin was bathed in a green light, replacing the grim red glow from moments earlier.

"We're over the target, oya manda, vode. Kill some for me," chimed Rav's voice over the intercom as the ramp lowered with a muffled hiss of hydraulics.

"You heard the woman," Saram reminded over the comms. Davaab moved into jump positions before she finished her sentence. The nav marker superimposed into her vision via her HUD grew ever closer. One by one, the rammikade of Davaab squad vanished into a green outline on her HUD before that outline ran and leapt off the ramp.

The eight of them fell through the air toward their objective; their fall arrested at the last minute by invisible wings of fire - sound dampened repulsors and TibannaX fueled thrusters. Eight Mandalorian rammikade landed on the roof of the building with the grace of a feather, weapons up. "Talk to me, Jaing, what do we have here?" she asked as she glanced at the tactical map on her HUD.

"I can jack into the feed from here," announced Jaing after inspecting the communications equipment on the roof. Jaing marked the access point for them to see. It was a maintenance access point, but Jaing seemed to think he could make do and she didn't know nearly enough to argue the point with him.

"Alright, vode, you heard him. Hutts ask and we remind them we're the ones putting rounds in the direction of their enemies," said Saram as Davaab spaced out around the access point, still hidden from view thanks to their armor's active stealth systems. "Jaing, upload the footage."

A progress bar appeared on her HUD. There was no alert, yet, nothing had been uploaded . Saram decided she would inform that kadtape shabuir of a Jedi of their progress. "We're on the ground and uploading the footage, Jedi. SITREP?"

 
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Tʜᴇ Sɪᴛʜ Mᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ Vᴀɴǫᴜɪsʜᴇᴅ

Sleheyron's air was thick with the taste of charred metal and old spices. Heat radiated off the scorched duracrete, baking the alleyways as K'krohl stood behind a rusted support pylon, his heavy cloak damp with sweat. Down in the market, the Order of Wonosa and the Imperial Remnant under the command of Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane were busy tearing the city apart.

He had no love for the Cartel, their slaving pits and cruelty were a stain on the galaxy but he was not here to watch a slaughter. He was here to stop the Sith's influence from spreading further as he thumbed the transmitter on his vambrace, keeping his voice short.

"Mandalorian. I'm moving on the Dark Lord. Secure that tower. Get the feed out." He didn't wait for Saram Kote Saram Kote confirmation, trusting that she could keep the transmissions tower secure in order to broadcast without interference. He broke cover, moving with some speed through the shadows in order to conceal his presence.

He reached the market hub, where the sound of combat was deafening. Ahead, a figure in a mask carved through guards with practiced, fluid strokes. Nearby, others herded terrified slaves toward the front lines. K'krohl stopped behind a stack of crates, eyes narrowing at the sight of his main target.

He drew a long breath, pulling the Force into his throat to constrict and distort his natural vocal chords. The sound seemed to punch through the noise of blasters and screams of the local population. ROOOOAAAAARRRR...RURURURK. He stepped out from behind the crates, his formidable frame blocking the light of a nearby fire. K'krohl snapped his head toward the Sith Lord, his tusks bared.

He clicked his teeth in a series of sharp, rapid patterns, mimicking the booming tone of a Bryn'adul pack signaling a fresh kill. He stood his ground, hands empty, letting his physical presence loom in the space between the burning ruins and the market hub. He did not reach for his lightsaber.

To pull a blade now would be to admit he was a Jedi, and the ruse relied on the Sith seeing only what he wanted them to see: a savage, feral threat that had no interest in lightsaber duels or Jedi philosophy. He banked on Darth Strosius Darth Strosius own arrogance to interpret the mimicry as a genuine danger to his vanguard, rather than a tactical deception.

 
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Darth Sycophantia, Queen of Hearts
VVVDHjr.png

scouring of chains ~ gas gas gas
VVVDHjr.png






[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

weapon ~ draconic scourge
outfit ~ attire
tag(s) allies ~ Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane / Open
tag(s) hostile ~ Saram Kote Saram Kote / Open
I watched the bloated Hutt in silence, the chamber around us drowning beneath a haze of incense and shadow. Ancient lamps burned with sickly amber light, their glow swallowed by towering statues whose faces had long ago eroded into expressions of unknowable malice.

The darkness seemed alive here, creeping across the walls like black veins beneath diseased flesh. I folded my hands within the sleeves of my robes and inclined my head slightly.
“Habba, you have much to gain here,” I said, my voice carrying through the cavernous hall like a funeral bell.

“Unlike your associates beyond these walls who now find themselves contending with Sith armies and Sith ambitions.” The Hutt's heavy eyes narrowed. A rumbling stream of Huttese spilled from his lips. Beside him, the protocol droid translated with mechanical precision.

“Great Habba asks: what is your offer, and what do you stand to gain from it?” A faint smile touched my lips. “Openly swear your allegiance to Darth Strosius Darth Strosius . In doing so, you will permit his forces access to your gas factories without fear of dismantling, without hostile seizure, without conquest. It will be a gesture of faith; proof to the other mighty Hutt clans that the Sith can be...reasonable.”

I paused, allowing the word to linger like poison in wine. “Sometimes. In return, I can assure you will receive a fair exchange, protection of your assets, and increased profits. And no rivals to contend with.”

The surprise that flickered across Habba's broad features was almost amusing. His massive tail twitched against the stone floor. “Do not play at being surprised,” I said before he could speak.

“I have done my homework on you, Habba, even before our original agreement. I know about the factories, the hidden accounts, the secret agreements, and the enemies you keep pretending not to have. I know everything worth knowing. The only thing left unknown is the choice you will make.”

Another growl of Huttese emerged from him, and the droid translated. “And what do you stand to gain, Sith?” I laughed softly. “Nothing of value appeals to me through this arrangement. But since you have opened that particular box of thought...a favor owed.”

Habba erupted into booming laughter that shook dust from the ancient ceiling. The droid waited for the noise to subside before speaking. “Great Habba says: coming from you, that is somehow worse. I agree in principle. But do not betray me, Lady Sycophantia.” My smile widened. Part truth. Part betrayal.

The first lesson when dealing with a Hutt was that treachery was not an exception, it was an unwritten understanding between all parties involved. The secret was simple, betray the Hutt before the Hutt betrayed you. And poor Habba did not yet realize he was already too late.


“Then I take my leave of you, great Habba,” I said, turning toward the vast doors of his estate. “An emissary shall be in touch soon.”

As the gates groaned open and the hot, furnace world beyond welcomed me once more, my thoughts had already abandoned the Hutt and moved toward the next matter upon my agenda, weaving plans within plans like strands of an endless web stretching into the hungry void between the stars.

 
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tags

Darth Strosius Darth Strosius Renji Renji K'krohl K'krohl



Christoph had been on this world of sin and debauchery for two weeks now. Volunteering from Bane's Blade Expeditionary Fleet's infiltration teams. For the last two weeks he had been on Special Operations, dressing in civilian clothing with his squad, scouting hard points, exfil locations, potential vectors of attack. Even going so far as to buy slaves from their masters in order to question them and use that information to ready for the arrival of their lord. Darth Strosius himself. All of it was work. Find the slave pens, make a few overseers disappear, cut a few throats. It all had to be done for his great arrival. To ensure critical success upon this disgusting planet.

What sickened him the most was the weakness on display. These Hutts. The living embodiment of sloth and gluttony, a slug and lessor life form was able to convince all these people with all their money and guns that "Yes, we should be in charge. In fact not only that. We should enslave those above us on the evolutionary ladder and force them to work for us until the day they die." It sickened Christoph to his core. The idea of working for these animals, much less being enslaved to one of them.

He almost pitied the slaves. It wasn't their fault they were born weak. It wasn't their fault that they had been enslaved by these freakish slugs. Yet Christoph could not truly bring himself to feel this intense crushing weight of pity for their circumstance for he would rather die fighting than allow himself to be taken by these debauched hedonistic lesser life forms that seemed to have a grip on this section of space. He would rather fall upon his own blade before he allowed himself to be a thrall for them, and he didn't understand why these people would not do the same. Perhaps they valued life more than he did.

When the attack came, his heart soared with pride and the righteousness of hate. The beautiful litanies of rage and hatred sung in his heart as he saw the slaves rise up against their disgusting masters. With his blaster rifle in hand. Christoph and his squad dawned the armbands of the Sith Empire and took to the field to join the advancing forces. Thats when he saw him. Darth Strosius himself giving a speech, bringing forth a wave of men to vanquish those beneath him. An avenging angel from the stars above wielding a blade of plasma and fist of vengeance.

Watching from cover, Christoph saw as his captain rushed forward to deliver the news to his liege. About enemy defenses, about where he and his team had laid explosive charges and traps for the enemy. He watched as his commander pushed forward and before the man could let off a word. He was hit by a blaster bolt. A blood curdling scream left his mouth briefly befor he went silent. Christoph’s heart skipped a beat. Lord Strosius needed to be informed. He needed to be told. Christoph dug down and began to sprint. He began to move through the unwashed masses. He was there with Strosius on the last mission. He was there when the Dark Councilor waved their authority and he never wavered in his faith.

As he approached the man he immediately took a knee to bow then spoke clearly and quickly. He was a busy man and Christoph was not worthy to speak to him.

"My Lord! Corporal Christoph of the Expeditionary Fleet! Explosives have been rigged along various defenses and strategic infrastructure of the Space Ports. By your word my lord Fireteam Malak shall detonate when told." He dared not look at him. Especially outside his armor. The face of a man with black war paint spread across his eyes and a look of both fear and adoration upon his face.

Christoph only wished to serve well.
 
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2g4vGZO_d.webp

Location: Sleheyron
Outfit: Bokken Jedi
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Tag: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius

Lily was not on the planet to defend the Hutts and their slavery.

That was an act that was beyond reprehensible and the slaves deserved their chance for freedom, but this violence. This Sith organised violent uprising left a sour note in her mouth. Something wasn't right about it all, especially since there were so many Sith that existed out in the galaxy that would be more than happy to just enslave these people themselves under the Sith oppressive rule. It was merely handing the whip from one master to a new one without even realising that such a thing was happening. Lily wanted to help these people but there had to be a better way to do it and there had to be a stance against the Sith storming their way across the galaxy and attempting to afflict everyone with the might is right mentality that they had.

When the fighting started, Lily had a hard time, she did not wish to harm the slaves, allowing them to pass or attempted to minimise the harm done to them as well as the harm they caused. Not all were slavers and not all were slaves in this city. Unfortunately violent uprises like this one didn't always distinguish that important distinction. So, Lily was there to ensure the innocent were protected. Lives were not unnecessarily harmed or lost because people were being used as pawns for a larger campaign. It was also important that Lily stood in opposition of the Sith. They were not allowed to gain a foothold here. Lily wouldn't give them that.

Instead, she operated from the stance that this rebellion should be happening but the Sith could not stay, Lily knew as soon as this rebellion was over then the Sith would start laying down their laws. Their oppression. And the people would be too weak, too dysfunctional from this to be able to resist the force that the Sith had brought here. They couldn't stay and Lily was going to make sure that they knew that they were not welcomed here. Starting with Strosius. She had to find a way to cut the snake at the head, hoping the rest would scatter when she had done that.

It wasn't easy to be here, to feel like she was doing the wrong thing. The Sith were using these slaves as a front and she knew that, she had to believe that. But there was no proof for it here and there was no way she alone could convince the locals that the Sith were going to be the ones that endangered their lives far more than the Hutts. All she could do is hope that there was a way to ensure the liberation was still a success but one that the Sith couldn't capitalise on.
 
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It hadn't taken long for news of the Hutts' plight to reach Helix's attention. True to form, it also hadn't taken long for him to emerge with the intent of making a bad situation worse.

A trio of assault landers snapped into existence dangerously close to the planet's surface, sending out a displacement shockwave that burst the windows of every building in a quarter-kilometer radius.

The arachnoid vessels touched down amidst the wartorn streets, assuming walker configuration and dropping their assault ramps with an earsplitting clang.

Helix loved these little power-grabs for several reasons. Mostly, they served as excellent distractions for a mass-pressganging. All sides would be far too focused on one another to bother with him, allowing ample time to pluck a few thousand screaming victims from the streets and get out before retaliation could be brought to bear. The lucky would be sent to Anoat to be worked to death in Darth Nefaron Darth Nefaron 's labor pits. The unlucky would go the Dzara's research facilities for other, darker purposes.

Nor was anyone exempt from the Privateers' attentions. Droids filed down from the ships, spilling into the streets and clearing a small landing zone. The droid-pirates respected no distinction between Hutt and Sith, nor between combatant and civilian. If it wasn't nailed down, it was destined for the holds.

The holodroid projectors on the landers' hulls then sprang to life, creating numerous solid-state holograms split into small fireteams. These began methodically sweeping the surrounding area for likely-looking plunder.

In less than a minute, operations had begun. With the impossible precision and coordination peculiar to Helix droids, a trickle of slaves, materials, and credits were already flowing back to this staging area. Helix observed the tally with the uninterested langour of one engaging in standard, rote procedure. Promising, but nothing compared to the scale of harvesting that would occur once the landing zone was fully secure, and the vehicles' collection-tendrils brought to bear on Sleheyron's populace in earnest.

Helix knew well that the shock and awe of the initial entry was a fleeting advantage. Fortunately, that mattered little. Should all go well, their presence here would be just as fleeting.

The warlord observed the proceedings from an elevated position atop the lead lander, visible and fearless. Let them run if they wished. The ones who ran tended to get the ugliest assignments when it came time to decide who was getting sent where.





 
Darth Sycophantia, Queen of Hearts
VVVDHjr.png

scouring of chains ~ gas gas gas
VVVDHjr.png






[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

weapon ~ draconic scourge
outfit ~ attire
tag(s) allies ~ Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane / Open
tag(s) hostile ~ Saram Kote Saram Kote / Open
The city sprawled before me like the rotting carcass of some ancient nightmare, its arteries choked with shattered speeders, burning masonry, and the corpses of those who had mistaken Hutt greed for permanence.

Blaster scars blackened every wall, artillery had peeled away entire districts until their bones of rusted durasteel lay exposed to the ash-filled sky, and the air itself tasted of scorched fuel, blood, and fear. I walked through the devastation without so much as slowing my stride, eyes never lingering upon the misery surrounding me.

The dead had completed their usefulness, the dying would soon join them, and the survivors were beneath the notice of one whose thoughts had already advanced several moves beyond this insignificant slaughter.

My purpose was singular, fixed with the immovable certainty of a celestial body caught within an endless orbit. Somewhere ahead, hidden behind gilded walls and guarded beneath the pretense of hospitality, waited a Muun whose mind possessed an intimate understanding of the Hutts' commercial arteries, illicit exchanges, and invisible networks of influence; more in point, these gas producing facilities.

So indispensable had his knowledge become that the Hutts, in one of their characteristic displays of paranoid pragmatism, had collectively agreed to keep the male "under guard for his own safety" within the palace of Shibba the Hutt.

Their attempt at protection merely spared me the inconvenience of searching. And this Munn would prove most useful to Darth Strosius Darth Strosius , if the Lord was wise enough to exploit this Munn's talents.

When the sprawling silhouette of Shibba's palace finally emerged through the smoke, I found not tranquility but glorious disorder. Sith warriors and soldiers had already descended upon the fortress like carrion stars falling from a dying heaven.

I watched the siege unfold with detached amusement, the corners of my lips curling beneath my hood. What another might have cursed as unfortunate timing, I recognized as providence wrapped in violence.

Every mercenary focused upon the Sith assault was another pair of eyes turned away from the shadows I favored, every collapsing barricade another forgotten avenue into the palace's labyrinthine interior. Chaos was never an obstacle; it was the veil beneath which I performed my finest work.

While armies sought conquest and Hutts fought desperately for survival, I intended only to claim the prize hidden at the heart of their crumbling sanctuary before either side understood it had ever been taken.
 

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Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Renji Renji / Naamino Zuukamano Naamino Zuukamano / Saram Kote Saram Kote / K'krohl K'krohl / Christoph Kudmol Voytger Christoph Kudmol Voytger / Lily Decoria Lily Decoria / Helix Helix / Open!
--------------------------------------------

"Then you haven't encountered many proper Lords of the Sith at all, young one." The masked man called over to the Zeltron as they both cleaved a path forwards. A bold statement to be sure but one that had to be said, both for His own pride and for the crowd at their back to hear. Of course it wasn't often at all that the Sith were breaking up a slaving operation rather than profiting from it, a disgusting habit that He intended to eliminate. One life at a time if need be.

"Slavery is an abhorrent sin that we Sith should have long since rid the galaxy of. We're here to make up for lost time." While there was no shortage of conviction in His words, when the younger Sith drew closer He did speak one more addition under His breath so that the masses couldn't hear. "Organized criminals are a threat to Sith authority and order. The Black Sun's rise and collapse weren't unprecedented at all, but their successor could prove more successful. I don't intend for there to ever be such a successor to threaten our reign in either the Core or behind the Blackwall."

Practicality and necessity always tempered idealism, were it not for the politics of the Sith at large then this whole affair would have been done far sooner. Yet with the aid of the Zeltron and Acolyte Zuukamano He was more than confident that Sleheyron's long awaited liberation would prove successful this day. It wasn't often that He was able to enjoy the company of like-minded, or at least willingly participating, Sith in such matters after all. What chance did the Hutts possibly stand against the Dark Side's own warriors?

Darth Strosius's presence at the vanguard of the newly liberated mob seemed to attract attention from their foes and well as His few allies however.

A roar broke through the din of combat and for a moment He was almost concerned that some great beast like a Rancor had been loosed into the market against them. It was nothing that couldn't be handled admittedly but some such creature would prove quite the headache and could injure or slaughter quite a few of the freed slave militia before it was put down. His dark visor didn't find any such beast however, instead landing on a Whiphid of all things emerging from behind some crates.

Unarmed yet defiant all the same, how curious. His senses implied that there was some trap or threat to be had, especially given how the interloper had positioned himself right in His path. There was another presence in the back of His mind as well, a Jedi that He'd faced before, but He wasn't certain where she was as of yet. The true struggle of His revolt was about to be reared against them it seemed, as ever the Jedi arrayed themselves against the liberation of the Outer Rim.

No matter, He marched with the righteous might of a whole planet at His back and they couldn't even rely on the Core for support anymore. A fanged smirk crept onto His face at the thought of stringing up the heretics alongside the Hutts once this was all said and done, to see the scum of the galaxy side by side in death as they were in life. A fitting fate. His musings were cut short by the sight of a soldier dying by His side, His visored gaze snapping to regard the body. Not one that He immediately recognized but they were definitely from the Order, He'd ensure their kin were informed.

To His surprise a Corporal from what must have been the same unit came to occupy the fallen Captain's place, dropping to a kneel and earning a whispered curse from the masked man as a result. "Arise Corporal, now is not the time for decorum! We have a war to win." Ideally without sabotaging the spaceports, but having the option was always helpful. The sounds of ships soaring overhead drew His attention skyward, where a flurry of activity had suddenly erupted in the skies.

Ships were landing, bearing troops that seemed just as intent on slaying the Hutts as they were His own forces. Perhaps the Jedi had brought some Imperial assistance ( Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane ) after all. Inconvenient but not unsalvageable. "Give Fireteam Malak the order, deny the interlopers every inch of ground you can." His free hand reached up to tap on His helmet's commlink. " R'ayne Asara R'ayne Asara we have a change of plans. Could you occupy our 'guests' while I finish up here?"

Darth Strosius looked down the street to the Whiphid and whatever might lay beyond him. He would ensure that Sleheyron got the freedom that it deserved and then it would aid its neighbors in avenging the sins of the Hutts. He brought His crimson blade to bear and kept marching forwards, nothing was going to stand in His way now.

 
Tʜᴇ Sɪᴛʜ Mᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ Vᴀɴǫᴜɪsʜᴇᴅ

K'krohl stepped out from the safety of the alley and into the main path of the advancing vanguard, standing firm as Darth Strosius Darth Strosius 's red blade moved forward, ready to end this confrontation before it even started. The trick had succeeded, as the Sith only perceived a beast. He would continue to see a beast until the very last moment, and by then, it would be too late to change anything.

K'krohl allowed the Force to flow through him, drawing it in slowly and deeply, just as old Tul'kar had taught him many years ago on Ansion, when his tusks were shorter and his temper was longer. He focused on the slaves being driven like nerfs toward the battle lines. He thought of nothing else, certainly not the very real possibility that his bones could turn to ash on this street before sunset.

He moved forward with that determination in his eyes, curling his hand around the hilt of his single bladed lightsaber and activating the button. The green blade flared to life with a soft roar, as he settled into a two-handed grip to take advantage of his species' natural strength in combat.

"Make peace with the force, Dark Lord." He said with a firm growl before picking up the pace, moving smoothly to engage the front of the vanguard didn't even have time to raise a blaster before K'krohl shifted his weight, his heavy boots biting into the grit of the marketplace.

Upon reaching Strosius, he did not aim for the Sith's blade but for his opponent's center, bringing the lightsaber down in a devastating overhead arc, utilizing the full, daunting power of his strong shoulders and muscular build behind the swing, then shifted into an assertive Juyo style to keep up the pressure.


 
It happened so fast. The snap hiss of a lightsaber. A man who moved forward to kill. Christoph saw it. In this moment he could see as a blade suddenly came down upon his master. Everything screamed in him to do what must be done. To take that hit. To make sure that you will die for what you believe in.

When the words "Make peace with the force Dark Lord." Christoph jumped.

He moved upwards. Rising from his stance. The blade caught his shoulder and dug into him. It carved deep. Into his collar bone and into his right lung. Blood vessels exploded with heat and pressure as Christoph vomited blood onto his Lord's shoulder.

There was a gasp of air as Christoph tried to inhale what air he could. His body was unresponsive. He looked at his liege. He looked at his lord and knew this was a good death. This was what he wanted. Strosius could carry on. He would keep fighting. It was all shutting down now, his body.

"Forgive me." that was all Christoph said as he fell to the ground. Split across his side.

All but dead.

K'krohl K'krohl Darth Strosius Darth Strosius R'ayne Asara R'ayne Asara Lily Decoria Lily Decoria Saram Kote Saram Kote Naamino Zuukamano Naamino Zuukamano Renji Renji
 
Darth Sycophantia, Queen of Hearts
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scouring of chains ~ gas gas gas
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[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

weapon ~ draconic scourge
outfit ~ attire
tag(s) allies ~ Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane / Open
tag(s) hostile ~ K'krohl K'krohl

I wrenched my dark mahogany blade free from the Gamorrean's collapsing carcass, and the brute struck the dust outside Shibba the Hutt's palace with the dull finality of sacrificial meat cast before an altar older than memory.

The Force quivered with the fading echoes of his terror, each heartbeat dissolving into the great starving silence that forever prowled beneath reality. Then the comlink fastened to my wrist released a sharp metallic chirp. Darth Strosius Darth Strosius voice emerged through the static, calm despite the scent of gathering violence.

{"We have a change of plans. Could you occupy our 'guests' while I finish up here?"}

My gaze lifted from the dead piggy abomination to the horizon, where the skies themselves seemed to fracture beneath descending silhouettes. Unfamiliar vessels pierced the cloud cover like iron carrion birds, their engines growling with intentions I did not yet recognize.

Hostile...perhaps.

Curious...certainly.

A slow grin crept across my lips as I thumbed the comlink.
"Naturally," I purred. "I shall put on my very best manners." With a hiss that sounded almost disappointed, my lightsaber withdrew into silence, the blade folding back into its hilt as though the darkness itself had merely blinked.

I advanced toward the landing grounds, gathering Sith soldiers from Shibba's outer courtyards, watch posts, and shadowed ambush positions until a small column of armored devotees marched behind me with disciplined hunger.

The Force curled around us like burial incense as the unknown crafts settled upon the scarred planet, throwing storms of debris and destruction across the landing platforms. Through the haze I caught the unmistakable Imperial insignias emblazoned across their hulls, yet the figures disembarking wore neither the bearing nor the discipline of Imperials.

Their movements reeked of greed rather than order, of opportunists masquerading beneath stolen authority. A slaver militia? How delightfully insulting. My eyes narrowed into scarlet slits as I regarded the intruders, sensing the invisible stain of chains long before I saw them.

Without breaking stride, I spoke to the soldiers following in my wake, my voice carrying with the icy certainty of a Sith decree.
"You have your orders. No prisoners. Let their screams be the only tribute these counterfeit Imperials leave upon this world."

And from behind the initial wave of faux Imperials, hovering like vultures in the bruised sky, more Imperial ships ( Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane ) seemed destined and poised to join the fray.

 

Saram Kote

Strill Securities Al'verde

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Friendly Units:
Squad Mission Equipment




Hostile Tag(s): Naamino Zuukamano Naamino Zuukamano | Renji Renji | R'ayne Asara R'ayne Asara | Darth Strosius Darth Strosius

Friendly Tag(s): K'krohl K'krohl

Neutral Tag(s): Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane

Saram's Equipment




"Upload's done, starting the broadcast now, I'll set it to loop," announced Jaing away at his gauntlet computer's interface. "We're going to need to keep this building intact for as long as possible. No point in sticking around once they blow it to haran."

"You heard the man, Davaab, we hold as long as we can," reminded Saram over buy'ce-to-buy'ce laser comms. Nearly impossible to detect or intercept. The effects were immediate, on every holoscreen in the city usually used to broadcast some self-aggrandizing, self-narrated video of whatever Hutt was in charge was instead displaying the condition that the Sith had their slaves in. "Patch me in Jaing," added Saram.

"I don't know how much it'll help," he remarked before an icon appeared on her HUD indicating that she was connected.

"People of Sleheyron, this are the conditions of Kainate slaves on Dromund Kaas. Your liberators are happily allied with the Kainate, or in the very least turning a blind eye. What makes you think they care about your fate? You're being used as a means to an end. Wake. Up," she said, ending the recording a moment later.

"Nice speech," remarked Ran. "Saram Kote for Kote clan leader?" he joked. Saram had no intention of doing any such thing. The amount of paperwork she had as the woman in charge of Strill Special Operations was bad enough. She had no intention of taking on any more responsibilities, much less diving head first into clan politics.

"Not if I can shabla help it," she scoffed. "In fact, if I do, shoot me, I'll thank you from the Manda," she added, half-joking. Ran laughed, loud and hearty. They all awaited what they were sure was to be a quick and merciless Sith response. Too shabla bad for the Sith that just wasn't likely to be good enough.

 

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