Campaign Shadow Over the Rim: Eos

[Darth Strosius]

​

For a rather temperamental world on the surface, the Eos System was fairly tranquil and uneventful for the most part. Trade stations hung in orbit, visited by and sending off freighters in a lazy yet steady rhythm of commercial traffic. A handful of defensive satellites were scattered around to ward off pirates from harassing the trade ships and the stations, as well as to protect the main investment of the companies mining the world. A large communications array, mostly meant to advertise the minerals mined from Eos and the companies themselves, sits at the center of the activity in orbit.

Normally it simply broadcasts corporate commercials, advertisements, and the occasional ancient sitcom rerun or the odd third party holonet talk show, but its broadcasts have suddenly changed their tune. A distress signal calling for aid from neighboring mercenaries and bounty hunters briefly went out before suddenly being replaced by an entirely new segment of broadcasts courtesy of the Xinklas feed. The brief signal was accompanied by a grainy security video of an oddly ornamented star destroyer emerging from hyperspace into the system, at the head of what could best be described as an invasion fleet of sorts.

With the Order of Wonosa broadcasting their propaganda and holy messages from Eos, the culprits of the attack can't be more clear. What remains to be seen however, is the response.

Objective 1: Too Hot to Handle
Given the volcanic nature of Eos, thermal shielding and proper equipment to combat the heat are essential just for staying planetside for any period of time. To this end, the companies exploiting Eos have their various mining sites, supply depots, as well as what scarce residential centers exist on the world protected by a sophisticated network of large thermal shields which are all linked and controlled by one central power station. A station which is currently under siege by scores of Hssiss gunships and their payloads of Legionnaires.

Controlling the shield network would largely mean controlling the planet, which is why the Wonosan's Prophet Darth Strosius Himself is leading the attack to claim it. Local mercenary forces, security droids, and what few brave workers have managed to armed themselves are desperately fighting back but have already been forced to abandon the external landing pads due to overwhelming enemy forces. Time is ticking for Eos so long as the forces of Darth Strosius march to claim the power station.

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Mining on a world such as Eos requires extensive equipment, information, and plenty of heavy machinery and vehicles. All of which do not come cheap at all, as one might expect. One of the main stockpiles for this equipment and machinery has come under assault from the Legionnaires of Wonosa, but the workers have decided to spoil their prize. Already almost a quarter of the thermal shielded mining equipment and more than a few of the heavy vehicles and drills have been tossed into the nearby molten river in order to deny them to the invaders.

Even if their control over Eos is uncontested, losing this much equipment and machinery would set back Wonosan mining operations for weeks if not months until they are fully replaced. Additionally some of the more fiscally minded workers and corporate representatives have begun collecting what they can of the equipment aboard cargo shuttles, as an alternative to simply destroying all the investments. The Legionnaires will not allow these valuable assets to be scrapped but the locals won't simply let their gear be taken without a fight.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Too Hot to Handle
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Open to all!
--------------------------------------------

The exterior of the main Eos thermal shield network station was a chaotic mess of shouting and blaster fire, interspersed with the drone of Hssiss gunships soaring overhead either to drop off soldiers or to provide covering fire for the ones they just left. Legionnaires ran for nearby metal awnings and crates for cover from the firefight that currently encompassed the landing pads around the station's main loading bay, lines of security droids providing suppressive fire as the last of the mercenaries and workers rushed inside.

Thankfully for the arriving Legionnaires, most of the attention was held by their leader rather than themselves. Darth Strosius had made Himself the main target of the defenders since the moment the first gunships approached the station, having leapt out of the one carrying Him in order to cleave one of the mercenaries guarding the station in half. Since then and even now He had been cutting a swathe through the defenders, first through what brave workers stood against Him and now into the droids which had stayed too far from their retreating comrades.

Blaster bolts sank into His robes with little effect and deflected off of His lightsaber in equal measure as He tore the head from one of the droids, letting the scrap in His hand fall to the ground as He resumed His march towards the main entrance. "Push forward! They're pulling back inside and we can't let them close the blast doors on us!"

 

[Delsin Shaw]

|| Objective I: Too Hot to Handle ||
|| Equipment: Armor | Sword | Ring | Mask ||
|| Tags: Darth Strosius ||​

There comes a time when helping fellow Sith was more important than putting my own agenda ahead of them. If not only to aid them in procuring tools for themselves to better equipped to be allies, but also to network. In passing I have met with the Sith Lord of this Prophet. A man who led the Order of Wonosan persuasion. It was interesting to see an entire order formed around that of the religious aspects of following a singular prophet. What exactly was it that beholden such beings to one person. Their strength in persuasive usage, and even emitting the holy order propaganda machine down upon the planet of Eos.

Having been dropped off in the first wave of fighters by one of the Gunships, it was unique to be able to work in their presence. Interesting to say the least. Many prayed or chanted something before being dropped off into combat. Even if before their feet hit the ground, they had taken a shot to the dome or the chest. Uniquely fierce in their stance to fight with the Sith Lord. What likely helped was to see the Sith Lord on the front lines as well.

Drawing my blade from the body of a soldier, its edge coated in viscera. Whipping it to the side, it knocked what I could off of it before bringing it up to my elbow. Using the cloth of the armor to wipe away the blade before turning to hear the sound of Darth Strosius proclaiming to move onward. To push the line forward. They were attempting to close any form of blast doors to prevent the soldiers from getting in.

Uniquely, I was likely the best for this.

"Looks like its time to dive into the fire."

Muttering the words to myself. All before centering my mind upon the force. Focusing the pain and fear around me. Feeling its flowing power as soldiers fought. Drawing my blade down, I crouched low before releasing the power held within. A single bolt of Lightning raced across the field. Slamming directly into a soldier who was running through the blast doors. He was sent flying down onto his face. It took a moment, but moving so fast ahead of the others, put me in a position of the main threat right at their door. Blasters were thrown up and aimed at me. A smile hiding behind the mask. A chuckle as the bolts were released.

Another flash of red and blue erupted from the door. Lancing back and forth between soldiers. A blink to see a web formation of light flashing though all of them before the four of them fell to the ground with cuts through their forms. Slicing through elbows, knees, and even necks that were not protected by armor.

"I got more incoming Darth Strosius, I recommend haste."

The words were smooth and calm before others from within started to come out. My left hand flicked to the side. The helmet of one of the soldiers slammed into the panel sending it to be broken. stopping it for the time being. I am sure a panel somewhere else could turn it back on, but it would take some time.

In that moment, the blade was brought up with a hail of fire erupting from within the darkness. The Rotary cannon spun up and fired with little time to waste. Leaping up to the ceiling, My off hand and feet latched onto the surface before lancing down with another bolt of red and blue light. Deeper into the shadows to strike cleanly through him. His body bisected at the waist.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

|| Objective II: Scorched Earth ||
|| Equipment: Armor | Sword | Dagger | Arm | Drugs ||
|| Tag: Open || ​

The Mining operations were causing some major problems. With my skills in stealth, I had been tasked by Darth Strosius to seek a way to get within the confines of the mining operations, and to put an end to what this threat was. Already they were trying to destroy or smuggle off equipment so that it would be extremely difficult for the Wonosan Order to recuperate the losses. Breathing in as I rubbed my neck with my fleshy hand, feeling its warmth against the back of my neck.

The Gunship was racing across the fields. Staying low out of any possible Anti-Air weaponry, but also to stay off of sensor detection. A fast moving ship low enough would literally fly under their radar and sensor equipment. Drawing closer and closer to the facilities, I reached down into my pocket and produced a syringe. Automatic one. Placing it against my neck, I felt the bite of the needle as it pierced into my skin. Mere seconds later, I could feel the endorphins rushing through my body.

A deep sigh escaped.

Drawn from unknown. My vision hazy but bright. Feeling almost light headed for a moment with the rush. Vision clearing just a bit. Already, I could feel my hunger grow. My teeth poking at my lips as if they wanted to be set loose upon them. My eyes darted about the vessel then back outside. Watching the world race by in slow motion. It would be so easy to feed off of one of the legionnaires, but then my master would find that apprehensible for doing so openly. My arm came up to slap me across the side of the face. Feeling hardly a sting as the meds were really kicking in now.

"Hahaha! Come on boys! Lets get these fackers!"

My voice yelling truly over the com system before we came to a slow down over the top of the facility. High enough that they had to repel, but I just leapt off. landing hard onto the roof of the building with no worse for the wear. The blade drawn out of what seemed to be thin air. Its energy crackling before my form faded into nothing. A shadow in broad daylight.

While the soldiers may have thought I was gone, I could hear one of them speak audibly.

"I swear, she creeps me out with that. Vanishing in thin air?"
"I can hear you Soldier!"
"Yes Ma'am!"

Without waiting I could hear the fear in his voice. A chuckle escaped loudly before I raced along the roof. Headed to make my own way into the building while the legionnaires were acting on the other end. A Pincer Attack so they could draw attention for me to get deeper in and stop this from continuing. They shall pay their insolence in blood.

Blood I shall feast upon.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

OBJECTIVE: SCORCHED EARTH

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: CRUSH THE ORDER OF WONOSA

DIRECT TAGS: Veradun Sharr

INDIRECT TAGS: Darth Strosius Delsin Shaw , Helix , Lúthien Tinúviel , Open

To think, Nefaron once saw Darth Strosius as a potential ally.

But the time had come to dispense with the heretical Order of Wonosa, this pathetic world being but the first strike in a campaign long in the planning.

And Veradun?

Veradun would deliver the first blow.
​

"We remain undetected, Master. The Harbinger of Absolution and its support fleet have not reacted to our presence."

"Perhaps they believe us to be allies?"

The Dark Lord stood before the viewport, looking out upon the vast fiery world below. He had arrived aboard one of the newest ships to join his fleet, the first of the Orthanc-Class Frigates built by the mechanical genius who now occupied the other major world in the Anaot system. They had been united for the purpose of enslaving the galaxy to the will of the Dark Side, or at the very least to ensure an endless stream of subjects for their nefarious will. While no match for the firepower of the Wonosa fleet, the half dozen ships and accompanying bulk transports contained more than enough soldiers and creatures from the Corpse Legion to provide quite the challenge to the famed Legionaries in service of Darth Strosius.

Yet Nefaron would not confront him directly. That was not why he had come.

Anoat was a hungry beast that needed more equipment, more raw materials, and more slaves to continue growing Darth Nefaron's power, and Eos had all in abundance. The Corpse Lord would join the assault on the stockpile, but he would not come as an ally. He would cut down all who stood in his way and take from his rival all he sought to gain. But that left Veradun, the Dark Lord's first Apprentice, without an objective. He was soon to learn why he had been taken to face his old High Prophet.

"My Apprentice, the time has come to once and for all prove that you serve but one being in this galaxy. I am dispatching you with half of our forces to harass the Order of Wonosa's assault on the thermal shield network. Kill all who dare to challenge you, but do not be so foolish as to attempt to face Darth Strosious in battle. I have no doubt you will one day prove to be far stronger than he ever was, but you are still but a mere Apprentice."

Nefaron turned to his Apprentice, a hand rising to rest on his shoulder.

"You have been well trained. The abilities you have gained over these past months will be more than a match for the servants of the false prophet. You will not have true victory this day, but slaughter all that you can and destroy what might fall into our rivals' hands."

The Corpse Lord grew serious, leaning in slightly and delivering what might amount to a threat under different circumstances.

"You have my faith, Veradun. But I have yet to present a test of such enormity to you. I will be watching over you, Apprentice, to ensure you do not stumble on the path you have taken. Remember that."

The Dark Lord held his gaze for a few moments more before turning his attention back to the viewport.

"Go, Apprentice. Begin your attack. I will launch my assault on the depot the moment you engage our foe."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Equipment: Lightsaber, Alchemized Mace, Armor​

The drop ship roared through the skies, tearing through its atmospheric clouds. Inside the vessel turbulence jolted the ship as the sounds of battle possessed the landscape below. Varin sat calmly, running his thumb over each individual bead of bone that ornate his rosary. Each bead a silent prayer for the battle to come. A prayer for ferocity, blood lust and finally a prayer for victory. Be it Bogan’s will, the legionnaires will take this planet.

The mission debrief echoed into the ship as he finished up a very detailed drawing on his datapad. A drawing of a sith pureblood lady he had grown closer to.

“Varin! Are you listening?!”

Varin growled to himself as he powered down the datapad and stowed it on his person.

“Kind of hard not to.”

His response was subtle and quiet.

“Lord Strosius was very clear in what he needs us to do. We are to get to any research terminals and download any data on the ore. Anything from prices to rarity hell even pictures. As much information as we can muster, failure is not an option.”

The debriefing was summarized to Varin now listening ear as he sat back laying his head on the headrest of his seat.

“Sounds simple enough, I suppose.”

From deep within his subconscious a deep growl rumbled from within. Hunger surged through his body, and a deep voice rumbled from within Ignati.

Smell that air boy…We were made to fight on this kind of planet. Think of the carnage we can muster.

Ignati licked his teeth greedily, savoring the thought of what's to come.

The drop ship began to slow as every legionnaire unfastened themselves grabbing their weapons and readying themselves. Varin sat up with his heavy hilt in his hand and his heavier mace on his back. A near emotionless face was his mask of flesh as he readied for the ramp to open.

As soon as the opening was large enough they were all met with blaster fire. Varin at the forefront twisted his saber hilt igniting its maroon blade and started work on deflecting bolts as the Legionnaires returned fire. The young apprentice reached his other hand out causing some of the enemy's rifles to begin glowing from overheating. With simultaneous explosions their weapons began to burst into scrap as he leapt from the ship with his mace in hand, slamming it down with a wet crunch on top of one of the workers. He stood towering over the other workers as his eyes began to flare like an inferno, a cruel smile upon his lips. Each heavy swing of his mace and saber cut and crushed several men as their blaster bolts did little effect to Varin’s armor.

As one worker was running away Varin reached out with the force, crushing his shins before he could reach cover. A scream left the body as Varin began to pull him closer, grabbing him by the throat and holding him up.

“You may be able to help me. Give me the information I need and I will stop the pain. Refuse, and I will get more…creative.”

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

​

The black rope descended down from the gunship like an extension of his own limbs. Halfway down, calculating, he released, dropping into a perfect crouch. The planet beneath his boots stirred with familiarity. Fiery hues and shattered terrain, all reminiscent of Mustafar, etched into his memory like scars from a lover's embrace.

Obsidian armor devoured the light around him, masking his truest form in darkness. The helmet was cast aside, revealing alabaster skin and angular features. Elongated canines flashed in a snarl as his orbs scanned the chaos ahead. Every sound, from the clash of metal to the cries of battle, were cataloged in his mind. The scent of blood and death filled the air, a dangerous and intoxicating aroma that stirred a wild, feral awakening within his hollow shell.

A predator's hunger for the hunt thrummed through his entire being.

For an instant, he'd been found lurking just beyond the front lines, for this was where fear tended to radiate the strongest. And it was here, where he fed on their desperation, the ripples of dread, an exquisite flavor he was intimately familiar with. Today, he'd partly been here to support the Legionnaire, but the metallic tang, and smoke clung stubbornly to his nostrils, like a dark perfume.

Iron coated Kasir's tongue, a constant reminder, a palate forever soaked in war. His sight, perfectly attuned to low light, caught movements far before any spoken word could grace the air.

Feeling nothing but detachment, he knew each enemy slain was merely a transaction towards greater power, a kind of hunger that went far beyond bloodlust. This euphoria, a clinical indulgence, left no room for mercy.

He sensed the apprentice near, a presence as undeniable as his own breath, even if his gaze did not currently seek her out. His confidence in her grew with each mission, a source of growing pride, though doubt had never stemmed from lack of skill, but from the difficulty in loosening any tie of control over the girl.

A dark tendril, woven into a telepathic link, was directed to Soah.

<<No one leaves. Not today.>>

Without waiting for a response, he moved towards one of the overcrowded evacuation hangars, his speed a blistering blur. Inside, there were half loaded shuttles and crazed workers alike, shouting in comms, and even droids scrambling about.

A molten river hissed; Kasir knew from his own home, that this was a warning.

He slipped in unnoticed, no saber ignited, never one to make a grand announcement. Instead, there was the cruel gleam of his infamous ceremonial blade, sleek as a vibrodagger, beautiful in its simplicity.

Like a wisp of smoke, the Sangnir Darkseeker pressed forward. A launch sequence faltered, a worker's curse cracking through the chaos. He felt the worker's fear, cherishing it equally as he did his secret Kainite blood slave's terror, nestled deep within Wonosa's hidden enclave.

At last, he stepped forward.

“You should’ve left them to burn.”

A single sentence carried the only words he'd uttered all day.

The blade slid across the worker’s throat before a scream could tear free, blood spilling like ink across the floor. He didn't linger, withdrawing right away, ready to sabotage by any means necessary.

The intent was clear.

This hangar would become a tomb.

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Objective One
Mission: Kill the Wonosans
Gear: Armor, Lightsaber

Tags: Darth Nefaron // Darth Strosius // Delsin Shaw
Others: Kasir Dorran // Varin Mortifer // Lúthien Tinúviel ​

Veradun stood still and silent beside the one he called Master, staring out the viewport of a new ship to the scene before him: a planet called Eos, under siege by the Order of Wonosa. It had been a long time since he’d seen or been anywhere near the Wonosan fleet, around his former familial allegiance. Nefaron had worked hard to purge whatever ties Veradun had to his past, he had done much to poison his Apprentice against those of his past…against his family. Strosius…his sister…the Wonosan Order itself. He had constantly tested the young Sith on his loyalty, his allegiance - poked and prodded to see if the former Wonosan would remain loyal.

But all those prior tests paled in comparison to what lay before the former Nagai now - what was demanded of him.

This…was to be a great proving point in Veradun’s position as Nefaron’s Sith Apprentice. Would he remain faithful and loyal, as he said he was…even when faced with the orders to kill those he’d once been allies with? Truthfully, there was really only one being in the entire galaxy that had Veradun’s loyalty…and it wasn’t the Corpse Lord that was standing next to him, though of course the young Sith would do everything to ensure his Master continued to believe he was utterly loyal.

Even if it meant betraying those he once held dear, and turning former allies into enemies.

Veradun would obey his Master. He had to…for now.

The Dark Lord turned to regard his Apprentice, resting a withered hand upon the young Sangnir’s shoulder as he pressed home his wishes to the former Nagai - while also giving him a clear warning.

Pale blue eyes that now held a brighter, predatorial shine to them shifted then - the only movement Veradun had made in a long time. He glanced at the ruined face of his Master - a sight that had once disturbed and disgusted him, but one he had now grown accustomed to. Master and Apprentice held each other’s gazes for a moment as silent understanding passed between them, before the pale youth was dismissed to begin his task.

“Your will be done, my Master.” he said in his soft but icy cold voice, before he turned on his heel and strode from the ship's bridge.

​

As ordered, Veradun - wearing the Wonosan Sith plate his Master had acquired for him some time prior - took roughly half of Nefaron’s forces with him to assault the Wonosans as they laid siege to the thermal shield network. There was a surprising lack of hostility between Nefaron’s forces and Darth Strosius’s forces, but Veradun knew that would change the moment that he turned against them. They hardly batted an eyelash as Veradun strode forth from the ship he had rode in on, along with dozens of the Corpse Soldiers. They must have believed that Nefaron was there to aid Darth Strosius.

Once upon a time, Veradun might have felt guilt rip at him for turning against his own people. But he was no longer a being capable of guilt…only hunger. It clawed at every part of him, and deepened the moment he stepped foot upon the battlefield where death practically choked the air with its metallic tang. Behind the visor of his helm, hidden from the sight of all others…blue eyes shined brighter still, and began to glimmer golden.

He would try to stave off his hunger, the driving need to feed upon those that were around him.

...If only to preserve the bond he had to his Blood Brother.

He knew that Kasir still served the Wonosans, faithfully. He wasn’t quite sure how his Brother might feel if he caught wind that Veradun had fed upon his siblings in faith. Attacking them, killing them, would be enough damage as it was. Though he had warned his Brother that when they inevitably did meet again…it would be as foes.

All to keep up the ruse, the deception, being played against Nefaron.

It was difficult, but the still newly Turned Sangnir managed to pull himself together and focus on the task at hand. If he truly needed to feed, then there were plenty of other options around that were not the Wonosans. The miners and mercenaries who were mounting a defense against the Wonosan forces could provide what he needed. So long as he followed his Master’s orders, then he doubted Nefaron would truly care if he ripped the throats out of a few of Eos’s workers to satiate his hunger.

They were destined for a different fate anyway.

Forgive me, my Brother…

It was a silent, mournful thought as Veradun slipped into the ranks of the Wonosan Legionnaires, the lightsaber hilt that his Master had given him just months prior, slipping into his dominant hand. In the next instant, the crimson blade had been ignited - and the Apprentice of Darth Nefaron began to cut into the forces of Darth Strosius without mercy. Immediately after he had begun cutting through the first couple of Legionnaires, the Corpse Soldiers that had been with him began to open fire into the backs of the Wonosans with their ranged weapons, while others rushed in with blades or other weapons - eager for the slaughter.

His surprise attack, his betrayal, was met with shock…surprise. A wave of confusion and panic began to spread forth like a fire. He knew his Master was watching and much to Veradun’s own surprise…he felt nothing as he began to kill those he once called his allies, his family.

Well, nothing that was…except for the hunger that now dominated his existence.

 

[Revna Marr]

Objective 1
Mission: Help the Wonosans Take the Station!
Gear: Armor, Sith robe/cloak, Lightsaber
Direct Tag: Darth Strosius
Others: Delsin Shaw // Varin Mortifer // Darth Nefaron // Kasir Dorran // Lúthien Tinúviel // Veradun Sharr

​

It had been a long time since Revna had last been able to join her Master on one of His missions, His campaigns, within the Outer Rim. Much planning had gone into this next phase of the Prophet’s ambitions, and several worlds had been selected for further scrutiny by the infamous Order of Wonosa. One such world was a volcanic planet rich in resources with a profitable mining and trading operation. It was a prime target to further bolster her Master’s forces - one to help fuel the ever turning wheels of His war machine.

Now that she was mostly recovered from the events of her rescue from Kainite hands, and from the energy she had expended during the most recent invasion launched against the Holy Worlds by The Imperial Confederation, Revna found herself once again facing combat. But she was not alone, this time. She had recruited her Sith Apprentice, Varin, to aid her and Darth Strosius…and of course, her brother in faith, Kasir…was there, having emerged from whatever shadowy domain he resided in.

And this time, she was not fighting alongside her Master as a fresh Acolyte - but as His newly anointed daughter, and as a trained and blooded Sith of the Order. She felt immense pride swell within her heart, knowing that she was once again fighting alongside her Family, and serving her Father to further His ambitions and goals.

She was always in awe whenever she watched the Sith Lord launch into battle; He was a sight to behold, a reaper amongst their enemies. He had initiated the attack against the mercenaries and the miners, buying His Legionnaires time to deploy as He drew enemy fire upon Himself. Revna had dropped down right behind Him, just like old times.

However, she wasn’t as quick and agile as she had once been; her injuries sustained in her rescue, though healed, had left lasting damage due their severity. She was a bit slower in her movements due to the partial numbness she still had in her lower back and her left leg, unable to dodge out of the way of blaster shots like she used to. Her saber fighting style had been affected as well; no longer was she capable of being so aggressive in her attacks. Now she was a bit more defensive, falling back on saber Forms that allowed her to defend herself against errant bolts of plasma and energy, while freeing her to use more of her Force abilities.

She kept an eye upon her Father, watching His back as He surged forward to dispatch foe after foe. More and more Wonosan Legionnaires poured in and disembarked to join into the fray and the assault to take the thermal shield’s central power station. If the Wonosans could take the station, they would control the planet. It was vital that they succeed here - but the mercenaries and miners were making damn sure that they put up a good fight.

Ahead of them was the main loading bay, and many of Eos’s miners and mercenaries and workers were pulling back, trying to seal themselves within and block Strosius and His forces from breaching any further. A line of droids offered suppression fire into Wonosan ranks, giving the miners time to begin their withdrawal into the power station. The Sith Lord was soon upon the droids, and had ripped the head off one before shouting commands to His loyal warriors that followed Him. Revna was close by, drawing upon the power and energy of the Dark side to unleash a quick burst of reddish-purple Sith lightning upon a group of other droids - frying them into incapacitation.

Nearby, someone whom Revna was unfamiliar with loosed a bolt of Sith Lightning straight into the back of a man who was trying to escape through the blast doors. Said individual surged ahead, intent it seemed upon reaching the blast doors. The Sith ally was met with immediate hostility, but blasters could do little in the face of the Force. The Dark side flowed as easily as blood from a severed artery, and Revna let it seep into every part of her - fueling her. Within her, the Void Hunger that was now a part of her being hissed to be unleashed, and Revna was tempted to let it loose…but the recent memory of what had happened on Brosi, of the disaster that had nearly claimed her and her loved ones, kept Revna from giving in to that temptation.

Perhaps another day, she could feed the Void, and harness the power it gave to her.

The unknown Sith aiding Strosius and the Wonosans called back to the Sith Lord as he seemed to buy them some time, halting the progression of the blast door’s descent to allow as many of her Father’s forces to enter within. But more enemies were coming to greet them.

And that wouldn’t be the only situation that suddenly arose to add a kink to the plans.

Revna felt the Force shift and twist, felt pain and terror and fear and confusion flood into the web around her. Eyes that shined like fire turned to look back over her shoulder to see what could be causing such distress. She saw a figure, tall and wearing the familiar black armor of the Sith of Wonosa - killing all those around it with a crimson saber in hand.

Confusion was her first thought, as eyes flickered to others that seemed to be firing into the backs of the Wonosans. They were like walking corpses, like the Jen’ari that she was familiar with on Korriban…but these were more sentient.

Something was wrong…very wrong.

“...What the…”

Revna cast her sharp gaze to Darth Strosius, to alert Him to what was transpiring out on the landing pad some distance away. “Master! We’ve got a problem!”

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran
Nearby: Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

The Felacatian Acolyte padded alongside Kasir, helm left behind to bare her senses to Eos. Her nostrils flared, the stench of blood flooding her lungs until she tasted it. Another deep sniff and there it was, beyond the sulfer and iron that coated the air, she smelled it.

Fear. Anxiety. Trepidation.

The air was thick with it, prompting the Felacatian's predatory instincts to flare, the inky designs of her tattoos shifting only to settle over her dusky skin. While she maintained a cool, flat expression, when her master's command whispered through the Force, No one leaves. Not today, it tugged at the corner of her mouth, causing a fleeting upward tick.

Without hesitation, she followed him toward the evacuation hangars.

That was when the Acolyte stumbled into two workers, their voices frantic as they tossed crates into the back of a landspeeder. Their hands shook, dropping more than they carried, desperation heavy in their movements.

Soah's claws began to slide free with a sound like bone grating on stone. Her muscles coiled, then released as she became a piston strike of sinew and shadow as she bounded up high, the world falling away beneath her before she slammed down and landed on the speeder with a heavy thud.

The men froze. Her lips peeled back, sharp pearly white fangs flashing as a guttural hiss tore free. They had no chance. The Felacatian struck first. Claws slashed across one face, tearing deep, the spray of blood hot across her skin. The other screamed, bolting into the chaos as he tried to get away. She gave chase, bounding with savage ease until her heavy weight slammed down onto his back. His scream split the hangar, high and desperate, but the shadows stirred eagerly, feeding on that fear, wrapping around them both until his haggard, shrill voice dissolved into silence.

When it was over, Soah rose in a fluid motion her braided head turning toward where she felt Kasir's presence. She crossed to him without a word, her dark ink still rippling faintly as though savoring the echoes of dread.

Another body fell, blood saturating the floor, the dull thud punctuating the air like a drumbeat. She tilted her head at him, expression unreadable, then broke the silence with the same tone one might use for idle conversation.

Her ears flicked once, "Can you shift into a big Chirodactyl at any time?"

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

​

His ceremonial dagger twirled with grace, catching amber rays from the hangar; all the while, he remained tethered to Soah's presence, an undercurrent, woven through his senses like a secret thread.

Each arc of the blade sang a murderous hymn, slicing through both sinew and muscle alike, shattering bone under his unnatural strength. Eruptions of thick blood sprayed across his armor, decorating it with a scarlet sheen; though he had fed before landing on Eos, each strike reignited a primal euphoria, each drop a whisper of life, with crimson puddles as silent invitations.

Suffused with command, his focus flicked toward a support beam nearby, and it began groaning with pressure as there was a tightening in his chest, tapping into his telekinetic ability, snapping it free as though it were just a twig from a tree.

Suspending in the air for a beat, it crashed downward onto a series of power conduits. Sparks flew instantly, data lines severed, sending the hangar into blackout.

A movement as fluid as water, Kasir pivoted, muscles tightening, then settled into a stillness like a statue carved from stone. The Sangnir's posture radiated dangerous serenity, and with Soah near, that deadly calm only deepened.

At first, he offered no answer. The pale planes of his face tilted ever so softly, eyes like twin voids drinking deeply of her presence, she was a predator, pupil, ally, Darkseeker, but something more lingered there, elusive, and perhaps, uncharted. The Felacatian's presence rippled through him, slicing through guarded barriers of logic, conjuring a sensation he could neither name, nor fully grasp.

Sulfur and ozone alike mingled in the air, a foul cocktail slicing through the haze, calibrating his mind for the darkness that lay ahead upon Eos.

Thin, bloodless slits that were Kasir's lips slowly parted, often more weapon than ornament. The first lie slipped through them, a whisper in the wind. “I've spent considerable time mastering that transformation, so that I don’t give in to its demands.”

The words trembled with restraint, before he permitted another lie to spill forth. “It is normally born from the purest loathing.. towards our enemies, nothing more.”

Not an inch did he budge, standing before her, shimmering like a shrine to the slaughter, as if anticipating further questioning.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth

Equipment: Lightsaber, Alchemized Mace, Armor​

Varin slung the worker to the ground with a heavy thud as he groaned in pain. Slowly he began to crawl from the towering apprentice, crying, whimpering in pain and fear. Varin glared at him as he made his demand.

“Your records. I want everything.”

Slowly he lifted his mace, then dropped it on the struggling individual's lower spine. A heavy crack echoed into the upcoming chamber as he let out another cry of pain. Straining his vocal chords so his voice cracked. The enhanced weight of the mace prevented him from crawling forward as Varin walked past him, noticing the workers gaze fixed inside the building.

“A good start.”

He slowly knelt beside the worker lifting the mace and then grabbing the workers back collar dragging him behind him. Though the worker struggled he gave him sufficient direction. At first. Varin noticed he had rounded the same corner a second time and he slung the worker back down to the ground.

“Trying to buy some time I see. Then I no longer have any use for you.”

Varin heard multiple footsteps heading his direction and his gaze shot up to see a handful of mercenaries train their rifles at him. Without warning they began firing at him, Varin quickly lifted the worker by the back of his neck using him as a meat shield as he darted forward. With his other hand occupied by the mace he crushed a humanoid’s skull between the wall and his weapon and threw the worker at the other mercenaries. Blood poured from the wall behind him as a second of silence was met by a massive blast from the body of the worker he threw at the mercenaries. Strong enough to send another flying back into the wall while decimating the others.

Ahead of him past the mercenary he noticed a closed heavy door. Varin walked towards the door, ignoring the struggling mercenary as he reached his hand over to him in a pitiful attempt to stop this force before him. The young apprentice’s gaze fell upon the mercenary and he scoffed. Varin swiftly slung the mace into his chest cavity putting an end to him.

Gently he placed his palm on the door and concentrated, feeling, listening to the signs of fear, anxiety and uncertainty. A faint heartbeat, rapid, but faint was just behind. He slung his mace into the holster on his back and ignited his saber, driving it into the center of the door and began slowly carving.

He spoke into his communicator as he carved.

"Varin to Lord Strosius, I have hit a bit of an obstacle, it may take me a few minutes to cut into it, but I'm sure there is something in here of value for you."

Darth Strosius
​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Too Hot to Handle
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Delsin Shaw / Lúthien Tinúviel / Darth Nefaron / Varin Mortifer / Kasir Dorran / Veradun Sharr / Revna Marr / Soah Ty’Jyn
--------------------------------------------

In spite of their rapid assault and His own swift advance, the mercenary guards and their worker compatriots had done a decent job of delaying their actual infiltration into the station itself. With the droids laying down fire to keep the open loading area occupied and the retreating personnel picking careful shots as they fell back, thus far the Legionnaires had only gained a bit of ground from their initial drop off points. Thankfully for them, the Dark Side was a pathway through any barrier or fortification.

While Darth Strosius Himself was holding attention and drawing fire away from the soldiers, Revna was aiding in cutting down the droids and clearing a path, and in a blur of movement and more than few flashes of blaster fire the rather unexpected addition of Delsin Shaw had crossed the distance to the blast doors as they began to slide closed. Delsin's offer of assistance was unusual and of course under suspicion, but given the spreading of His Sith across Eos to pursue various objectives all at once any extra pair of hands was welcome. Even if He had to keep an eye on the younger Sith for whatever his true motivations might be.

:"Your recommendation is appreciated Mr. Shaw.": The Sith Lord responded over the comms as He rushed forward to stand before the blast doors Himself. :"All squads move in, we can't let them get too dug in in there!": Clearing out the inside of the station would no doubt be even more time consuming and costly than capturing the landing area had been. Between the three Sith on hand and the ability to bring in more reinforcement uncontested however, He had no doubts that they would succeed before the workers could sabotage too much.

As He was about to step through the threshold and join Delsin inside however, His stride paused as He sensed something very wrong indeed. Revna felt it as well and declared as much right before the sounds of blaster fire and screams from behind them reached His ears through the commlink in His helmet. Darth Strosius turned on His heel and scanned the landing area for the commotion, His hidden gaze narrowing and His fangs grinding together as He spotted what seemed to be some foreign soldiers led by a turncoat Wonosan Sith in their backline.

He hissed a curse but before He could make His way back across the wide open landing area to intercept the new arrivals, the blast doors suddenly shuddered back to life. "Chit!" His lightsaber was quickly clipped back onto His belt as He slammed His shoulder against one side of the blast door, planting His feet on the tracks and slowing its closure with a grunt. :"Squads Alpha through Iota, get inside now! We can't ignore the mission! Everyone else regroup at the entrance and open fire on these interlopers. Pilots, covering fire!":

Several gunships swung around as the Legionnaires broke into a sprint towards the blast doors, their footfalls and frantic blaster fire soon joined by strafing runs from their aerial compatriots as the interlopers became the main source of their ire. Several squads rushed past Darth Strosius to assist Delsin's advance, the Sith Lord Himself still digging His boots into the tracks to buy more precious seconds for His forces to rush inside. He winced as His communicator pinged but thankfully it wasn't another cry for help, rather it was an update.

:"Varin, acquire the data then relocate to the power station as soon as possible! I need you to cover our rear, someone's surprised us in kind.": That His daughter had taken Sith under her wing was still a somewhat odd and out of place notion, but at the moment He pushed such thoughts aside. The mission came first, if they couldn't take control of the power station then this whole venture was for nothing. Hopefully the gunships would be enough to put down the interlopers before Varin even arrived.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

|| Objective I: Too Hot to Handle ||
|| Equipment: Armor | Sword | Ring | Mask ||
|| Tags: Darth Strosius | Darth Nefaron | Varin Mortifer | Kasir Dorran | Veradun Sharr | Revna Marr | Soah Ty’Jyn ||​

After clearing a small section, another Sith joined me. While her name was not upon my tongue or within my head, She provided fortified assistance in fighting back the would be thwarters. the sight of Strosius came forward. About to be leading the group deeper within I began to turn around when fear within the force, surprised fear was easily felt. Eyes darting quickly behind us just as the other two did. Almost in unison we did so. All determining that there was something more going on. A smile came to my lips as I started to walk back to the opening. However, in that moment, the doors began to close.

Strosius himself braced them with his own form. Letting troops filter in and race to be diving deeper into the facility. A light snarl came to my lips. Bracing the other side of the door with my own frame. Feeling my body strain with heels digging in. A light grunt escaped. Clearly, something was going on behind him. And in earnest, I felt this to be quite the change in what was happening. I came apart into more of myself. Shadows that formed into perfect forms of who I was. Each taking a new task.

"Lead your troops Lord Strosis. Your visage carries their morale. I'll see about these extras."

The words strained as I held the other half of the doors open for him and his troops. My snarl formed more into a growl. Suddenly, I walked away. As one braced the door with Strosius, another walked over to him and took a part of the weight. The third walking out back into the field of troops towards the infighting.

"Wouldn't want the man of the hour to not be at the lead."

My self bracing the side with the Lord smiled brightly and spoke before throwing his own body weight into it.

"Go deeper. I got the door until you can find a way to keep it open."

The self walking out into the field of troops picked up his pace. The walk slowly changing to a jog, to a run, and then dead on sprint to where these other Wonosan troops were fighting one another. Closing the distance as fast as I could without expending energy.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Objective: Too Hot To Handle
Tags: Revna Marr | Darth Strosius | Kasir Dorran |
Soah Ty’Jyn | Varin Mortifer | Veradun Sharr |
Delsin Shaw | Delsin Shaw​

Endlessly, ceaselessly busy. These days, she'd hardly had time to pause between tasks— teaching courses at Kor'ethyr, ever complexifying experiments in her laboratory, and war of course. Endless war.

It wasn't that she was opposed necessarily. A'Mia knew strife had a way of sorting the wheat from the chaff, struggle and conflict generally assured that the strongest and cleverest survived.

No, it wasn't the conflict itself she grew weary of, rather that the neti was loathe to be away from her more delicate and time sensitive work.

Alisteri's cause though felt important enough to move her to action and pull her away from those other responsibilities for a time. Thus, A'Mia arrived on Eos. A little later than the other arrivals and decidedly more put out than a dignified or ferocious Sith ought to be.

"Blasted planet…" she pouted to herself as she trudged forward in a fire-proof environsuit.
"Stupid constrictive piece of…"

A'Mia hated the confining sensation of suits that limited her natural shapeshifting capabilities and lamented once more her lack of adequate armor that protected her in scenarios like this without cramping her like a rootbound begonia. She made a terse mental note to seek counsel with Darth Caedes regarding such matters, surely he'd made progress on that project he'd given her glimpses of a while back.

There was no shortage of violence and action occurring up ahead, so the neti sighed and reached into the pockets of her annoyingly restrictive outfit. A'Mia pulled forth half a dozen ferrus spheres, ready to activate them as she drew near the fray.

Taking in the chaos before her, she quickly made note of where she could be most helpful. Then with a cheerful cry, she announced herself to those allies she recognized.

"Sorry I'm late! I've brought back up though— I'll be right there Revna. Hellooo Alisteri. Oh goodness you are busy aren't you."

Ordinarily her voice wouldv've been lost in the din of battle but she used the Force to cast it outward across the battlefield and up to the doors of the power station. Her words, so bright and out of place, drew the attention of some of those combatants that were previously harrying her allies.

It was then, as some of their ire turned on her, that she smiled and activated the spheres. Roaring from their confines, six Qyazik Dziri sprang forth to leap into combat. Her mind was linked with theirs, so she guided their onslaught with the precision of a surgeon and the playful glee of a puppet master. Their hides would protect them well, even here, and their mane like tendrils were already writhing— seeking victims for their psychic onslaughts.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran
Nearby: Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

Soah listened in silence, her amber eyes fixed on Kasir as he explained how he'd had taken considerable time to master the shift into his Warform, that it came from the purest of lothing and nothing else. The words came smooth enough, but the Felacatian didn't need the Force or even the weight of their growing bond as Master and Apprentice to realize the truth.

He was lying.

The Felacatian Acolyte had smelled and sensed the change in Kasir from the very first time they met again after the Carnival. It had been a distinct, predatory shift not only in his presence as one predator to another, but his scent had been different. A subtle musk with an underlying mineral and iron undertone. One that didn't stop and lingered around him, intensifying now and then after he disappeared and came back when he fed, but still there, none the same.

Since then, even though she'd been dropped off on Korriban to learn more about her sentient tattoos, not once had she sensed that warform stirring within him during their travels. Not once had her instincts thrummed with the nearness of an apex predator, nor had she tasted that particular cocktail of hate and loathing coated in that overpowering ozone crackle, copper, musky sweet tang that poured from him when he became something else.

Even when they had danced their waltz and she felt the incessant hunger roll off him, he never acted on the desire. Never felt him get to a point of loathing that could warrant that particular shift. Even she had struggled with it when she'd been practicing to control her own change while in hyperspace, slowly getting better at maintaining it in check until she needed it to come out.

He couldn't have hidden it. And he certainly couldn't have done it in that little dark chamber of his, the one he always locked himself into. Even through durasteel walls, Soah had caught the scent that tickled her nose with irritating curiosity. The day she peeked inside, what she'd found had made her bristle -- something she would deal with later.

Off in the distance, the thud of footsteps and acrid scent of sulfur and blood rose, their companions also moving to secure the evacuation hanger. All the while, Soah's expression never wavered, her dusky face marked in shifting ink tilted up toward Kasir, framed by the tight braids he had woven himself. That unnerving amber gaze with its flat, deadpan stare lingered a beat too long before Soah gave a slow blink.

That alone said everything.

Okay. Try again.

The air pulsed with a warning through the Force, and without even looking away from him, the Acolyte brought her hand up and summoned a ruined durasteel panel from the floor with a flick of thought. The volley of blaster fire splashed harmlessly against it, sparks spraying away from the pair. A factory security officer had decided to play hero.

She didn't flinch, and with a flick of her wrist, the slab went launching back across the hangar straight at the worker. There was a loud, wet, distinct crunch as metal met flesh; the officer crushed beneath the weight.

And all the while, Soah's stare never wavered from Kasir; flat, patient, and steady, waiting to see what he would say next.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

​

In the dim hangar he stood, encased in a shroud of numbness. The disorder around the two Darkseekers dissolved into background static, unworthy of his focus. Where most mortals may find their hearts pounding erratically, faces flushing, palms slick, throats tightening, Kasir would display not a single outward sign.

A chunk of ruined durasteel that Soah had wielded telekinetically smashed the factory worker under its weight, yet his eyes did not follow the strike. He neither flinched nor shifted his stance; barely a single blink passed.

The only movement was a subtle adjustment of his head as he listened to the hiss of blood on hot durasteel in the distance. Seconds ticked by, and the Sangnir finally exhaled slowly, his chest barely rising as he absorbed Soah's presence.

Every atom of light dissolved into the depths of his stare, and had the Felacatian looked closely, she would've seen they reflected only her silhouette, for pupils dilated into voids, allowing himself to feel the silent accusation that hung between them. It was then he reached deep within, far into the cold calculus of his own being; and so, it was deemed true, that she alone was the axis on which his world revolved these days.

But he showed no sign of vulnerability, no indication that he truly cared. Instead, he calmly brushed a speck of blood from his armor with a single, elegant fingertip, a gesture devoid of any real purpose, before his stare latched back onto hers like a snare.

One hand extended forward, palm facing upward, cool as ice. From the depths of his will, an invisible tendril of the Force was conjured. It slithered forward, and dared to slip into his apprentice's mind like a feather, tracing along nerve endings. Unlike so many birthed, this one did not rip, did not invade. Rather, it danced along the edges of her thoughts, brushing just on the outside of past memories, the same ones he never touched, always allowing her to keep them private. Had Kasir probed deeper, he would've found the reasoning behind this curiosity about his warform, without touching the core of secrets, ones often buried deepest in every soul.

Then he released it like a sigh, the same wisp curling back into his chest softly, but not without leaving residue of his own signature behind, an echo that would hover on the brink of her awareness. These were the same skills he'd already passed on to her, silent arts that she would surely recognize.

A low, almost gentle, whisper finally broke the silence that was pregnant with unease. "One day, your control will surpass my own."

Trust among their kind was fragile, capable of shattering at the slightest touch, a truth Kasir had learned the hard way, a witness to the shards left in the aftermath.

Still, he pushed further, avoiding her question with a distance that was every bit calculated, which was why his own delivery next was heavy with nuance.

"Do you confuse my silence for indifference?"