Side by Side ... by Side [First Order Dominion of Anoat Sector Hex]

[Visser Chernykh]

Post 3
[member="Gemma Cavataio"] [member="Caid Centurion"]
Anoat

Mael Ren plunged a single energy blade into the bronzium clad door. It was slow-going but it wouldn't hold out. The crimson saber smoked and sparked as he methodically cut a rough circle. They'd know exactly where he was now but it hardly mattered.

The smell of burned bronzium and wood filled the air. It was over before long as he finished the job with a heavy boot. The human-sized chunk went in with a loud crash. He followed with his weapon braced to intercept fire.

None came as he stepped through. His gaze quickly took in the ostentatious entrance hall. Empty. The rich busts and wall hangings meant little to Mael Ren

Skjold Alexeyev might've coveted the framed works of art. He would know that the pieces were worth untold thousands of credits. Skjold Alexeyev had been weak and a fool. Mael Ren walked past them without a glance.

The First Order had remade the weak failure of a man. The masked disciple now had a place and purpose. Those things were worth far more than bits of art. He swept past the sweeping staircase too.

The gilt sparkled everywhere and it was all dross. There were not up the stairs. He went to the left-most corridor and followed the path. It seemed to culminate in a dead end.

He could feel the life forms quivering with fear just behind. His crimson weapon came to life once again with a sharp hiss. It hummed as he carved through the wall. The false wall.

The 'wall' indeed was a door to a panic room. This was revealed mere moments later. So too were the cowering nobles just behind. Their terrified eyes all locked on him.

All of the family was represented in the sparsely furnished chamber. It contrasted sharply with the riches of the manse all around it. Indeed did their garish clothing stand out all the more against the plain durasteel. All were paralyzed with fear except for a young lad.

Just four or five, he was too young to comprehend the danger. He stepped forward with his eyes locked on the stranger. Brave, he though and his mother broke her paralyzed fear with a shout. She managed to grab the boy and bring him back.

Mael Ren watched this in silence. His eyes shifted as the head of the family stepped forward. He began to speak in a tremulous voice. "Please. Please, spare my children. They're so young."

His face had drained of all color. His hand trembled as he gestured to his children. They ranged from as young as four or five to a girl of perhaps fifteen. Only the eldest truly appeared to understand the gravity of the situation.

The others could only sense their elders' fear. They were ignorant of what could possibly happen. Indeed the youngest lad seemed to be curious instead of afraid. How blissful they are in their ignorance.

He reflected on how much the lad reminded him of his life past.

"You have committed an egregious sin by standing against the Supreme Leader," he said in his inhuman voice "Resistance will not be tolerated."

The lady of the house's mouth began to work in silent protest. He raised his left hand to forestall her. They all regarded it like a poisonous snake. All except the little lad who merely watched in fascination.

"Let it be known that the Leader is not without forgiveness. Repent and he will yet forgive you. Kneel and swear your allegiance to the First Order and you will yet live. If you choose non-compliance," he turned his gaze and swept it over the family. He closed his hand into a fist to finish his pronouncement.

The lady let out a shriek as a light fixture crumpled behind them. The eldest daughter's eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed. The fear had been too much. None moved to catch her and she hit with a thump.

"I...I will swear," the lord manged through a dry throat "Just please spare the children."

Mael Ren nodded.

"It will be done. Now kneel and pledge your fealty."

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 19/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

As they see Frank handle the tauntaun with ease, it would seem that his experience of equestrian sports is with mounted horse racing, regardless of the gait he actually rode. And while Frank had his tauntaun turn in circles, he would jockey it at speeds that were as high as 85 kph (with a rider called a fully-equipped stormtrooper on its back, they are not as fast as they are without a rider) without a saddle or without a bridle. Obviously the equipment they need to have shipped from Anoat will include bridles, saddles as well as all the other materials that people would usually associate with horse corrals that could carry over to housing a herd of tauntauns in a cave. And yet they came to the grim realization that all that Dunames had for food was some survival pack; food supplies for the first few weeks of operation would also have to be shipped from Anoat. And they can't kill the native Skels for food without incurring their wrath. Unless Dunames was willing to go to Bespin again for getting food supplies for just about as long as the Anoat supplies would have come from.

"Just a day or two and the Resistance will be crushed. In the meantime, I hope you like corned-beef"

"Don't worry about corned-beef. I don't always eat fineries, you know"

"I suppose the sports schools made you eat corned-beef... here comes Frank now!"

"I had to escape from a crazy Wampa out there; the corned-beef better be good - oh, I've forgotten that, because of the injuries sustained in battle I cannot take that helmet off except for treatment"

 

[Tyger Tyger]

Sometimes, I try to remember how I got mixed up in all this.

Not just bounty hunting, or contractor work, but the whole damn thing. This whole business of War.

Leia yawned, stretching her single arm overhead in a dramatic indication of boredom. This day to day of a life in hiding did much for the muse, but for what good that was. The lack of agency killed the creative soul stone dead.

I can’t imagine being seven years old and looking at the stars, wanting to be in a TIE Fighter setting the earth on fire. I think, maybe, it was to impress my father…to get free in that way he always tried to impress upon me.

She needed to escape, in one way or another. Her dreams were stockpiled, overflowing. Soon, they would not all fit in this tin-can.

But, for the life of me, it seems like everything about this whole “freedom of space” racket is about killing indiscriminately – The ability to perish whoever you want, and the skills to get away with it. Dodge the consequences, ignore Justice. No one to tell you anything.

She approached the record player, lifting the protective plastic, as her eyes drifted over the stack of musical options nearby. Country, Folk, Blues. The kind of stuff that was easy enough to always be applicable.

So, maybe, that was always my wish. Maybe this was exactly what I wanted, even if I was too naïve at the time of its wishin’.

Or maybe the whole galaxy is poodoo, and there was never really any choice at all.

She selected one at random, drawing the disc from the sleeve and setting it upon the turntable.

Because we all know if it wasn’t me here, it would just be someone else.

It’s inevitable. Unavoidable. The Book of Death is open and it’s got the names of the whole karkin’ galaxy in it.

The slight feedback of empty noise pumped through a speaker; then of a needle dragging.

And then of a life adrift.

And it’s really just not worth the thought anymore.

Varonat
The Great Jungle​

Diplomacy was over. No one spoke the language anymore – a surrender as good to the four remaining soldiers as a death threat. There was no use begging – There was no stopping was coming.

♫I had me a wife. I had me some daughters. I tried so hard. I never knew still waters.♫​

Cue a montage of fire and bloodshed. Splice this massacre of an unpopular opinion amidst violent imagery and music.

♫Nothing to eat and nothing to drink. Nothing but a man to do but sit around and think.♫​

♫Nothing but a man to do but sit around and think.♫​

Two Morodin stood guard at entrance to the hedge labyrinth, its green walls speckled with fruits and vegetables and offers of life to not be taken. To instead by soaked in gore

♫Well, I’m thinkin and I’m thinkin, till there’s nothin’ I ain’t thunk. Breathing in the stink, ‘till finally I stunk.♫​

Whether they were actually guards or not didn’t matter, the ground still shook as they hit the ground, chunks of their slimy forms ripped from them as if they had been bitten by God.

♫It was at that time, I swear I lost my miiinnnnd… I started making plans to kill my own kind.♫​

♫I started making plans to kill my own kind.♫​

Four became two groups of two, diverting down opposing pathways in the crop maze. Strategic pie-turns gave the advantage to the troopers and Milo, these morodin too slow and too obvious in the light of day.

♫“Come, little daughter,” I said to the youngest one. “Put your coat on. We’ll have some fun.”♫​

Even their ambushes were hopeless. Spotted early, killed before they were even in striking range.

♫“We’ll go out to the mountains, the one to explorrrre.” Her face then lit up, I was standing by the door.♫​

♫Her face then lit up, I was standing by the door.♫​

There was no glory here, only bloodbath. Only slaughter. The hopeless tactics of labyrinth offered no distraction, failed in its efforts at concealment.

♫“Come, little daughter – I will carry the lanterns. We’ll go out tonight; we’ll go to the caverns”♫​

Stormtrooper helmets simply came on, detecting the young, impressionable morodin warriors through the flora, betrayed by their own body heats.

♫“We’ll go out tonight….We’ll go to the caaaaaaaaaves. Kiss your mother goodnight, and remember that God saves.”♫​

♫“Kiss your mother goodnight, and remember that God saves.”♫​

The work of a generation was paved over by the squad’s advance. Dead boys, dead crops. Evolutions, impossible to replicate in all this galactic chaos, meeting abrupt and impassible dead ends. They were never truly here for war.

♫I led her to a hole, a deep black well. I said, “Make a wish, be sure and not tell, and close your eyes, dear, and count to seven.”♫​

They were here for leverage. To stand in the place of old men with greater interests. Star Blossom. Supreme Leader. Two headstones, marking caskets stuffed with a billion and one dead kids.

Saturn ascends in a galaxy so very far away.

♫“You know your papa loves you. Good children go to Heaven.”♫​

♫“You know your papa loves you. Good children go to Heaven.”♫​

The maze went on, and the fight grew tedious. The lieutenant produced a napalm grenade, and with all the interest it took to change the channel on the holovision, exterminated the footsoldiers of a resistance.

♫I gave her a push. I gave her a shove. I pushed with all my might. I pushed with all my love.♫​

The fire caught, and wouldn’t uncatch. The ground quaked as more dissidents fell, their slick forms literally boiling in the heat, popping like blisters against withering grass.

♫I THREW MY CHILD TO A BOTTOMLESS PITTTTTTTTTTTTT♫​

Dense packs of life wilted, and the hedge rows built by giants smoldered into the sky, smoke billowing in a cloud so dense, it threatened to block out the sun.

♫She screamed as she fell, but I never heard her hit.♫​

♫She screamed as she fell, but I never heard her hit.♫​

And they all stood there as he laughed, watching it burn for the breakdown.

♫ ♪♫ ♪♫​

​

Varonat
Tropis-on-Varonat​

“Sir, did you put in a request for assistance from the Knights of Ren?”

It was the humanoid alien from before, shaking off a light daze brought on by Force Persuasion. Not the most encouraging way to start the day. In a small shack like structure, he was utilizing a closed signal to contact Watcher-Four at his weird satellite branch of ISB.

“Excuse me?”

“Sir, did-,” the alien repeated…or tried to.

Watcher-Four wasn’t happy.

“I heard you, and you know full well I didn’t. Why are you asking me that, Cypher Agent Yellow?”

He knew already. He had to. It was obvious if you heard the words.

“There’s one there. Of course there is. Ready to walk all over my operation. For the love of – Look. They may just be on holiday, or enjoying the scenery. The second, and I mean THE SECOND, it looks like they intend to enter the jungles, I want you to direct them to me. Understood?”

The line closed with little else. After all, there was no cause for concern…yet. It was a big planet in the end. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

“Roger that, sir.”

Hopefully…for Agent Yellow had no idea how to stop [member="Boo Chiyo"].

Varonat
The Great Jungle​

Helmets already donned (Or, in the case of Tyger Tyger, a breathing mask), they stepped over scalding ruin, scorched earth crunching underneath. What was once shining emerald, teeming with the life of chlorophyll and the fauna that hid within, now just a deep fog of slate grey, the occasional Halloween orange.

There was nothing here anymore. A straight walk to Star Blossom, or where he was projected to be.

The squad would find a plot that had been left bare per design, likely for some sort of ritual purpose, maybe something involving the sun. The smoke was more absent here, and they took a brief pause to sip their canteens. To check their status and their equipment.

Milo noted that the soldier with the charred face sported a Stormtrooper helmet, adorned with tiger stripes.

“You’re the one’s been mad doggin’ me,” Milo confronted him, his voice now possessing a tinny characteristic as it passed through his muzzle.

Stripes turned to Tyger Tyger and watched him, his expression unclear behind the smiling mask. Finally, he spoke back. “That was me, alright”

“Gonna tell me why?” There was no lust of result. No real curiosity. The real question here was whether or not they were going to have a problem.

“Hah. You had that look about you,” Stripes began, his line of sight following the Private and the Lieutenant as they wandered into the smoke, possessed by their own conversation. “That one that says you aren’t supposed to be here. The one of a man in an existential crisis.”

“You think so?,” Milo was evidently amused. The soldier was right, sure, but not in any way that was particularly shrewd. “I think that’s a lot of gravity for a doorkicker. Makes me wonder how you became a doorkicker in the first place.”

A light jab, but a jab nonetheless.

“Got pegged with Rape charges,” Stripes said with a shrug. Noncommittal, oddly, as though he were talking about someone else.

Milo sat on the information a minute. It wasn’t the first time he had worked with criminals trading jailtime for military service. He was also aware of the harshness of the military justice system, often preferring to hang you out to dry than deal with the possibility of bad PR and the regulations it brings.

The two men began their own pace into the fog, Stripes a few steps ahead. He gave the soldier the benefit of the doubt. “You do it?”

“Hahahaha. Of course I did!” Now Stripes was amused, turning around to see Milo’s face. “Tyger Tyger, you didn’t think you were down here, with us, because you were a good man, did you?”

♫Don’t speak to me of lovers with a broken heart. You want to know what will really tear you apart?♫​

♫I’m going out to the barn, will I never stop in pain?♫​

Pointing with his blaster, he made sure the bounty hunter was aware of the dead morodin that littered the ground. Of the ruin they were responsible for.

“Look around you – We’re in Hell.”

♫I’m going out to the barn…to hang myself in shame.♫​

​

​

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"Varonat" (4 of 30)​

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[Caid Centurion]

Post 6
Location: Anoat Surface
[member="Gemma Cavataio"]

There was no immediate reaction to Gemma's response from Caid. His masked and cloaked figure regarded her with no real indication as to emotional investment. He'd already figured there was a connection that drifted beyond simple passing acquaintance. He could feel as much within the very depths of his soul. When Gemma had first said sister, Caid was prepared to simply dismiss it. He knew that his father had entertained the company of many females in his past. It was her statement of their second connection that slid the finally cog of understanding into place.

Perhaps in a more...traditional family, the concept of having a sister or brother that was always one's cousin might yet be a reason for concern. However, Caid knew that his father had lived for countless years now...much like the various other members of the Cavataio side of his family. Gemma's response did not, however, give any particular indication as to which of his mother's sisters she was a product of. That is...until she finally spoke the name 'Gemma'.

It took Caid a moment, but the ever-rotating cogs of his memory finally locked in where he'd heard the name. A daughter of his mother's eldest sister. His grandmother's first born. He'd never heard the name of a father mentioned...for whatever reason. Also, Gemma was supposed to be dead along with a great many other earlier Cavataio spawn.

So. Cameron Centurion had seduced two of the Cavataio sisters. It was funny...Caid was the one that took issue with his father's ways...never having really fully embraced the Dathomir culture despite his efforts. His mother said it was simply because he had too much of his father's DNA running through his blood. Funny, it was a reality that his mother said he should regard as a strength. Yet all he had to offer for the man on his best of days was disdain and irritation. It seemed in every aspect of his life, Cameron Centurion's scent or touch had already been there.

This was the reason that Caid had taken up the mantle formerly held by his father. It was a mask he would wear as he gathered strength, forged his own path and reputation. Then when it was revealed the mantle belonged not to Cameron Centurion but a younger, better version, Caid would have his life. Being in the shadow of his father, was no longer an option.

"We'll talk later." Turning from Gemma, he vaulted up to a balcony two floors above his present location on the ground level. The young Knight of Ren was sure there were external cameras that had watched his approach...both of their approaches, but it didn't matter at this point. With the First Order already occupying the space above the planet and many troops landing in more of the public transportation areas, there really wasn't much of a reason to attempt to run...there was nowhere to run to.

Silently, Caid waved a hand to open the double french doors before stepping inside. Before he'd even completely crossed the threshold, he sensed the attack. Two guards within the room. Manipulating the invisible aura of the Force, Caid compressed the ever-present energy against both men with crushing force. Screams quickly filled the master bedroom before the sounds of crushing bones nearly overpowered their screams. In less than a few seconds, silence swept through the master bedroom once more.

Silver-green eyes turned in the direction of the bathroom which, according to his information, should contain the access door to the safe room. "Search the guards for access keys. One of them is undoubtedly the head of security and would have access." Caid merely assumed that his sister had followed him up to the master bedroom. Her presence still radiated like a star over his mind, impossible to ignore at even relatively close proximity.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Alles: The First Order; Ground Forces [member="Amin Garith"], [member="FN-1313"], [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Decima Fortan"], [member="Adalric Vastor"]
Enemies: Plebs, Peasants, and Not-First Order People.
Objective: Kill them all, with style of course.
Location: Rebel HQ.
Post: 4 // ??

Ah, so that's where the fifth guard had been, no matter. Orentho was sliding down the ladder, he could hear boots marching for him already. He didn't have time to dismantle the ladder and would just have to book it. No time to turn and set traps either, this operation was starting to go poorly. Boots coming for him from ahead, and then some, he needed to get charges set around the generators. Blowing the rebel's base would do enough to distract them from other First Order forces, the hall from the ladder out to main engineering is quiet. Before he heads out he grabs a helmet and badge from the hook beside the door.

Turning around he could see the boots going down the ladder, and as he opened the door in front of him he saw a contingent of forces flooding main engineering. He had no choice but to move forward, Orentho still has a hand on his bag, and the other trying to fumble with his holdout blaster while maintaining his well, what little cover he had now. No stealth generator, and while he may have had a knife or two on him, he couldn't afford to waste them on plebians.

Orentho sticks to the shadows trying to avoid detection at all costs, he's a little ways down from the door that led toward the ladder access and those boots were now searching for him. Generators were in the next room over, the big one was here in this room but he'd have no way of getting to it right now. "I think I see him, there, over there by the generator room!" A guard shouts, and now he karks it.

Throwing off the helmet, the agent makes his way into the generator room. A guard comes to meet with him, but Orentho doesn't have time for pleasantries. He elbows the man in the face and with bag in hand punches the poor guard in the gut, as the guard drops to the ground so does his blaster pistol. Orentho grabs it, turns on a dime and begins firing forcing the rebels to take cover while he manages to slide in behind a generator. Now he gets to work, setting the first of five charges, ducking and dodging blaster fire and occasionally returning fire when and where he could.

 

[Aram Kalast]

Location: Above Anoat
Post: 06(Various Characters)

Aram had removed himself from the bridge shortly after the Ren had been dispatched, the Supreme Commander having need of privacy while he made communication with the other element in the First Order’s dominance of the system.

“My Lord.” Aram’s voice echoed across the communication chamber as the blue holographic sprouted to life before him. Tall and imposing the hooded form held no qualms about its power as it towered over the Supreme Commander.

“Kalast.” The Supreme Leader said in a hushed voice that still managed to fill the entire chamber. “You are in position?” A pointless question, the Supreme Leader would in no doubt know seeing as he was only literally a quick jump away on the Cloud City of Bespin.

“Yes we are in position as instructed however there have been complications.” Aram gave the Supreme Leader a good look over, he had little to truly fear from the man having been there from the start of the First Order’s formation. However with news like this there was always that doubt at the back of his mind. “The YT that escaped us on Bespin, it is here.”

“The girl?” Curiosity, worried curiosity. Aram made a note.

“It has yet to be clarified, but I am sure that she would be with the ship.” Aram’s hands came to rest behind his back. “I shall send a team to acquire her My Lord.”

“No.” Sieger Ren was deep in thought, silent for a moment. “Flush them out, destroy the entire planet if you have to, then once they are on the run she will come to me.”

“She will come to you?” Aram remained puzzled, but had managed to succeed in gaining the permission he desired for the fate of the planet.

“Yes, it is her…” The hologram began to fade. “..Destiny.”

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 20/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

"Really? You didn't know about how Frank never takes his helmet off? He had to be fed using trachaeal means, which means liquids only. He probably ought to get a cybernetic buccal implant or some other such thing"

"Lanteeb, serving the First Order. I needed to save money for those things"

"Have veterans' insurance been diminished lately?"

"The one criticism that can be levied on veteran insurance is the high co-pay for critical surgery"

The ladies ate their corned-beef while Frank drinks some caf along with some vitamin pills to go with it. The very caf that these ladies will later drink. But, like Dunames said, Frank has no choice for the time being to be fed with liquids. This makeshift meal using the gasser supplied with the prefab housing will probably be among their very last ones, and the Gungan supplier of gassers is about to sign a massive contract to grant non-exclusive rights to a First Order-based company for the license-manufacturing of their line of gassers. In the news of that, Darth Scabious and his fiancée sold the 20% stake they held on Xi Char Cathedral, and instead invest the proceeds in the gasser manufacturer. Looks like the main things that tourists will want to do are operational by now, at least on a low level, so that they continue the conversation they had about the First Order's bread-and-circuses system.

"If you take a look at who last sat on the Council of 22, you will see that I'm one of those who best turned their lives around, presumably because I spent little time at the elite level of competition"

"I never really understood why it was called the Council of 22 in the first place"

"The trick is that, while the decision to discontinue support for figure skating alongside a few other snow and ice sports was made at the top, above us, while figure skating was still supported, athletes had complete control on how their sport was run. The Council of 22 was the highest internal decisional organ of the First Order's figure skating federation. However, only the elite of the elite of the sport had any say in the decisions"

"Do you think that the fact that athletes had too much say in how their sport was run may have contributed to figure skating being discontinued from support in the official bread-and-circuses circuit? What about equestrian sports?"

"Two different sports, two different practices. Equestrian sports were scaled back in my day due to the high costs of mount maintenance, but otherwise wasn't politically troubling, with most of the athletes and mounts now being provided by the private sector"

"What did figure skating in was not so much how athletes ran the show, but the fact that everything was run a stone's throw away from the Resistance"

 

[Darth Veles]

All seemed prepared for the upcoming assault, yet Veles had found himself missing one key component necessary for his own little plan to work – [member="Decima Fortan"]. The brunette was nowhere to be found, her signature out of reach when the Sith Lord’s own presence spread over the nearby location, sensing only the soldiers and several unfamiliar Ren. No trace of the woman there, which planted a soft frown in his expression. While most likely capable of soloing the entire rebel base through stealth, the amphibious Sith Lord had little intention of doing so.

Without a student to learn and observe, Veles could not start this test just yet, which most likely meant the master and apprentice due would skip this particular opportunity. Not the worst thing in the world – the Force and Veles’ plots would provide more tests for the young Fortan, push Decima forward and bring her closer to being a Sith, one step at a time. Before anything else the young sister of Natasi Fortan had to be found though.

Where did she go, anyway? She couldn’t have wandered too far away, given the Sith Lord’s conversation had lasted only a few minutes. For a moment, the Darth regretted not forming a stronger bond with the young woman, which would have made the task of pinpointing her location trivial. Only the intensified frequency of snow impacting his glassy orbs tore him from his thoughts. The darkened horizon prophesied nothing good.

Another snowstorm was about to cover all remaining tracks Decima had left behind. Wasting no more time, the Sith Lord set off, defying Hoth’s hostility once more. Soon, the soldiers have been left behind as Hoth hid the assassin's departure under a veil of white and spat the amphibious man back into its cruel, harsh reality. The frozen tundra grimaced even more menacingly than before, eager to consume the lone traveller's warmth and turn him into a silent tombstone fated to serve as a proof of nature's devastating abilities.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

(6)
Objective: BYOO
Location: Bespin space


Gracefully, the shuttle touched down in the Lightbringer's hangar, like a small bird returning to the nest after having made a good catch. The landing ramp lowered, Enyo and Vess emerged, while another HRD carried the still unconscious aristo. His horizons would soon be expanded. Errant thoughts would be purged from his mind.


The small stealth frigate was utilitarian as opposed to luxurious, for droids had no use for such frivolities. The hangar floor was pristine, as if it was kept clean by someone who was terribly obsessed with cleanliness to the point of sterility. There were no luxury quarters. Indeed, the very idea of living quarters would have been unheard of until recently, for the only organics who set foot upon this vessel were captives.


However, Enyo had never known anything else. She was being raised in a monastic way, so she wanted not. A droid welcoming committee was there to accept their cargo and take Atreides away. "Director Skaldi has been informed of the mission's success. You did well, Enyo," Vess said softly, using her most human voice.


"Thank you. Not that it was that big a challenge," Enyo remarked, sparing the aristo a glance. "The treatment is better than what that parasite deserves." However, there seemed to be something else on my mind. "So, how many missions will I undertake that involve me revisiting her old stomping grounds?"


It did not take a genius to figure out who 'her' was. "It bothers you to follow in her wake? You aren't ready to face her yet," Vess said bluntly. "You will not be for a long time. Rushing in will be your doom."


"I know. Not yet, but one day. I'd love to take the battle to Firemane itself. They have many outposts across the stars. Bases and convoys we can hit."


"All in time, Enyo. It may please you to know that Archangel has an operation scheduled on Kaeshana."


That piqued the clone's curiosity. "Kaeshana? The Eldorai homeworld. Firemane abandoned it to the cataclysm after saving the rich and powerful. Anyone who licked her boots and bribed her." The injustice of it all disgusted her. But it was so typical of her sister.


"Yes, precisely. Many of the natives were left behind. The Forsaken. We are providing them with the technology of peace...but there are some who resist. The obstinate, the foolish, the tyrannical."


There were always those who resisted the path of enlightenment. "Then I'd like to see Kaeshana for myself and help. There may be Force-users there who'd help against her rankid little empire," but then Enyo looked thoughtful. "They'd mistake me for her, wouldn't they?"


"Probably, but then you'll just have to prove you were wronged by Kerrigan as well," Vess patted the young clone on the shoulder. "Come on, I'm sure you must be hungry." The Lightbringer jumped into the realm of hyperspace, vanishing from the Bespin system.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 5 of 30
Objective: Bring Your Own Objective (BYOO)
Location: Tropis-on-Varonat

Control of the star port was an important first step.

Like any transformation, the subjugation of Varonat was meant to be a process unfolding through a series of events. And, as the young Knight of Ren made his way through the star port, he could see the transformation taking place. Stormtroopers now patrolled the docking bays. Identicards were required. Cargoes were inspected. Vague answers merited specific questions. And, one by one, the star port on Varonat became an Imperial operation.

Perhaps best of all, the sleight of hand that he'd used on the provincial administrator had kicked off a political debate over whether Varonat wanted the First Order to stay or leave. Such discourse was something the Pantoran believed was to be encouraged. A suggestion here, some mild persuasion there, and the objectives of the Supreme Leader might be bloodlessly achieved through the people electing to join the First Order, who would be ready to receive them with open arms.

...though, that was not to say or suggest that there wasn't a time or place for the closed fist.

"No one is interdicting anything."

As the child in the black cloak made his rounds through the municipal star port, he spied where Captain Kasshu was locked in debate with the general manager of the star port, a large, portly Ortolan woman who fit the mold of a frontier entrepreneur if ever there was one. She ran a lassez-faire operations. She didn't ask questions, she just got paid.

The change in security procedures was definitely not to her liking.

The boy silently took note of the fact that the First Order would need to identify a more qualified operator for the star port.

"As soon as we've verified the manifests and cargo, those transports will be free to depart," Captain Kasshu was arguing. The man was surprisingly adept at delivering the company line. "And, really, shouldn't you know who and what passes through your space?"

A vibration took the boy's attention off the conversation taking place. Producing a HoloBoy Advanced from within the folds of his cloak, the young Pantoran glanced at the message on the small datapad. Then, putting the device away, proceeded on his way through the star port toward his ship.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

Post 4
Anoat

Mere pledges of fealty were not enough. Words meant nothing. Too many beings believed their vows meant nothing when their master's back was turned. The Supreme Leader needed something more concrete.

They'd nearly betrayed themselves when Mael demanded codes and records. He'd casually placed a hand on his saberstaff hilt. Their reluctance had vanished in an instant. It made him smile.

These had been transmitted over Mael's encrypted comm link. There'd been no question nothing had left out. The disciple had deliberately let his gaze linger upon the youngest lad. The unspoken threat had been very clear.

He'd left once the transmission to Avalonia had finished. Nothing more had been said. Nothing needed to be said. Mael Ren knew they'd never forget what would happen if they sinned again.

Mael Ren left the estate feeling satisfied. He'd done the work of the Supreme Leader this day. Each day in service was a good day. Far better than the purposeless existence of Skjold Alexeyev.

But something niggled within his conscience. It had been the young lad. The boy had reminded him of a past life. A life he had left behind to become something more.

He'd been warned that the Light would pull at him. The Leader had known his follower all too well. Mael had been warned that it would be his greatest obstacle. Even the first Master, Kylo Ren, had faced it.

His thoughts were troubled as he returned towards his ship. Much of him knew he'd done the right thing. But there was just enough to suggest otherwise. Mael frowned as the turmoil swirled within him.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 6 of 30
Objective: Bring Your Own Objective (BYOO)
Location: Tropis-on-Varonat

The loading ramp opened as the boy approached.

The Sith Infiltrator was a hauntingly beautiful craft. A legacy as old as the Clone Wars. The ramp touched the ground just as the boy's boot hit the lower part of the ramp. And the ramp began closing as the child made his way up inside of the Sienar Star Systems manufactured transport. From the forward part of the 'beak' to the back of the bulb-like living section, the boy shed his cloak off into the alcove containing the bed on which he usually slept. Winding his way up into the flight deck, the boy arrived at a room containing a holo comm unit.

The unit activated as he approached, blue scan lines bursting across the room as the hologram generators gradually warmed up. As they did, a cowled form of someone in a distinctive mask took shape.

"Governor Lars raised some... concerns... with your report about the situation on Varonat."

"-tt-" So his report back to the Vanguard had already been circulated. At least enough that it had gotten back to the Order of Ren. That was interesting. Varonat seemed a rather minor issue. Not one that an Imperial Governor would be pressing with any political urgency. In any event, the boy said nothing, particularly as nothing had been asked of him.

"He feels that the Krish should be replaced with someone more... human."

The Krish almost certainly referred to the alien administrator of Tropis-on-Varonat, the capital city... at least, the human capital city of the planet. This time, the boy did elect to speak up. "The Krish has the support of the people, and can be easily made to share our message," the young Pantoran noted simply. A mere hand wave and he had sparked a political reform debate that was already discussing Varonat's future as a part of the First Order. Taking an element of the popular vote and gently easing him into the role of Imperial collaborator would more readily ply the populace to receiving the Supreme Leader.

"Removing him would be most... inefficient."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 19
Hoth

Decima came to and immediately knew something was wrong. She didn't know how or why at first, as her jacket was obstructing her view, but she soon came to realize that she was upside down, and not just upside down, but literally hanging from the ceiling by her feet. "Stang," she tried to whisper, but her lips were sealed with something sticky and cold. She tried to raise her hands, managed to find her face and rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. Her glove came away red with blood. Decima licked her lips, tasting the metallic salt, and then wriggled out of her jacket so she could look up. Her sweater had been torn at her midsection, and blood had trickled down her body, dripping down on her face and hair. It dripped off her nose after plastering her nostrils, staining the snow crimson beneath her.

That made two Fortans whose blood was part of Hoth now.

There was rumbling nearby, but in her current state Decima didn't know -- couldn't know -- whether it was being caused by the snow creature that had abducted her, or the clash of Resistance versus First Order for control over the ice cube that was Hoth. She didn't intend to stay to find out. She looked around, painfully twisting her body so she could see around the room. It looked like a storage room, which had been ransacked by something large and angry. But the doors on either end -- one battered down, the other closed -- told her that she was still in Echo Base. She tried to "sit up", reaching for her feet to try to pull them loose.

No dice.

She groped for her lightsaber. It wasn't on her belt. She had been holding it... Did I drop it? she asked herself, dark eyes wrestling against the crusted blood to examine her surroundings. There it was, on a shelf nearby. She extended a hand, calling for the Force to aid her, and the lightsaber flew to her hand. She thumbed the switch and slashed at her feet, trying to cut her bindings. It took one, two, three slashes before she succeeded, and re-introduced to the concept of gravity as she crashed down, barely managing to duck her head so that she landed on her shoulders and upper back. "Bullocks," she whimpered.

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Ludolf Vaas]

Location: HOTH
Objective: Eliminate Resistance
Posts: 1 (yeah... I know... pls no bully)
Allies: [member="Marzena Choi"]

There was a certain poetic justice in the Resistance's decision to choose the ruins of Echo Base to mount their final stand against the First Order. Sure, Hoth was a small, backwater planet and its frozen tundra and caves offered good terrain upon which to mount coordinated surprise actions, and it had served its purpose in hiding the Resistance well for the past few months. But Ludolf Vaas imagined that the stigma of Hoth must have hung heavy in the air for the Resistance on this day - this was, after all, the place where the Rebel Alliance had fought against the dreaded Empire many hundreds of years ago, unsuccessfully. Sympathetic historians might be able to spin the Battle of Hoth as a successful delaying action for the Rebels, and perhaps that was what the Resistance hoped for here today. A desperate last gasp at life, a last-ditch effort to keep the First Order at bay while the Resistance escaped and reconstituted its forces, clinging to the shadows of the galaxy. But few could deny that the Battle of Hoth was a resounding tactical victory for the Empire on the battlefield - the Rebel leaders had escaped safely in their transports, but at the cost of countless dead among their soldiery.

It had been much the same today.

General Vaas had become known for spearheading nearly every single military campaign of the First Order, not to mention serving personally on the front lines. But the Anoat Sector was a different story - this time, Vaas would be hanging back, utilizing his own Army Group purely as reinforcements for when the time was necessary. Even General Vaas was offered a respite from the fray of battle, it seemed. But Vaas would by no means be absent completely from this battle. While other Generals were gaining their own experience and renown in commanding the First Order Army on Hoth, Vaas would descend with his armored division at the perfect moment, either if the situation grew desperate enough to require reinforcements, or if the Resistance was on the brink of defeat, in which case Ludolf's armored walkers would drop down and ensure the defeat became total annihilation. The latter scenario was in fact what was playing out today, much to Vaas' delight, and if he were to admit, surprise. Even the First Order's highest ranking commanders were surprised by the speed and success of the First Order's recent battlefield initiatives, both in the Anoat sector and elsewhere.

However, Vaas had one piece of personal business to attend to before he departed. As he climbed into the cockpit of his signature walker, preparing to lead from the front as always, the General sat in the command seat and reached out, pressing a button to activate his comm system. The blue screen came to life instantly in front of him, basking his face in a glowing azure hue as the rest of the cockpit remained dark, no other systems currently activated. Ludolf typed in a certain frequency he had come to know by heart, a series of numbers which very few people knew. It was the personal frequency of Marzena Choi, General Vaas' lover and closest confidant, a relationship that was beginning to circulate in rumors on the public level. Ludolf waited patiently in front of the screen, anticipating seeing Marzena's soft face on the other end at any moment. When he saw notification that his image was being recieved, Ludolf upturned his cheeks in a calm smile.

"Hello darling. I'm about to depart to finish a bit of business. I do hope you're well."

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 7 of 30
Objective: Bring Your Own Objective (BYOO)
Location: Tropis-on-Varonat

Sometimes martyrs died for a cause they believed in.

Other times, it was necessary to orchestrate their deaths so that they became a martyr for your cause... as opposed to theirs.

Captain Kasshu's men had released one of the two transports that had been locked down at Varonat due to certain discrepancies in their paperwork. In the case of the one, those turned out to be clerical errors due to sloppy record keeping. Freighters rarely had crews who felt that paperwork was a priority.

In the case of the other transport, those discrepancies were looking to be more and more criminal in nature. The more questions that the stormtroopers asked, the more complex the lie. The further the web spun.

He'd stowed away aboard the freighter twenty minutes earlier, without anyone being the wiser. His presence nothing more than a shadow on the wall. And twenty minutes was all that the young Pantoran needed in order to put the final pieces of this mystery together.

There was spice tucked behind the crates in the cargo hold, and glitterstem stuffed in sealed packages concealed in the ventilation shafts. The flight plan they'd used indicated that they'd arrived at Varonat from Mustafar, but the time involved for that distance didn't quite match up with the model hyperdrive they were using. And the amount of fuel suggested a much greater distance.

Kessel would have been about right.

Which meant that the carbon scoring along the ventral portions of the freighter's hull was likely the result of a scuffle with the Silver Sanctum Coalition.

He'd come looking for answers, but he left behind one thing. A small blaster pistol. It was a common Czerka model, frequently turning up in all manner of bad situations. The barrel was still warm. Trace odors of tibana gas could be picked out.

The weapon had recently been used.

Without a word, the young Pantoran slipped back into the shadows.

Local Administrator T'Lok was going to hold a townhall this evening, together with Captain Kasshu, to discuss the new security measures and answer any concerns or questions from the people. The Citizens for a Brighter Tomorrow intended to come out in support of the Supreme Leader and the Free Nation State League was planning a political protest.

Everything that the Pantoran had just set in motion should provide some good discussion points for this evening's event...

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Cloud City, Bespin
[ 4/20 ]

The meeting had seemed to not be starting for a while. [member="Natasi Fortan"] had dismissed herself from the impromptu assembly of moffs, and Corvo soon followed suit. With a quiet beeping from his holotranceiver, Corvo pulled out his datapad and followed suit with Natasi.

"Moff Fel, Miss Choi.", Corvo said as he bowed his head and separated himself.

Activating the pad, a small hologram emerged from the thin metal pad. A clear blue figure stood, occasionally flickering as the signal scrambled itself. The armor clad figure removed it's helmet to show it's face.

"All is well sir, the plan is being executed without error. We stand by for your signal.", the figure reported. While Corvo had faith that he and his colleagues would convince the representatives of the system to submit to the rule of the First Order, he was never without a contingency plan.

As quickly as he received the message, it had ended. He now had Bespin nobles to address and small talk to make.

"Ah, there you are!"

[member="Max Fel"] | [member="Marzena Choi"]

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 8 of 30
Objective: Bring Your Own Objective (BYOO)
Location: Tropis-on-Varonat

Rei Marlo was the name of the Ortolan who ran the space port.

At one time, she'd been a proud member of the Rebel Alliance. After the defeat the Second Battle of Ryloth, the portly woman had grudgingly fled into the shadows of the freight and cargo industry. Moving from place to place, job to job, she'd almost literally stumbled into a position here at Varonat where she'd been able to settle down, have some semblance of a normal life, and become a part of the community she was living in.

She knew spice was coming through the system, and she hated it, but she felt as though more good than harm was done because the open nature of the Varonat space port made it able to easily accommodate the Resistance, the Underground... she was a believer in lost causes and liked to champion the underdog.

She was dead now.

And, as he departed the presence of the Knight of Ren, Captain Kasshu couldn't shake the suspicion that the boy had already been aware of that fact, even before the stormtrooper captain had made his report.

Varonat's own security forces led the investigation into Rei's death. No assistance from the First Order was requested or required, and Kasshu's men gave the investigators a wide berth for what they had to do.

They went to the local magistrate for a warrant and served it on the suspected smuggler's in time for the arrest to make the 6 o'clock news. Along with a blaster believed to be the murder weapon, spice and glitterstem was dragged out for the media to see. That would all become part of the story, the narrative of which delved into the falsified flight plan filed by the smuggler crew.

The local 'talking heads' took it from there and, by the time the administrator's townhall kicked off that evening, people were already talking.

Talking home space security.

Talking regulation.

Talking about whether Varonat ought to reach out for assistance in tackling the clear and present danger that the unchecked presence of piracy represented to their way of life. The very real threat now made manifest among them.

"My fellow Varonatians, I want to assure you now that I will make this planet safe again. And that starts TONIGHT. As we remember Rei Marlo, I call for a referendum to be voted on by the people, to ask the First Order for assistance in securing our home space..."

Sitting inside the aerospace control tower of the star port, the young Knight of Ren watched the holovid feed of the administrator's speech that was taking place in the town below. The brash proposal, which would have likely been met with strong resistance just hours earlier, was now met by applause. And the boy couldn't help but smile at the irony.

Rei Marlo had become a martyr for the First Order.

And it would kill her to know that.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 21/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

"You have to remember that I was the exception, not the rule, in the system of First Order elite sports schools. I won the Caladon Prize, which could only be awarded once in a high schooler's career, usually their graduation year"

"What the kark is the Caladon Prize for?"

"Even though it's one of those high school sports awards that fly under the radar if you're not actually in the elite sports schools, attended one, or a direct relative of someone who attended an elite sports school, the Caladon Prize is awarded to the female elite sports school student who best conciliated sports and academics. The Merrimack Prize is its male counterpart; in practice both prizes are awarded to the academic valedictorians of the entire system"

"In what way were you the exception in the system? The way I understood the system was that you didn't need to have a fighting chance to become a valedictorian, even in an impoverished school district, to have a fighting chance to win either the Merrimack or the Caladon Prize"

"I suppose that podracing will become the next symbol of status in the First Order bread-and-circuses schools, hence why I wish to learn anything I can about said system - because I may have to visit it at some point"

Podracing, the newest kid on the bread-and-circuses block, has been lavished attention like it was promised to greater glories. As if it was the Chosen One of a prophecy. But podracing is different from others. Podracing is highly dangerous and expensive, even more so than equestrian sports, to run as a training facility. May it be that they train on Lanteeb, all right, but unlike most other sports, for which it seems relatively inexpensive to sift through athletes, podracing must get it right from the first shot and recruit from an older age. Nevertheless, it's still interesting to someone part of the bread-and-circuses system of the First Order to know how the system operates and to know what goes on behind the scenes. Plus the First Order has generally been favorable of letting the people that are or were part of the system know the inner workings of how it operates, so long as they do not know the purpose of the system itself.

"Come to think of it, podracing is expensive to run. So I suppose that the First Order team would train away from the main pyramid and instead recruit podracers from the same process used to recruit TIE fighter pilots"

"But the salutatorian and the third-ranking student in the system won silver and bronzium medals respectively; the Merrimack and Caladon Prizes came with gold medals. I know the system is rife with criticism, that so many especially in Alliance and Kathol Outback territory, think we operate those schools at a hit-and-run level"

"When they say hit-and-run, they mean that you hit a ball and run around a field for it, not that you attack and then make a swift retreat"

 

[Marzena Vaas]

Cloud City, Summit
Post 13
Allies: [member="Ludolf Vaas"]

Marzena continued to converse with the two noblemen, explaining her new duties as a cultural ambassador for the First Order, and doing her part to attract attention to the Bell Center for the Arts. Though her smile never faltered, she could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest, the sound seeming to echo in her mind. She listened as best she could to the two young nobles, but it was proving difficult to ignore her growing anxiety. Marzena gently clasped her hands together in an attempt to keep them from shaking. A pang of dizziness made her sway on the spot, and a hand gently reached up towards her forehead. It was as though a sudden wave of nausea came crashing upon her, and the color drained from her face.

“Are you alright, Miss Choi?”

“Oh, yes...” She managed to say, offering an apologetic smile. “Please excuse me.”

Her high heeled shoes brought her a few steps away, and she turned her back towards the two gentlemen. Marzena drew in a shaky breath and pushed it out steadily. She tried to tell herself that it was just anxiety... but she knew full well that anxiety alone was not the cause. Her slender hand moved towards her stomach, without even thinking, but her attention was then drawn to a beeping coming from the inside of her handbag. There were very few that knew her frequency, and she felt her stomach turn again in anticipation. Marzena steeled her nerves, threw her shoulders back, and walked confidently towards the conference rooms. A moment later she was sitting in an empty room, her datapad out in front of her.

Ludolf’s face was soon visible, etched out in bright blue light before her. A deep sense of comfort and relief fell over Marzena, and her expression softened considerably as she looked at the holoprojection.

“Hello, love.” She said, her voice quiet, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “I was hoping you would call, you know how I worry when you’re away.”

For a moment her gaze dropped down towards her lap, avoiding Ludolf’s deep blue gaze.

“I’m... Well, we need to talk. I had a rather... shocking discovery last evening, just before returning home from Dargul.” Her voice trembled, “I was hoping to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can wait that long.” Marzena’s dark eyes turned back towards the image of Ludolf’s face, her lip quivered, she was desperately trying to keep a torrent of emotion at bay.

Her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to fall at any moment. How she wished she could have reached out to hold Ludolf’s strong hand. For a moment she was silent, searching for the right way to reveal her news. But in the end, the words simply fell from her lips, her voice spoke barely above a whisper.

“...I’m pregnant.”

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 20
Bespin

Sioux closed the door, shutting the gentle sound of chatter and tinkling music out. She plugged her datapad into the conference table and activated it. "As you can see, elements of the First Fleet are deployed around Bespin. And -- just a moment, ma'am. Priority communication from the War Office." She glanced up; Natasi had spun around from the window, her eyebrows furrowing. Sioux suppressed an eye roll and checked her messages. "It's nothing to do with -- him," Sioux said impatiently. "We've received confirmation that the Supreme Leader is on Bespin already. His private security forces have secured his location." Sioux glanced up at Natasi, whose eyes had closed.

There are days when I could just shove her off the balcony.

The principal private secretary returned to her discussion of the security arrangements. "The Supreme Leader has forwarded his plans to address the summit. Some sort of announcement. Do you know anything about it?"