Public Sith Empire Exploratory Fleet Bane’s Blade; Operation Force Factor

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

A den of filth. A institution of sin and debauchery. A world that cried out from neglect and over indulgence. Chyrra was a world that had fallen into the sights of the Eleventh Sith Empire at long last, a neutral world that had fallen between the borders of the ruinous High Republic and our glorious Empire. Producers of Spice, Chyrra was a free world that would sell this substance to anyone. Pharma companies, cartels, manufacturers, it did not matter so long as credits flowed as freely as the spice. It was sickening, their greed. Their need to simply treat a substance as precious as Spice as a commodity to be traded to those who would pollute it for base pleasures of the flesh. No, today Chyrra would learn. They would learn that they were a world that had been spared the rod for far too long.

Sirens blared in the launch bay of the Sith Destroyer. A sound that intentionally muffled the sin of second thoughts. The sin of cowardice in the face of glory. It commanded order, readiness, that all would find their assigned stations and descend to deliver righteousness at the tip of a blade or blaster. This is where we would find him. Legionnaire Voytger. Another drone in a sea of red and black plastoid armor. A man who had only finished his training a month ago and had now shipped off to his first real assignment. Being the opening salvo in bringing a mining planet into compliance.

"The objectives are simple." a helmetless senior Infantry officer said. A grizzled man of a dozen campaigns stood inside the a dropship overlooking his young unblooded legionnaires, the sirens muffled from the metal walls of the ship.

"This is not an invasion! We are not here to occupy! We are to teach these degenerate scum a simple lesson! That if they are to sell Spice they will sell it to us and us alone! No more dealing with Cartels! No more selling to Jedi scum!" The man spoke with conviction, as if the deed had already been done. As if the depraved ones below had already been defeated. As if victory was but a guaranteed fact. It had swelled Christoph to see such bravery and certainty radiating from his commander.

"We are to drop below at the Mining Conglomerate's Headquarters and Operating Facilities. Despoil and destroy operations and take high ranking personnel. Operatives are in the city tracking down other VIPs and their relations. Our unit will be hitting the Spice Caverns and their main base of operations in the field!." it was time. The hour to earn the glory of the Eternal Sith Empire. To bring honor to her and her glorious Empire.

"GLORY TO THE TALON EMPRESS! GLORY TO SRINA TALON! GLORY TO THE SITH!!" A crescendo of voices rang out in haunting unison after the commander had called upon and cried out her name. The Empress feared and beloved by all.

"HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!" Christoph and his brothers and sister barked in return like a pack of ravenous wolves.

"LAUNCH!!" As if she had willed it herself. The shuttle shunted forward out of the hanger bay and into the void of space.

Moments passed, atmosphere and friction rattled the hull followed by the familiar sound of heavy blaster cannons firing into the swarm of Sith shuttles planet bound. It wouldn't matter, none of their efforts would matter. For they were on the side of sin and debauchery and Christoph and his battle brethren were on the side of the angels. Avenging Celestials sent to bring the word of and might of her name Empress Srina Talon. They were already dead, they had just not been grieved yet.

With a hard THUD the shuttle hit the ground, Christoph stood from his seat and with bated breath the shuttle ramp opened to an ocean of light and color. A green blaster bolt of emerald jade sang forward and struck the wall behind him. Singeing it black.

"MOVE!" A trooper cried out before a blaster bolt from a corporate security guard silenced them forever. Their body had hit the ground with a sickening thwack before the smell of burnt flesh and plastoid filled Christoph's senses.

Pressing forward it was clear they had made it to a massive camp filled with semi-permanent structures and facilities directly outside the Spice Caverns. The mission was simple. Punish the heretics, raid their facilities, take their spice, destroy their equipment, slaughter anyone who got in their way, man woman or child. Miners and their families would bleed so that glory and honor would be brought to the name of the Talon Empress.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Christoph Kudmol Voytger

I lingered within the farthest shadows of the hangar bay, precisely where I wished to be; unseen, unnoticed, little more than another stain of darkness cast by the cold durasteel walls and the towering hulls of warships preparing for slaughter. The air reeked of engine exhaust, sweat, and fanaticism as the soldiers below roared their praises in thunderous unison, chanting vows of conquest and glorious adorations for their Sith Empress, Srina Talon .

As I continued to watch the Sith soldiers and the small clustered circles of Masters standing beside their obedient Apprentices, a crooked grin spread across my lips beneath the shadows of my hood. "Such loyal little puppies," I whispered in mocking admiration, my voice dripping with venomous amusement, but only music to my ears, "their Empress should be so very proud of how eagerly they bare their teeth whenever she rattles the chain."

A quiet laugh escaped me then, cold and sharp as a vibroblade. "I do wonder; when she throws the stick, do they fetch it for her as well," I mused whilst I moved toward my assigned transport shuttle. Still, I had not studied these new breed of Sith closely enough to render final judgment upon them; personal dissections, after all, would come much later.

The journey to the planet's surface was dreadfully uneventful, though the Sith soldiers crammed within the shuttle seemed determined to transform the silence into a contest of swollen ego and blood-drunk fantasies; soldiers, all around me, boasted of the enemies they would butcher.

Apprentices muttered desperate promises of glory to impress their Masters.

Masters themselves spoke with that same tiresome arrogance Sith always wore before a battle they believed destiny had already handed to them.

When at last the transport slammed violently into the scorched landing zone, the bay doors split open with a hiss of steam and the entire rabid pack surged outward into the chaos beyond.

I exited the shuttle without urgency, walking calmly into the slaughter while bodies collapsed around me in twitching heaps of armor and burnt flesh. Blaster bolts shrieked past my head, some close enough for their heat to brush against my cheek, yet I weaved through them almost absently, the Dark Side guiding my steps while the battlefield drowned itself in screams.

My own lightsaber had been lost long ago to time, betrayal, and ruin, leaving me to search the dead for a replacement worthy enough to spill blood in my grasp once more. Then I saw it, a powered-down hilt lying beside the mangled corpse of a fallen Sith Apprentice whose eyes still stared upward in frozen disbelief.

I extended my hand slowly, and through the Force the weapon tore itself from up off the ground and snapped into my palm with satisfying weight, as though the battlefield itself had offered me tribute.

I examined the fallen Apprentice's lightsaber carefully within my grasp before igniting it with a sharp snap-hiss, the crimson blade flickering unevenly as I waved it through the smoke-filled air of the battlefield. Every movement revealed another flaw; poor balance, unstable resonance, weak craftsmanship born from impatience rather than discipline, and I could not help the look of disgust that crept across my face.

"Pathetic," I hissed bitterly, lowering the blade slightly as its hollow hum echoed in my ears, "a poorly crafted mockery to the only true and reliable companion a Sith shall ever possess."

 

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

Christoph had seen Sith before. All his life he had spent it preparing to be of service the priesthood on his homeworld. Dark cloaked scholars and monks dedicated to the Eternalism of the Sith and the nature of the Dark Side. Men, women, and beings that were certainly intimidating to gaze upon, for they were the Force's Chosen. The ones who would usher in a better and brighter Galaxy through faith and doctrine. Robed force users who carried out the dogmatic and pure teachings of The Red Gate.

But Christoph had never seen this before. He had never even envisioned in his most vivid of dreams or haunting nightmares. Having taken refuge behind a large bolder with his squad, Christoph had a moment. A mere fleeting moment to see her.

She moved like a predator. Every single step calculated with an otherworldly grace that radiated a sinister aura of violence. She wasn't like the Sith back home. Not the hooded shades of monastic clerics reading sermons from profaned grimoires and holocrons. It was almost hypnotic to look upon her visage, that of an apex predator in its prime. One that need not skulk or cling to the shadows. The mere presence of it was enough to send prey and lesser predators scattering about like scared pups. She was beautiful. Like looking upon a master crafted painting imbued with the blood of its creator.

He wanted to serve her, to kill for her, to die for her. How could he not? How could anyone gaze upon a creature who belonged to the rightful masters of this galaxy and not be moved to commit violence for them. Everything in his body told him to drop to his knees and swear fealty to her. Christoph had begun to step towards her almost hypnotized by a Sith so perfect and supreme than any other he had ever seen.

"VOYTGER!! DOWN!" a rough and hard hand and slammed onto Christoph's shoulder. Shattering his perception of time and space sending him crashing back to reality.

Blaster bolts and the din of battle came raging back to him. Christoph had to fight, he had to steady his focus once more towards the mission. He could not die here on some mining planet against heretics and degenerate scum that polluted this world through the sin of existence. No, he would die on a more glorious front if he had anything to say about it.

Resistance had been harder than expected. Sth Forces were caught strewn about a front of two or so kilometers long taking refuge behind whatever they could get. Boulders, broken mining equipment, downed gunships and shuttles. It didn't matter so long as it provided cover from the oncoming storm of bolts and bombs. It had made sense as to why resistance was so fierce here.

Corporate logic was to keep your on site workers and their families in housing further away from the caves. Make the product harder to steal or sabotage from disgruntled miners and security forces. The bulk of their forces would be concentrated here. An easily dug tench system with all their equipment a hundred meters away provided security and cover for their operation. It had to go.

"Thresh! Konrad! Bunti! Voytger! Orders from the top have stated there will be no fire mission for the trench line! Misfires could hit the caverns. Stim Protocol. Die with honor." Like selecting names out of a hat, Christoph's heart sank. So be it.

A fireteam from every squad along the front was chosen to be given stimulates, a melee weapon, and a pistol to charge and rush the trenches while the rest provided fire from the rear. They could not risk orbital bombardement of the caverns. So a suicidal charge devoid of care for casualties was the best option. Removing his helmet, Christoph dropped his blaster rifle and gripped a vibro-hatchet and a heavy blaster pistol in his hands. Watching as the squad field medic went around to his fire team one. They were injected into the neck with a cocktail of drugs and stimulates ment to dull pain, heighten aggression, and increase adrenaline. It was all but instant the effects.

A loud ringing of sirens blared from tech troopers backpacks, but Christoph didn't hear it. As soon as it was time and the signal was given, his feet had already began to stride. A howl of screams echoed across the front as men and women chemically altered on stims rushed the front trench a hundred meters away and closing. All Christoph could see was red as he lifted his pistol and fired as he sprinted towards what may be his doom. Sprinting until his heart pumped battery acid into his veins and his lungs burned. Closing and closing one step at a time.

He wondered in those last moments of sanity if the Sith he saw earlier would notice him. If she would see his deeds for her and be proud.


R'ayne Asara

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: No Man's Land, Chyrra
Objective: Observe and resist
Tags: Christoph Kudmol Voytger , R'ayne Asara

A deep haze of confusion descended over the trenches. The lines between friend and foe were being blurred, and weapons of slaughter culled men by the dozen. All of this witnessed on a viewscreen from the safety of a bunker in the lowest levels of the corporate safehouses. Chairmen of corporations, the de facto heads of state of this planet, were bickering on how best to repel the invaders. Their words were like the annoying buzzing of gnats which deserved to be swatted.

"We must hold the line until we can evacuate the city!" One chairman said, his slimy tendrils thoroughly disheveled by his shouting.

"Throwing too many resources at civilian interests would be a net negative on our returns for a successful operation..." A clinical-voiced droid translated for a chairwoman.

"And you! What of the support you promised us for co-operation?! Why are we allowing your people safe haven on this planet??"

In the corner of the bunker sat a hooded figure. She was the Supreme Leader of a Dark Jedi cult, one formed to infiltrate planets. She was here to corrupt this world, but to do so, it must remain free of Sith influence. To lose this key hub of trade and influence to these raiders would set them back weeks. Something that galled T'zarna far more than dealing with the gnats.

"Worry not men and women of the board. The Fallen remember their benefactors," T'zarna buzzed, keeping her head down as she continued. "We will hold off the main advance. That should allow you to complete all objectives in short order."

Before long, a transport aircraft large enough to carry only a few squads was joining the defenders reinforcements. It held no troopers, no tanks, and no walkers. Instead, the hooded figures strutted behind T'zarna, igniting red blades in unison behind their leader. They were waiting for the queue from their leader, a queue that came when she leveled her own saber!

With a single motion she commanded The Fallen to advance with the next wave of troopers. Corporate security forces and private military would be reinforced by Dark Jedi hand picked for the task of standing against The Sith. It wasn't about killing opposition, but rather slowing them so that there would be time to escape.

Now the battle plans would be tested, and darksiders would be forced against one another. Only the strongest force weilders would survive this.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Christoph Kudmol Voytger - T'zarna Khab


I moved through the battlefield as though the chaos itself bent its knee before me, each step measured, each stroke of the borrowed crimson blade painted with dreadful elegance. The screams of dying soldiers became a chorus beneath the roar of blaster fire, yet none could touch me.

One fool raised his rifle and fired directly at my chest, only for me to bat the bolt aside with a flick of my wrist so effortless it bordered on insulting. Before the man could comprehend his failure, I extended my hand and seized his throat through the Force, ripping him from the ground and dragging him helplessly across the scorched duracrete toward me; catching his throat in my grasp with predatory calm while terror flooded his widening eyes.

In one fluid motion, I spun him around and coiled my arm tightly around his neck, forcing his back against my chest whispering into his ear with sinister and mocking tones, "I appreciate your participation in my survival" as I used him as a living shield against the trio of enemies ahead. Their blaster fire erupted without hesitation, bolts tearing into their own comrade's flesh as he writhed and gargled in my grasp. I could feel his heartbeat hammering wildly against my forearm while I redirected several of the incoming shots with precise movements of the lightsaber, sending crimson streaks back into the shooters.

One bolt pierced a man through the eye, another burned through a throat, and the third carved into a chest plate with enough force to hurl its owner lifelessly into the dirt. The battlefield fell silent around me for a fleeting moment, broken only by the choking breaths of the dying shield I held. When his usefulness expired, I discarded the corpse at my feet like refuse and looked around through the smoke, draped in death and shadow as though born from the war itself saying proudly, "That was amusing."

Through the veil of smoke and burning debris, I catch sight of a Legionnaire clad in brilliant red armor carving through the battlefield with terrifying precision, and for the first time amidst the slaughter, my attention is stolen completely away from my own kill count. The soldier moves with the cold discipline of a veteran forged by countless campaigns, every blaster shot deliberate, every strike efficient and merciless as bodies collapse around them like wheat before a scythe.

There is no hesitation in their movements, no panic, no wasted fury; only ruthless mastery sharpened by war itself. I find myself genuinely impressed, a rare sensation that curls within me like a serpent awakening from slumber, and I watch them tear through enemy lines beneath the glow of explosions as though the battlefield belongs solely to them.

A faint grin touches my lips beneath the shadow of my hood as I move forward through the carnage toward this soldier's position, already deciding that once victory is secured and the screams of the dying finally fade into silence, I must meet the warrior in great lengths hidden beneath that crimson armor.

 

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

It was like swimming in the concept of rage. A sickening chemically induced feeling that grew hotter and hotter. A singing and searing pain that began to scream bloody murder into his amygdala. Every single part of Christoph's brain that could experience the idea of rational
and intelligent thought went dark and every base and primal reptilian urge told him to charge forward and kill. To see the blood of his enemies spilled before him as they choked upon air and blood. So thats what he did. He ran.

Christoph ran until his heart pounded battery acid and fire into his veins. Many of his comrades had not survived the initial push. Heavy blaster rifle fire, grenade, and mortars had turned many of them into severed limbs, exploded torsos, and red stains upon no man's land. Yet Christoph was lucky. Diving into the trench with reckless abandonment from its lip he tackled what looked to be a Gungan man to the ground. He didn't bother to check, after the first few cries of resistance they were immediately silenced by the vibroaxe clutched in his hand. A wet and sickening crunch of impact and death. The cocktail still screamed in his mind. It still sang of death and decay, of blood and fury. Lifting his pistol Christoph fired three shots into the nearest man. A human from what little of his senses were left. They had all just become shapes to him really. Bags of meat and bone with muscle and nerves connecting them.

He let out howl as he fought his way through the trench. He fought until he realized he clawed back some form of sanity. Then he realized something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

He looked back his mind still flooded with chemicals and saw ships touch down and figures with guns and sabers step out to engage his brethren. The line was fixed as they fired back at the newcomers. What were they he wondered? They weren't Jedi. They weren't other Sith. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that Christoph and whoever ever else barely made it over the trench was alone for now. That they had to fight if they wanted to survive.


Back on the frontline, it was a surprise to see an unknown force touch down and join the fight. Nowhere in the briefings and intel had it been suggested that rogue force users and paramilitary organizations outside of corporate security would be guarding this place. But that was war, there had to be a response. Along the front of broken cover of rocks and abandoned equipment. The Sith Line began to set up their gun emplacements. It was not ideal for them to hold position and lay down fire, but charging directly into a new enemy force with a reinforced trench behind them would solve nothing and get men needlessly killed.

Trained teams of gunners, mortars, and grenadiers moved quickly under fire to set up whatever they could however they could. A line needed to be established or that army in no man's land was going to overrun their freshly had gains and positions. With some crews set but most still panicking and rushing to set up. A small fraction began to lay down fire and explosives directly aimed at the forces in no man's land. They had to break through eventually. At least Christoph hoped that they would.

T'zarna Khab R'ayne Asara
(apologies for the wait. The little one got sick and I had to tend to him. im all back now though)

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: No Man's Land, Chryya
Objective: Observe and resist
Tags: R'ayne Asara Christoph Kudmol Voytger

Soldiers charged with defending the frontline were being slaughtered by incoming Sith Legionnaires, such losses were to be expected. These corporate mercenaries and militia troops were trained moreso for civil unrest than war against an such an elite group of veteran soldiers. Their lines were only holding thus far because of sheer weight of numbers. Numbers that were dwindling by the minute in many places.

The situation was dire, and holding the city behind her was near to impossible. T'zarna's objective was not to protect the city or turn the advancing tide, but to allow shuttles to break the atmosphere. The city behind her held one of the largest spaceports on Chryya, a place the elite would use to escape The Sith.

The Fallen Order had no care for the rich corporate leaders, only for the depths of their coffers. If they were slaughtered by the advancing horde, corrupting this sector would be set to square one. The web of The Fallen must remain intact, not to be trampled on by the boot of other Darksiders.

T'zarna watched as her platoon of Dark Jedi began to reinforce the lines of the trenches. They would do well in the close quarters hell of this battlefield. No Man's Land however, that would be hers to claim. Even with the Sith Legionnaires making good time up the front, they would be hard pressed to get passed her.

Her gait wasn't slow or anxious, it was quick and feverish. She had to skid to a stop as some of the red-clad legionnaires seemed to form a wall ahead of her. They had blasters and vibroweapons drawn, all ready to carve hunks out of her exoskeleton. She could still remember the pain of fighting the great Lirka Ka, how her carapace was split open like the shell of a crab. Never again would she be so easily dispatched.

In a split second, the half-blood insect held out her hands. Her palms pointed towards the ground. She reached out to the force, bending it to her will as if were a puppet. In a moment the ground was rocked, and the yellow insectoid was sent skyward like a rocket!

A wave of kinetic energy had erupted from her palms, creating a small divot in the soil where T'zarna once stood. Rocks and clods of dirt were kicked up, staggering some of those standing too close to her. She had created an arch for herself to travel in, going over the line of soldiers. Once she landed, she ignited her blade, swinging it with two hands like a claymore made of light.

The plasma blade clashed with vibroweapons specifically made to clash with sabers, the legions being equipped for dealing with force users. She kicked one man in his knee, her claw-like foot making a sickening impact on his joint. Before she could finish him off, another man raised a hatchet. She caught his hand in hers, before ramming her cross guard saber through his stomach.

Rage bubbled in her veins, anger becoming her strength. Whenever the hybrid battled, her fury and zeal went unchecked. She became a torrent of energy that swept over the battlefield. Wild saber swings and incredible might, all focused at her foes.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Christoph Kudmol Voytger - T'zarna Khab

The screams of the dying were swallowed beneath the roar of the storm around us as I carved my path through the militia ranks, my lightsaber casting dark mahogany light across the shattered duracrete ground like the glow of some misshapened infernal furnace. I moved as a phantom wrapped in shadow and wrath, the blade severing flesh while the air itself trembling beneath the weight of the dark side coursing through my veins.

Men were hurled aside with contemptuous gestures of my hand, their bones splintering against durasteel and hardened duracrete walls as fear poisoned their final breaths, and those foolish enough to rush me met deaths so swift they scarcely understood they had already fallen.

The scent of scorched flesh and ionized blood hung thick around me while the last militia soldier collapsed at my feet, his lifeless eyes fixed upward in silent horror; yet before I could step over the corpse, something beyond the battlefield caught my attention off to my left.

I tilted my head slightly, the dark mahogany glow of my blade reflecting within my eyes as I spoke in morbid fascination, "And what do we have hidden over there, tucked away like a little diamond amongst the blackened coal of your kin?"

I allowed the blade of my lightsaber to fade into darkness with a sharp hiss, the sudden silence somehow more unsettling than the carnage itself, before stepping over the still-warm corpse sprawled at my feet and making my way through the smoke-choked street toward the lone building untouched by the battle raging around it.

Blaster fire echoed in the distance like thunder within a graveyard while ash drifted through the night air, yet this structure stood unmarred amidst the ruin, as though the Force itself had curled unseen fingers around it to preserve it for some greater purpose.

A crooked smile touched my lips beneath the shadow of my hood as I glanced toward the Sith soldiers standing nearby, weapons swiveling in search for galloping prey. "Fate, favored omen; perhaps merely terrible luck," I mused in playful tones, my own voice almost amused, "whichever it may be, you shall do quite nicely."

Then, without pause or warning, the warmth vanished from my expression entirely, replaced by something cold and merciless as I fixed both men beneath my gaze. "You two will protect this building with your lives," I said in dead serious tones, each word heavy as a funeral bell. "Its fate and your fate are now intertwined. Are we clear?"

 

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

Another bolt fired, another kill. It felt so light in his hand the blaster pistol. That was the only thing he could remember. Just how light and easy it was. A simple pull and the older human man in front of him collapsed under a pile of his own weight, looking up at the sky choking on air and heated vapor where his lung had been struck. Christoph never even thought of the implications nor ramifications of ending him. It was just another moment of service, another moment of violence, and thats all this day was.

Violence.

Deep within the trench system by himself, Christoph knew he needed to get out of here if he had any hope of survival. He couldn't formulate a plan, he could barely string together a coherent set of thoughts much less plan an elaborate escape into no man's land and back to friendly lines. Would he even want that? Could he go back? It would be cowardice. A sin in the eyes of Purgia and the Red Gate. A sin in the eyes of his fellow legionnaires. Christoph would not allow himself to be labeled as such. Not on his first mission, not now, not ever. He knew that he had to do something. He just couldn't think as to what that was.

The cocktail of stimulates still raged in his blood and brain simply telling him to let go. Let the rage consume him and give into the craven need for carnage and death. Pushing back against it Christoph decided to keep focus the only way he knew how.

"As I serve The Red Gate, I am it's Greatest Defender." He had to grunt the first few words as the cocktail ran through his speech centers.

Approaching him with a billy club a screaming Nemodian approached only for Christoph to raise his axe hand and catch the attack across the handle of the weapon. A heavy thud of impact rocked Christoph's arm and he could feel his bone ache softly with the hit. Letting out a scream, Christoph kept the club locked against his axe, driving forward and pressing his pistol against the alien's gut before pulling the trigger over and over again pinning the Nemodian's corpse against the wall.

"As I pray to Eternity, the Dark Side is only with me." Christoph panted out each word as he unpinned the dead man and let their body crumple onto the mud.

Approaching a small earthen bunker built into the trench system, Christoph paused for a moment to gaze upon. Made of wood, dirt, clay and sandbags. He could hear the sounds of a heavy blaster crew inside. The telltale sounds of heavy blaster bolts firing down range. Reaching into his utility belt, as he stood just at the lip of the corner between the trench and the bunker. Christoph pulled a fragmentation grenade. Without so much as a second thought he primed and activated it.

"In the dark, in the shadows, she is with us. Our Eternal Mother. She is with us in our spirit and in our deeds." Holding the active and live grenade, Christoph's words became more and more clear as the zealotry of his mind pushed back the numbing chemicals.

With a few seconds left Christoph tossed the grenade into the bunker and a second later the explosion went off and the crew was silent. Stepping around the corner, Christoph gave it no mind as he plugged the wounded corporate security's bodies with blaster bolts to finish them.

He looked up and saw it. An old E Web Pattern style blaster cannon. A timeless model that had been adapted and fitted since the days of Sidious. He looked up and saw a platoon of Dark Jedi moving forward to clash with the forward line of his brothers and sisters. He had to do something and this was it. Mounting the cannon he checked its systems and it was clear to fire. Leveling the heavy gun he pointed it at the flurry of Force Users seventy meters away knowing well this could be his end. He saw what looked to be their ring leader carving away and swinging their blade like a whirling dervish of light and death. Pulling back the primer, Christoph let loose a fully automatic spray of red blaster bolts from behind directly at the platoon and directly at their ring leader trying his best to catch them off guard to just give his friends more time to establish their line and get more forces to collapse the trench.

Elsewhere things had been interesting. Two Sith Troopers looked upon a woman with murder and death within their eyes. Fear could almost be smelled in the air as her words dripped from her tongue like ice cold drops of venom.

"Your will shall be done, my liege." The Trooper said with a salute. What was she planning?

The lines of the Sith had slowly begun to form and soon armor and another wave of Troopers would come to reinforce the front and push back the trench. They just had to hold.

T'zarna Khab R'ayne Asara [

 

[R'ayne Asara]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Christoph Kudmol Voytger - T'zarna Khab

The eastern flank was a wound carved into the city's flesh, its broken towers jutting from the earth like the ribs of some long-dead titan. Smoke drifted through the ruined streets in black veils, and amid the chaos I found the scattered remnants of nearby forces; Sith soldiers wandering leaderless through the wreckage, their discipline frayed by bloodshed and chaos.

I strode among them like a specter cloaked in midnight, my presence alone cutting through their uncertainty. With curt commands and the cold authority of the dark side, I bent them back into formation. Squads merged into ranks, ranks into a defensive line stretching across the eastern approaches.

Their armor glimmered beneath the dying light as they locked themselves into position. They were not warriors to me in that moment, merely stones in a wall that could not be permitted to crumble.

From the shattered balcony of a ruined administrative spire, I watched the enemy beyond the city limits; observing their movements with predatory patience. Infantry assembled in disciplined blocks while their commanders were gathering strength for a counterattack, seeking to break the eastern flank and spill into the city through its weakest wound.

I felt their intent as one might feel distant thunder before a storm. A faint smile touched my lips beneath my hood. Let them come. Every barricade, every soldier, every shadow-cloaked alley had become a piece upon my board.

The enemy believed they were preparing an assault; they did not yet realize they were marching into a design I had already begun to weave around them like a tightening noose of darkness.

 

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

Dropping the E-Web, Christoph pulled away from it and could see help was on the horizon. Ships along the skyline had begun to come into focus. Fresh men, armor, and supplies. Fire support that would help them push over this initial barrier. With thunderous speed and intensity the ships made contact with the earth below and deposited their payload of men and machines. Armored Personnel Carriers, Light Walkers, and fresh platoons of men wielding flamers and blasters. The push had begun.

With the front line set and now in position, heavy blaster canon fire came screaming down the line. Snipers picked targets and what Christoph had noticed almost all but too late. Mortarmen began to rain down bombs from above directly where Christoph was staying. The bunkers and other hard points with the intention of collapsing the trench and enemy line. With a sprint Christoph ran from the bunker with a hot scorching scream of an explosion going off behind him. The force collapsed the earth and wood bunker and sent him flying into the opposite side of the trench. He had hit the wood paneling with a thud and everything went black for a few moments.

Seconds passed like hours and a dusty cough exhaled from Christoph's burning lungs. He took a brief moment to look around himself and see the fire and devastation brought by the incoming assault. Slowly he gripped his pistol and vibroaxe as he stood with a bit of a wobble in his legs. He paused before he realized he could not stand still for long. He was in enemy territory and he needed to make sure he survived to return to his squad. Marching down the trench line to the eastern flank he kept himself steady and blasted anything that was not a Sith.

Allied armor and men had touched down and began to push forward. Heavy guns and walkers blasted the trench line as another general push and charge was ordered. An ocean of red troopers spilled out and began to sally forth for the glory of the Sith empire. Soon the trench would be taken, the makeshift mining city would fall, and the spice mines would rightfully belong to the Sith Empire. These heretics and degenerates would mourn this day.

Tags T'zarna Khab R'ayne Asara