Dominion Tales Of The Empire #1 | Dominion of Archais

[The Contingency]

The grasslands of Archais stretch endlessly beneath the amber sunset, where rolling savannas give way to steep plateaus crowned with settlement. Rivers cut across fertile lowlands, watering thriving settlements of the Arkanian offshoots who once called this world their refuge, distant from the turmoil of the Core.

But that peace has ended.

With the fall of nearby Arkania, the shadow of the Empire has swept across Archais. Imperial banners now hang above the plateaus, stormtroopers patrol the markets, and TIEs streak across the skies. For some, the arrival of Imperial order brings stability and opportunity. For others, it is occupation, chains, and the death of freedom. And yet, beneath the weight of Imperial might, stories unfold.

Perhaps you are a loyal Imperial officer, tasked with pacifying the local population while wrestling with their own conscience. Maybe a Rebel agitator, whispering resistance in the taverns and stirring the restless youth to fight. Then there could also be fleeing Jedi, seeking refuge on the remote plateaus, hunted by both agents of the Dark Side Elite and bounty hunters. The locals are watching their world reshaped by forces beyond their control, they too have a story to tell. This thread is a tapestry of perspectives, a stage where any character may step forward and tell their tale. Whether grand or small, noble or vile, each story is a brushstroke in the wider mural of the Empire's dominion. This thread is one big BYOO.

Archais is occupied. Its people endure. Its skies burn with change.

What story will you tell in the shadow of the Empire?

​

 

[Romi Jade]

ARCHAIS

The horizon roared with the look and feel of occupation, there were even scattered trails of fire hanging in the sky from those who had barely outran the Empire's guns. On Archais, there was a homestead that was tucked against the endless grasslands, probably the only for awhile, many of its surroundings had been churned to mud by Imperial scouts that came and went without warning. There was a healer, a woman, who stacked firewood with one eye on the road, while a mercenary, a burly man, kept a blaster within arm's reach even at supper.

When Romi Jade emerged from the dusk, cloak torn, boots heavy with miles of flight, she carried with her the silence of pursuit. They didn't have much time. She crossed the threshold as though the house were already hers and sat at the rough table where bread rations and a thin stew waited. Without a doubt the Empire would soon be here too.

Everyone ate in quiet, but there was an edge of urgency; the lamplight shuddering with each distant tremor of fighting. There were traded whispers cracking at the tables, spoken of villagers already taken for questioning, of Jedi slipping through the grasslands, bounty hunters on their heels, of families who had run from Arkania only to find Archais braced for the same fate. Them there were curses thrown about the Core, curses over the wasted years of fighting that had led to nothing but more banners, more chains.

Romi -- she said little, her presence was likely more heavier than words, her silence mainly forcing the question -- when the Empire reached this homestead, would they endure it?

---
​

 

[Pious Tapp]

LIVEWIRE​

‘ISB Lieutenant Tapp. Prisoner transfer complete. He’s in cell 16. Be gentle with him.’

Funny thing for me to say, really. I wasn’t in the habit of being gentle.

ISB Lieutenant Tapp. Sounds pompous, doesn’t it? There’s a charmless quality to the name and the rank. I didn’t much care. I always got my target. I always closed the deal.

I dropped the keys to the military truck I’d seconded for my latest hunt on this backwater dust bowl of a planet onto the duty officer’s table. We were of the same rank, same inclination, both survivors of that baptism of mental fire, and in some cases actual fire, that was the sundering of Coruscant near two cycles back. I’d landed up in the ISB and he’d been landed with a desk job on our latest requisition.

Archais.

He gave me a disbelieving look. I wasn’t sure if he was mad at me for dropping the keys, not saluting, or just because he knew I was heading out on the next transit. More and more troops were making planetfall and those from the first wave were already being prepped to head out again, spreading imperial love across this corner of the core. There was a lot of love to go around, that was for sure.

I wasn’t going to stick around to interview the guy. That wasn’t my job this time. I had strict orders. Track him down, detain him, hand him over to the army. Some official, it seemed. Not sure if he was in the army or planetary administration. Heck, I didn’t even know his real name. Sometimes it’s like that. The docket has a number and a serial. No names. People talk. People talk to the wrong people. People talk to the wrong people about things they shouldn’t.

I sat down on the row of chairs that lined the side of the makeshift jail. These troop carriers come pre-fabbed with cells, ready for the detention of whomever the administration deems important enough to deny liberty. I looked at my data pad, wiping the dust from its screen. A small chip appeared in the corner. A tiny crack. I’d need to see to that.

Cracks aren’t good. Not on buildings. Not on starships. Not on data pads and definitely not in people. Those kinds of cracks are fatal. You can plug a gap, solder a panel, but people? Those cracks only get bigger.

The desk officer, who I later found out was named Leeper, sat back, casual as anything, and lit up an iho. He caught my eye, recognising the height and angle of my right eyebrow. That consternation-filled look that quietly uttered ‘really?’

He offered his excuses, smoke billowing from his lungs and nose.

Leeper said, ‘I’m on my break, lieutenant.’ Or words to that effect. I decided to save the chiding for later.

One of the perks and one of the curses of the job was the summary discipline I could deal out to detracting personnel. We were told we could even target superiors if it was warranted. Nobody was foolish enough to try it though. Marching up to the Director or one of the Moffs and crying against the Empire before blasting their throats out with a service pistol was a guaranteed way to end up missing or quicker yet dead and missing.

I decided to give this one a miss. Occupations wear down the occupier as much as the occupied. Out here the comforts run dry quickly, and all you’re left with is smoke, steel, and the smell of men cracking under it.

I looked at the datapad, crack and all, and opened up the comms menu. Three reports waiting. One all the way from Imperial Center. Still could not get used to that name. I knew why they used it. I just did not care. Sue me.

One report was wrapped in all the trimmings of espionage-deterrence. Classified markers, security codes, half a dozen warnings that screamed DO NOT READ. I was allowed to read it. My order. Background on three lowlifes from the lower levels. Knuckle-draggers. We were cleaning up the capital. Cleaning up the Core. We would succeed. One way or another.

Leeper’s voice cut across my thoughts. He was talking to the duty sergeant. I listened in.

‘Lieutenant. The sergeant says the guy in 16 is one for you.’

This would be good. In hindsight, it was not.

‘Does he?’ I asked, casual as I could manage.

Leeper almost sneered. That confused me.

‘Oh yes. This one says he’s been waiting for you.’

I paused. My gut twisted both ways. I wanted to know and I did not. Curiosity and fear, equal measure. Without breaking eye contact, I slid a hand into my pocket and pulled out a discreet communicator. My thumb found the edge.

I spoke quietly into the mouthpiece.

‘We have a live one.’

Kazimir Tragovic

 

[Janus Vipsanius]

Church of the Dark Side
Location Unknown | Archais
Darth Vinaze | Vireth | Talon Draven | Da'Razel | Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall​

The subterranean chamber was dimly lit, only the cold glow of the holoprojector cutting through the shadows. One by one, the ghostly blue figures of fellow ministers and priests of the Church of the Dark Side shimmered into being, each cloaked in secrecy and reverence. Of course, there were some present, members that would enact the will of the Sith'ari on this newly conquered world, but those field agents would stand aside, remain obscured.

Janus stood tall, his hands folded neatly behind his back, voice smooth as polished marble. His hologram flickered.

"Brothers and Sisters," he began with the faintest of smiles, "it is with pride that I commend our Imperial military. The conquest of Archais provides us with not only new territory, but a new flock. And flocks as you know.." his hand lifted, as though savoring the word, "..require shepherds."

The hologram briefly shifted to show the sprawling savannas, the bustling cities now flying Imperial banners, citizens adjusting uneasily to their new governors. Janus gestured toward the projection.

"These people believe themselves resilient, proud, unbroken. It is almost charming. But what is pride without purpose? What is resilience without a faith to direct it? Empty."

He let that linger before continuing, his tone sharpening.

"Fifty years ago, this world was a powder keg. Divided and segregated."

Janus outstretched his hand in gesture.

"We will fan the flames of division and revisit the errors of the past. Force upon them problems that only we can solve, that only we can unite them behind. We will weave the Church of the Dark Side into their daily lives.. subtly, at first. Statues erected in public squares just similar enough to not give way to their Sith connections. Sermons whispered in markets, disguised as simple parables of strength and order. Propaganda broadcasts extolling the 'discipline' of the Empire, but tied directly to the Sith."

His voice grew colder, clinical now.

"Fear binds them. Faith will mold them. Together, they will learn not only to obey… but to believe. The Dark Side offers them salvation, whether they recognize it or not."

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Open
Gear: In Bio

Watching the broadcast from the streets, Alana stared up at the propaganda with a blank expression. She shouldn’t have been surprised, after her time with the Sith Order, but this was….different.

She wasn’t a fan of the channel, nor the topics they shared. Not one bit. But the message was one she was all too familiar with.

Some nonsense about routing out the chaos within, bringing order to disunity. The same old message, but the end result was just as twisted as the evil it claimed to be quashing. Her hands slid into her pockets, staring up at the holographic display, the automated voice just going on about Jedi, the Galactic Alliance, unchecked freedom brewing unending anarchy.

Someone should do something about that. She looked about to the rest of the crowd, most people moving on without a care, before returning her attention to the large display before her, being projected in a seven story tall building.

Should be doable, in her mind at least. She drew out a single cigarillo from her pocket, and lit it. Starting her walk, she noticed the various ‘No smoking’ signs on the widows of buildings. She turned her attention upwards to catch the various airspeeders just drifting about from above, wanting to hide behind her own ignorance of the law.

She set her mind to work, thinking on how to hijack this message. Though, she also didn’t want to get herself killed trying for it. She caught a head motion towards her as she lit the cigarillo, only getting one puff before a voice started.

“Hey, lady, no smoking in public spaces!”

Alana exhaled, letting the smoke drift forth.

Maybe she should just steal all the no smoking signs.

That was like a form of rebellion too, right?

 

[Vireth]

---

---

Archais, Mid Rim systems;
The Church of the Dark Side.
Tags: Janus Vipsanius | Darth Vinaze | Talon Draven | Da'Razel | Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall

---

Vrrrrmerrmhrm...

Blue light cackled, and burst into life, above a holographic projector found in a chamber of esotericism, and devout belief in the dark-side incarnate, for the Church had come to bring forth the Galactic Emperor's will manifest.

Balmorra, Kuat, Commenor, Cato Neimoidia, New Plympto, Imperial Centre, Arkania...

Now, Archais.

Our march upon the stars themselves tremble in fury, and rage, as worlds shake at their feet.

The dream shall be realised.

"Fear binds them. Faith will mold them. Together, they will learn not only to obey… but to believe. The Dark Side offers them salvation, whether they recognize it or not."

"Well said, Minister Vipsanius," Vireth said into the intercom before her as she stood in the Command Spire within the Raithal Military Academy. In anticipation of the meeting she had had the spire cleared of all personnel, and had overseen the encryption behind the broadcast that would take her holographic visage into the esoteric realm wherein the Church shall bend, break and desecrate the will of the Archais people.

"The city of Hirkenburg must be pacified. As the capital for the planet Archais it is of importance and stature. If the people there are to know that they must embrace this new era for them, or that they risk destruction if they do not. I have ideas of how it must be delivered and in a manner akin to that which has seen the Core Worlds fall into our master's grasp."

With a click of a button, Vireth transmitted an image of Hero's Landing-- a monument found in the capital city of Hirkenburg commemorating the airborne assault of the now defunct Archaisian Special Air Command's assault upon the Novanian Liberation Army during the Archaisian Civil War.

"This must be torn down, abolished and replaced with a new sculpture commemorating the saviours of the Galactic Empire, who emerged from the darkness to liberate the galaxy from the decadent rule of the Jedi, replacing them with the grace and serenity of Emperor Fossk..."

---

 

[Brutalis]

Tags: OPEN

Scaley claws sank into the earth below. The dirt poured and flowed from out the colossal hand, a hand now cupped into a tight fist. Falling back into its place, a negative space left behind, a small crater by all account. Slits on the beasts head widened and inhaled sharply. It sounded aloud like a flustered reek. Then came its serpent like tongue, flicking the air with a open maw of foul smelling breath and rows of incisors.

"Bu jeedai doth wahca. Meecooda, abaha hoohah." The darkside elite raised its head and raised from its crouched position to cast a looming shadow over a squadron of stormtroopers awaiting his command.

" Orders? My lord." The squadron commander questioned. His masked visage watching thick ropes of drool fall from the mantellian savrips maw like a starved vine cat. Gross. Is that his gums? Or chunks of meat. By the emperor his breath stinks.

The dark jedis nictitating membranes flashed a blink at the question and then trailed off to a distant settlement. A medium was in question and the scents trails was still fresh in his nostrils. Then the savrip, known as Brutalis, spoke in huttese once more.

"Ye wanya da pauanea. Bitmanbettee doptkee bu jeedai. Saconba an chooskoo tytung da pankhobadokoua."

" As you wish, my lord!" And at that command the squadron commander saluted and pivoted to the rest of his troopers. Raising his hand and forming acouple gestures, the squad prepared to move out. Filing into K79-S80 Imperial transports and mounting AT-RT's, they descended apon the settlement with haste.

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Among the shimmering blue forms congregated from across the growing stars of the new Empire was the decrepit, cloaked form of the old sorcerer.


To some it might have been a shock to see him returned to the fold, for few had heard anything pertaining to the ominous Darth Vinaze in nearly two years. But that was the nature of the Sith Lord, fading in and out of the shadows as his work required. When he was discovered to have lived in the wake of the Great War by Valery Noble, it had begun his return to the fold of the Sith, to find Solipsis returned in full as well.

The Prophet had returned to the Church, but time and experience had changed him, in the dark recesses of the Netherworld. His vision of the Sith'ari had seemed so long ago, and The Dark Lord whom he had crowned on Exegol was to become more than a dominator of Sith, but a dominator of man. So had Solipsis outgrown his old role, so too had Vinaze. His quest to find the Sith'ari had ended with a thirst for knowledge left within him. So for the Church, Vinaze would give them the right to arbitrage knowledge, to know all and end those who knew too much. Thus the Odojinyakaar were born. The Keepers of the Dark Web of knowledge that made the Sith as powerful as they were. Fingers of the hand, manipulating the Grand Plan.

Outside the upper echelons of the Church, those present in this very meeting, the Keepers were a myth. A boogeyman, things that go bump in the night and leave you waking with one less family member. Whispers in the back of your mind that gnaw at some primal fear. Black knives in the dead of night that snuff the light of a kyber crystal. Their existence was known, but could never be proven, but faithful and the unfaithful alike could look into the shadows and fear they were looking back, waiting. Jedi vigilantes were pulled from the streets and executed. Preachers of the Ashla would wake with their throats cut and their voices silenced. Agents of the Alliance would go missing on their way to diplomatic missions. The servants of the Light were dragged into the consuming darkness.

The Prophet's hologram twitched with latency. His location was unknown to all but him.

"Chief Minister, I apologize for my silence of late," the slow, raspy voice of the elder Sith croaked, emphatic of each syllable.

"And Vireth, of Kuat. Yours is a new face to these old withered eyes. I look forward to seeing your work. My own has been of great success. My Keepers have sown the seeds of fear across a multitude of worlds, and Archais is a ripe fruit for our picking. A world with cognitive dissonance. Unhealed wounds. Paranoia. My serpents whisper venom into unchanged minds. There are those alive who remember the Archasian Civil war, and that the Sith were once an ally. The Empire need not be the hand that toppled the statues. There are a great many Archasians who feel as though history was written by the wrong side. The aging veterans are weak of mind but strong spirit. Easily pushed into action for a cause they never thought they would see through. I need only to give our inquisition the word and the flames of chaos can consume this world. It is then that the Empire will be not their fear but their salvation."

Vireth Janus Vipsanius

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// Solidor Slane | OPEN TO ALLIES AND OPS //:
:// and oh, poor Atlas, the world's a beast of a burden //:

​

The orders were simpler said than done. Get in. Secure a line to the Imperial network. Get my hands on any file relating to Stardust that I could manage to slice into. Secondary objective: bring down the propaganda machine long enough to get a message to the people of Archais. Give them a symbol of resistance the Empire could not easily drown out. The Lightsworn had put together the team specifically. Folks with experience with the Empire's former variants, stealth, and insurgency. Even still, the odds of succeeding and coming out alive were slim to none.

I had made my peace with that before accepting the mission. This was always the plan - even if I was two decades late. I had left the keys to the bar with Kyla - that piece of Ryv's legacy would live on through his daughter. The other two had grown up now, as well, following their studies paid for by Auteme. I had failed to ensure Kyric made good on his dad's wishes. Jedi through and through, he walked his own path now. There was a box waiting for them at the top of my closet. Every program I had thought worth replicating, every piece of information on the small network of enclaves, every memento saved from my youth spent with Ryv, neatly tucked away in its confines, in case the worst happened. I thought it would. There was a storm on the horizon.

Night had fallen over the planet whilst we recorded the Imperial comings and goings from a nearby building. Time offered insight into watch rotation, entry points, and defenses. It was not a bulwark - simply an occupied planetary garrison. I prayed silently that it had any terminal at all. I only had to get on the network - I was certain I could handle the rest. Imperial dogs never learned new tricks, but I had only gotten better since shedding the restraints M's watchful eyes had placed upon me. Finally satisfied, I tossed a stealth field generator to my partner. It wasn't worth its weight against my force cloak - but hopefully it would be enough to get them in unseen. After that.... well, they'd figure it out.

"Ready?" I asked, giving a once-over of my tools hidden beneath the Imperial uniforms.

Lightsaber. Slicing kit. Blaster. Denoators. It was now or never.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

Brutalis

​

The Galactic Empire had arrived on the Planet of Inner Rim Archais, bringing a considerable force not witnessed since the height of the New Imperial Order under Imperator Tavlar and Emperor Fel. For the Dark Side Elite, occupying the planet was not the challenge; that task was better suited for the Generals and Stormtroopers to handle.

However, reports of Jedi activity in the area indicated where their specialized skills would be necessary. To Krasskorr, the Jedi were of little concern, as they hardly warranted the effort required to eliminate them.

Instead, he set his sights on the innocent civilians of a nearby settlement. His equally monstrous partner, Brutalis and his accompanying squadron, boarded the K79-S80 Imperial transports, and together they mounted AT-RTs, descending upon the settlement with urgency.

They would be the first to arrive no doubt but that would give him time to move towards his own target.

With a quick motion, the hybrid dropped to all fours and started to push through the underbrush toward his target, as the sensitive receptors in his nose detected their scent. They carried an unpleasant odor, perhaps cleansed by the Light Side of the Force, or maybe they had lingered too long in its presence.

 

[Rhyse Calder]

He was done with losing, with the waiting. Coruscant crumbled beneath the tyrant fist of the Empire, and now three more systems were crushed underfoot. It would only continue, only worsen. Much of the Jedi had abandoned the core with what few remnants of the Jedi Order order to scrounge up the pieces, too much for so few arms to carry. A heavy burden to bear, but borne all the same. Rhyse refused to regroup and wait out the storm of indecision until the Empire, once again, lashed out first in another decisive blow. He would take the fight to them.

The settlement on Archais was of little note in the grand scheme of things but whispered word told of the Dark Side Elite planning to strike in the area, and Rhyse would see himself as bait. The Imperial shuttles deployed their white clad stormtroopers and dark side Jedi counterparts, with Rhyse merely stepping out into the middle of the nearest street, pressing down on the hilt of his lightsaber and snapping to life a blue, thrumming blade. His robes billowing in the wind.

Brutalis - Krasskorr the Maw

 

[Talon Draven]

​

Objective: Speak with Members of the Church
Location: Council Room, Archais
Tags: Janus Vipsanius | Darth Vinaze | Vireth | Da'Razel | Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall

Talon sat at the long table alone. To his right, a large glass window showed the savannas of Archais and the architecture surrounding the horizon. Imperial banners fluttered in the wind as the man sat there staring out the window in silence. It was peaceful for once sitting in silence by himself with no one around. A simple tunic and pants adorned his body opposed to his usual battle robes, cloak and mask. He looked...normal.

The crackle of the projector brought him out of his thoughts and away from the scenery. He sat back within his chair and kicked a leg up onto the table. Many times his Master's voice echoed in his head. 'Sit properly, Talon. That is not becoming of a pada-' He stopped that thought immediately and instead of just the one, his second boot came up and rested across the ankle of his first one.

Janus broke the silence first.

Watching the man before them talk and the holoprojector switch to the sprawling savannas and the shape of the cities surrounding her planet flying their banners. Talon watched in silence as he nodded his head along, listening intently. Talon hung onto every word Janus said in his speech and his face once again turned away to the window. The people of Archais would bend their knee to them. They would believe in them, they would follow them. Talon's mouth tugged into a quick but subtle smile as he once again turned to the holoprojector as Vireth spoke next.

Looking at the monument of Hero's Landing, Talon stared at it and nodded. Then came the raspy voice of Lord Vinaze. Talon nodded his head along with his thoughts and opinions as well.

"If you risk tearing it down now, the people will only subjugate us as the oppressors many of them see now. They say the winner writes history, if we were to be able to bend that history, then it would be easier to tear it down," Talon finally spoke up. His voice was cool and smooth as if thinking of how easy it would be.

"As Minister Vipsanius and Lord Vinaze stated, those who are aged are weaker in mind but strong in spirit. The elder amongst many family and friend groups sets the dynamic of how others follow. If we poison the well, no one will know who did it. They will drink their fill unknowingly accepting us and turning to us in times of desperation and hardship. We must let them know that under the Empire's rule that we are here for them, the people. Unlike the Jedi who used them and led them blindly, we will let them see." Talon's feet dropped from the table as he leant forward. "If we can erect smaller statues around before toppling bigger ones and replacing them quickly, we can let our people whisper greatness about the smallfolk that helped the Empire. The smallfolk are what can make or break a ruling. You turn the smallfolk into gossipers of good doings from us, you turn the commonfolk easily as they will want to be apart of the bigger picture. The minds of people are easy to sway when they want to be apart of something better. If we open the doors to small temples and allow them to enter, we can preach to them and allow them to sit among their fellow kin to fit in."

Talon sat back in his seat as he said his piece.

 

[Casi Braste]

Tag: Vade Taharin

Capital City of Hirkenburg,
Provisional Imperial Headquarters, City Hall

The machine of the Empire churned all around her.

From the time they'd landed and conquered the building, clean up crews and pioneering bureaucrats had swept through the building and turned into into the epicenter of an occupation. The city council had been abolished in minutes with the summary execution of the mayor and the detaining of the councilors. Computers and wires had been brought in off the star destroyer that loomed over the city, and a line was immediately set up to communicate with the parliament building, where the Moffs and their Death Troopers were officially processing Archais' entry to into the Galactic Empire.

She had heard of the Empire’s war machine as a Jedi, and so had Archais. The planet had mostly accepted the occupation before it began, whether because they feared what would come of them after watching Coruscant burn, or because they were faithful to another empire of days past. Watching its brutally efficient minutiae she began to understand the Empire's real power. Not just the power of the Dark side, her power or her comrades', but the power of the mass of loyal personnel that had, overnight, turned Archais into a provisional subject of the Empire, with nothing but cold calculation and fear. They zipped by her, heads to screens, most of them unaware of her existence, a few wary of her presence if they knew who she was at all. They were engrossed, cogs in an evil machine unable to think of anything but the further turnings of the gears.

In the beating heart of the occupation, the Dark Side Elite had been given a floor in the east wing of the city hall. Most of them had left the moment they had touched down, to pursue leads on Jedi who remained planetside, or to quash rebellion. Casi had been assigned to home base, much to her chagrin. She knew her power was being restrained, that she could fight Jedi as well as her comrades. She had been one of the best duelists in the temple dojo for ages, for as long as she could remember, really. It wasn't a lack of trust she knew. The Dark Side elite were the Emperor's chosen. He had chosen her, among all the Jedi of Coruscant who died, to not only live but to serve something greater than herself.

Her hand rested on her lightsaber as she sat at the administrators desk she had claimed for herself, swivelling around on the chair in bored contemplation. Outside, Hirkenburg had quieted with the sunrise, the rats scurrying back to their holes, the citizens offering a silent and compliant thanks to the Empire for bringing order to chaos. Anyone who spoke otherwise was put to the wall. Anyone who spoke word of the Light Side of the Force promptly disappeared, even in private. Jedi were hunted, and for a few of her comrades it had become a sport more than it was a duty. Part of her, deep down, worried if she would be able to do it if the time came. To kill a Jedi. She had killed soldiers, and a Dark Side Elite, earning his place in doing so. But she had never killed a fellow Jedi. She had put them on their backs when they sparred, she had hit with training sabers strikes that would kill in an instant. She wondered if she had to face a former brother or sister of the order, if something inside her would hesitate.

As she swivelled once more she stopped at the sight of a woman standing at the door, in crisp white military dress, rank pin bearing two blue, two red. An agent of the OIT. She bore a datapad tucked in her arm.

"Do you need something?" Casi asked with her air of superiority.

The woman calmly unfurled the datapad from her arm and took a step forward into the room.

"Lady Braste? I was directed to bring this information to you. It is in regards to the prohibited use of the Force and the illegal gathering of unrecognized religious entities." the woman spoke plainly, as though the words coming out of her mouth were ever so average.

"You mean Jedi." she perked up. Could they have found one?

"That is correct, ma'am. A patrol squad in the neighborhood of North Hirken found a gathering of civilians speaking about a Jedi who had healed one of their people. After they were brought in for questioning it was determined they did not know the whereabouts of this Jedi, but that others in the area do. How should we approach this, ma'am?"

"Prepare me a speeder, and I will survey this North Hirken myself. Your people could not deal with a Jedi if they tried."

------------

The Streets of North Hirken were slum-like, densely packed beneath the shelter of a mountain pass. City blocks were tiered and gridded, all built of cheap duracrete, sporadically filled with insular apartment colonies of Novanians, and mostly filled by the poor humans that worked the city's mines. The area had never quite recovered from the civil war, and flames of that conflict were rising again under the Empire. No wonder a Jedi would haunt this place. It was almost too obvious, she thought, like a trap. A consular to draw out the Empire, and guardians to ambush from the shadows. For all the preaching of the Light, the Jedi were at home in the shadows when it suited them, when it helped them further anarchy. But Casi knew it was more likely a lone Jedi, or a master and their apprentice, doing the right thing, whatever they believed that was.

Casi had changed into old black Jedi robes, the same she had worn when she was taken in to the Empire. For today, it would be like she'd never left the order, becoming a Jedi again so that she might slip into their ranks without suspicion. The Jedi would be hiding, but embedded in the community somehow. They had always taught the value of community in the temple, and helping communities in need. It what she might have done, once. Now her knowledge of the Jedi ways would help her think like her prey.

She hid in the shadows of the city, avoiding imperial patrols that she knew she could pass openly, speaking in hushed whispers when she offered her aid to civilians, suppressing her smiles when the fools accepted. How easily a kind smile can deceive, she thought as she followed a local vendor to the back rooms of a market, where the other Jedi might be located.

 

[Brutalis]

Arrival.

Within the minute storm troopers poured into the settlement. Dismounting from out of their landing craft, speeders and similar vehicles. They immediately began going door to door. Pulling citizens from their housing and into the streets. Resistors were beaten with stun batons and set in binders. Left in their painful state to grovel on the duracrete streets like worms. A reminder and symbol of the cost of defiance.

Of rebellion.

A reminder and symbol of the cost of defiance.

Entire families shrieked in terror and far of denizens scurried to lock themselves inside their homes or evacuate elsewhere.

Then Brutalis dismounted. Ground quaking in the form of a small localized tremor. Black and red cloak billowing behind him to reveal black and grey attire underneath and a lightclub clipped to a utility belt. The mantellian savrip lumbered forward scanning the settlement with more scrutiny now.

One such resistor insisted on displaying further resolve. Speaking out, despite their unliberated status. " Imperial dogs! You can't jus-" Spit, teeth and a spray of crimson painted the ground. " No one told you to speak." A stormtrooper remarked rather apathetically. They would be interrogated. In another instance the sight of Krasskorr the Maw displaying a crawl of primal dominance was caught briefly. The presence of a second Darkside Elite was common, but rarely did the Brutalis himself observe the service of other alien species to the Emperor. I cant wait to see how you dismantle your foes. He thought to himself.

The Imperial shuttles deployed their white clad stormtroopers and dark side Jedi counterparts, with Rhyse merely stepping out into the middle of the nearest street, pressing down on the hilt of his lightsaber and snapping to life a blue, thrumming blade. His robes billowing in the wind.

The Savrips hunched posture straightened upwards. Lengthening to his full height, where Brutalis inhaled and flicked the air with his serpent like tongue once more. "Donohkepeu wa cahecakha. Bu Jeedai doth..." . Then it happened. As if on que his confirmation came two fold. The first struck his psyche with a new presence impressed apon his preternatural awareness and minds eye. Next came the physical manifestation of such a prophecy and right before his eyes.

A man in the middle of the street. No further than 150 yards. Azure blade ignited and ready. A stark challenge that evoked immediate attention. Brutalis fell back to his hunched posture, raising a fist high and slamming it down with enough force to rupture the duracrete below with a spider web of fissures. The impact causing those adjacent to stumble. A piercing roar erupted from dark jedis maw! A dominance display of his own and a call that his primal minded brother Krasskorr the Maw would surely understand.

Contact made.

Dropping to all fours, Brutalis charged forward like a alpha veermok! Long powerful strides. Was naught till half way that the dark jedi summoned his lightclub to hand and activated the weapon in a flourish of vermillion-orange glow. The blade of the saber reaching three meters in length and paired with the large reptilians naturally long limbs, Once in range, a wave of destruction swept horizontally outward. Indiscriminate to people and adjacent buildings alike.

Maximum destruction.

As long as it was toward the jedi Rhyse Calder . No cost was too high.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

Brutalis Rhyse Calder

​

Krasskorr heard the scream from Brutalis , confirming that Jedi were indeed active on Archais. The noise of a lightclub crashing through market stalls and slicing through the outer walls of buildings brought a grin to both of his faces, for Krasskorr was not just a single-headed hybrid but a conjoined twin, either as a result of mutation or excessive use of the Dark Side of the Force.

With two mouths filled with sharp teeth, he could rip the Jedi apart without even needing to unsheathe his blade. With the Savrip serving as the battering ram, he maneuvered through the dense grass beside the settlement to get the drop on Rhyse Calder .

He used the cover of the panicked crowds and the Imperial Stormtroopers, the smoke rising from the burning homes and the low architecture of the settlement to his advantage as his eyes finally found its target.

Both sets focused intensely on analyzing the man's posture, observing the movement of his lightsaber, and pinpointing the precise moments when his guard would lower. He effortlessly climbed the building, his enormous size aiding him, while the roof began to give way.

With a hand extended, he summoned his Lightclub to his side, its red blade gleaming briefly before the creature jumped down to execute a lightsaber smash with the lengthy weapon.

 

[Kazimir Tragovic]

Pious Tapp

There was a certain comfort in recent conquests. The smell of spent tibanna, the cries of defiance from the conquered, the dimmed lights of cities half-destroyed... in that pandemonium, Kaz almost felt at home. Not that he ever knew what home felt like, but he imagined it conjured a sense of familiarity... of security. Comfort. In that sense, perhaps Kaz had finally come home...

He had been waiting in the corridors of the troop carrier for what seemed to be an eternity. Kaz hated waiting. It was a bitter irony that he hated it, for the nature of his work was often full of exactly that. Patience wasn't just a virtue, but a necessity. Every task had an opportune moment. Every sniper shot, every explosion, every act of violence had to be conducted with brutal precision. Even one as brazenly chaotic as Kaz understood that.

He had research to do while he waited, at least. One might even call it homework. There was that word again...

Home.

A familiar bit of static quickly filled the earpiece hidden beneath his mask before shifting into the voice of his handler. He had only recently met Lieutenant Tapp, having been recruited by him on the dust-filled hellhole that was Tatooine. In truth, he was still trying to get a proper read on the man. There was that usual clean-cut air of an intelligence officer about him, but there were brief moments when Tapp had allowed himself to relax just enough to sound like a regular person. Of course, knowing those intelligence types, that could have been an act in itself, a measure taken to possibly get Kaz to lower his guard...

But Kaz never lowered his guard.

He listened silently to the transmission, kicking himself away from the wall he had been leaning against as he begun to make his way to cell 16. He pressed his own communication device as he walked.

<<On my way.>>

Whatever poor sap was waiting for them in the cell was in for a rather rough day.

 

[Rhyse Calder]

The gleaming blade of the Savrip cleaved through the building behind him, able to barely yet nimbly duck beneath it as the durasteel was made lob-sided and leaning with the creaking threat of coming crashing down. Rhyse lunged forwards, closing the distance as the lightclub swung wide. Pitted against this beast of a thing, uncertain as to whether it was more monster or man.

He made up his mind at first-sight, however.

In his hands, a lightsaber was a painter's brush. In a blue blur of motion, it came came swinging with an elegant grace towards the creatures weapon-wielded wrist in an effort to sever them in a decisive blow, only to flourish back up in a chest-bound clash with no wasted movement.

Before Rhyse could even begin to think of pressing forwards again, his gaze snapped skywards. The groaning of metal from an adjacent building gave way to the sight of a second beastly thing, coming crashing down towards him with a crimson blade. With the size of that thing, Rhyse could not hope to block the weight of it. He darted aside, disengaging to find a moment of reprieve.

A grin crept across his face. For all that brewing anger, there was nothing more beloved than the thrill of the fight.

"Two against one," he said with the twirl of his lightsaber. His mouth flexed into a shrug, truly taking note of the two-headed one. "Three, maybe. You honour me."

Rhyse rushed back in with the Force fueling his every movement, swinging in a flurry of motions at the two-headed creature.

Brutalis - Krasskorr the Maw

 

[Da'Razel]

UNKNOWN - ARCHAIS
​

Tag Direct: Darth Vinaze | Vireth | Talon Draven Janus Vipsanius

Tag Indirect: Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall

Equipment: Bōchōr | The Vow of Saud | The Helm of the One-Eyed Prophet | Korrûg Kuûr

What stark contrast, what wondrous opposition.

This place stirred wanderlust in him, a pull he hadn't felt since the events of Cademimu V.

That fateful day. Decades of days dedicated, and every day since.

The birth of the Galactic Empire.

The events of Ord Lithone lingered, they were the pinnacle of his rite of passage as a disciple of the church.

Oh, how he would have wished to besiege Arkania with his brethren, stand beside them in ice-cold trenches, blade drawn.

Crimson red sprawled across frozen white, flaring hues of scarlet and ember, the metallic grays of towering walkers blotting out the horizon.

All the while he would scream passages from their holy book, and douse their foes in fire and flame, burn them, bone, sinew, and all.

He had heard the tales, traded the stories, oh, what a sight it must have been.

But it was not his lot. No, his craft was honed in darkness. No glorious tales of valor, but corpses in alleyways, data heisted from unheard-of vaults in silence, demise dealt by unseen hands, like Kelig Ward , a shadow among shadows, victims not knowing of their passing until the instant it was upon them.

Satchel bombers in elevators on Coruscant, Jedi assassinations in the Temple, corporate espionage and infiltration on Ord Lithone.

Such would be his legacies.

Weaker men would succumb to doubt. Weaker men would have wavered, considered alternatives.

Da'Razel was no weaker man. His destiny was clandestine, his threads were his threads to spin, and he would obediently knot the ties of fate until the grand spool yielded no more wool, until his tapestry was realized, until it was time to put his loom down.

His clawed digits curled carefully around a round yellow fruit, not much larger than his fist. He felt the object contract under his grasp, his touch growing delicate not to spoil the food. He lifted it from the maroon-brown dirt back onto the wooden rack of the market stall that carried the wares.

A Native, a human looking male before him, croaked a sound akin to approval.

The red giant inclined his head in the slightest bow.

It was a rare sight, the Devaronian's face a macabre meld of burn wounds atop leathery, sandpaper-like skin in the hues of Korriban's desert sands.

Lips pressed taut. A gaze that impaled. He looked both lost and anchored, drifting elsewhere yet guided towards a unseen destination, as he stalked through the marketplace.

His horns were filed and jagged, more like a Zabrak's crown than the bone spikes of his kin.

He wore a long black tunic, draped from his waist like a robe. Bare feet ending in black talons. His right side was cloaked, his left exposed, swollen chest, muscular shoulder and arm marked with occult sigils. Golden hoops clasped his garb around his abdomen, shoulders, and ankles keeping the cloth in place as it flew and settled in the grassland winds.

His gaze had not yet left the stall before him, enticed by the taste and feel of what was on display.

Then, the sound of muffled boots in the dirt finally pulled his attention aside. A small squad of white-clad troopers patrolled through the market.

In tow marched two humans in well-fitted black uniforms, marked by stripes and insignia Da'Razel did not recognize, but clearly defined them as high standing bureaucratic. Men with career.

Before them trailed a ragged group of prisoners, shackled by their feet and hassled into a hurry by the armed troopers herding them.

The Saint turned his head back to the merchant, whose sorrowful stare clung to his fellow countrymen.

Da'Razel spoke, with a broken Arkanian accent but with well-versed vocabulary: "What happened to them?"

The man answered, slowing his speech when the priest beckoned him with a hand gesture.

"These men… they were ripped from their homes, their families, for nothing! For suspicion! For beliefs! Just because!"

So often it was nothing but cruel fortune, the wrong place, the wrong time, that tipped fate against you, knocked citizens over the edge, and into the abyss that was the Empire's rustling engine of justice.

It was not his justice.

The Devaronian moved, leaving the fruit vendor behind.

He marched with determined focus, one step after the other, each stride accompanied by the clink and chime of prayer beads, trinkets, flasks, and other utensils on his person.

By the time he reached the group, the prisoners had been forced to their knees, backs against a wall of a neighboring warehouse.

The firing squad stood before them, weapons raised, while the two officers droned out a passage of last rights.

A crowd had formed in the market, but the Saint parted it like a tide and stepped before the troopers.

Their grasp on their weapons tightened. Even without expression, confusion spread among them.

"Get out of the way, or be killed!" one barked.

"You, civilian!" the blackcoat bellowed. "Stand aside—or by the Emperor's name, be struck down for your insolence, you filthy beggar!"

Da'Razel remained calm. His hand slid into the folds of his tunic, tugging at something within.

The razor-sharp scream of a blaster shot split the air.

Gasps tore through the crowd. Panic rippled among the soldiers.

The bolt froze in place, suspended between muzzle and mark.

The Saint's outstretched palm made it so, twisting and distorting the searing plasma.

An eerie silence fell, like an invisible blanket over those gathered, until the Darksider tore it asunder.

"Are you children of the Empire?" he thundered, gaze locked on the kneeling prisoners.

They returned his stared in blank disbelief.

"My flock, I ask again. Are you not believers? Followers of our Emperor?"

Grasping this second chance, many nodded, others murmured in assent.

"Yes, lord… yes, we are."

"Do you see?" The Saint turned back to the troopers, his other hand revealing a large medallion, a mark of his station as a high-ranking member of the Church. A credential not all troopers fully understood, but one whose weight could not be denied.

"These men and women kneeling before us are your brothers, your sisters. We are all children of the Great Emperor, our god, our savior, our fate."

With noticeable exertion he curved the trajectory of the fired shot upwards, it bend like a weak beam of iron, before the force holding it back was released and it hissed once more escpaing into the sky above.

He swayed to one side than the other like a priest before an altar, sermon swelling across the crowd.

"My fair people of Hirkenburg, rejoice! You are now within His embrace. You see only turmoil, only change, but hear me. This change is necessary."

His arms lifted high, as if to embrace them all.

"Look past the cold steel of bureaucracy. It is but a vessel, but a tool, needed to touch a thousand planets, to contain a billion people and billions more after. Within it lies warmth, within it lies destiny. Within it, each of us has a place, a calling."

He pointed to the shackled men before him.

"You, and you, and you, all of you have a calling in this new Empire. You have been set free. Yes, it will be hard. Yes, it will be tough. But now you have a chance. A chance at a new life. A better life. A life dedicated to your new God"

Whispers spread, fearful, others excited. Even the officers exchanged faltered glances.

"My siblings, let us kneel together. Kneel like these men before you. Pray. Pray for us, and for all those who are yet to join our flock. Today, we embrace them. Today, we make them part of something greater. Together, we make something greater."

The Saint suddenly held a scroll, parchment unrolling in his grip, one end raised into the air, the other falling before his bare feet.

At first only a few troopers. those already believers at heart, dropped down. Then, as Da'Razel's pale gaze pierced the crowd, more joined. And more still. Even the officers, at last, bowed.

"Repeat after me."

"Zi'lah do'kuut. Miis do'Jidai. Tyûk do'Jen'ari."

And so his sermon continued, each voice in the choir pledging their soul to their Emperor.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Da'Razel had almost arrived too late to the gathering.

Deep underground, in a facility founded long ago by an on-world cell of the Church, the lords, saints, prophets, and heads of the order convened, ready to indulge in discussions of the past, haggle about future outcomes and strike arrangements yet to be made.

It was the first time he had gathered enough favor, enough standing, to be granted access.

Most of its members where elsewhere, ghastly illuminations cast across the stars.

He stood amongst the many black garbs, operatives of the Church, silent sentinels.

The visage of their Grand Master, Chief Minister Janus Vipsanius , made his heart pound audibly. The great herald of the Church blessed them with his address, delivering the distilled will of collective belief.

Da'Razel was honored.

The voice that followed, he recognized instantly. Even in the faint blue shimmer of the hololithic display, no one could withstand those eyes, that golden gleam. Vireth . His heart lifted at the sight of his compatriot. It had not been long since their shared operation, since her injuries—and yet she stood a perfect image of cold-blooded composure, ever prepared. Her logic was flawless. Her plan, commendable. Had he been allowed, he would have roared in agreement. Instead, he remained a silhouette among other silhouettes, a black-clad figure among black-clad figures.

Yet even among the nameless, the operators, the assets, the next apparition that shimmered into the forefront loosed murmurs and whispers across the chamber.

It could not be… Darth Vinaze . Believed to have perished more than two years ago, in the same conflict that had claimed a life of their Lord.

If one considered the Dark Side Elite the prophets of the Church, then Darth Vinanze was an archangel, one of the first, a force before their forces had been formed, a cosmic storm that walked in flesh.

The Devaronian had difficulty concentrating. Part of him longed to back-trace the signal of the projection beacon; if he had direct access, he might have discerned the Lord's true location. But he bit his tongue instead.

The mere mention of the Keepers sent another ripple of reactions among the gathered. Legends within legends. Secrets within secrets. Ghosts that slew demons.

Before he could act, another figure took to the blue-lit podium. Da'Razel did not know this man, Talon Draven but he felt the truth in his words. His own heart could have spoken the same.

It was time to act now. One last look. Even draped in black, he recognized most of the shadows that lingered in the darker recesses of the assembly.

And then he stepped forward, out of line. With a press of a button, his own figure projected into the midst of the council.

"High Lords. Ladies. Brothers. Sisters. Our holiness, Chief Minister Janus Vipsanius. I am Saint Peterius, a humble servant, a devout vessel of our God-Emperor's will.

I plead my case, my lords: let us, your true believers, raise your monuments in His glory and topple those of the faithless. Let us herd this flock until they too are astute believers.

Archais will not fall. Archais will rise, an altar-world, a beacon of worship. While stale bureaucracy shuffles paper, the Church bends not stone or steel, but souls.

This can be the first of many. Civilizations conquered , not by battle, but by sermon. Not by conquest, but by conversion. An Empire of believers, for our God-Emperor.

My lords… let me serveee."

He almost hissed these last syllables, his words ripe with devotion, his gospel so raw from his heart. Then the Saint dropped to one knee, bowing his head before the council, pleading for both their forgiveness and their mercy.

 

[Vireth]

---

---

Archais, Mid Rim systems;
The Church of the Dark Side.
Tags: Talon Draven | Janus Vipsanius | Darth Vinaze | Da'Razel | Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall

---

Vireth of Kuat stood within the Command Spire of the Raithal Military Academy to the ambience of electronics, rain-fall and divine purpose manifested through the devout believers of the Church of the Dark Side.

Beneath the sermon, she listened attentively to her brethren.

"...The Empire need not be the hand that toppled the statues. There are a great many Archasians who feel as though history was written by the wrong side. The aging veterans are weak of mind but strong spirit. Easily pushed into action for a cause they never thought they would see through. I need only to give our inquisition the word and the flames of chaos can consume this world. It is then that the Empire will be not their fear but their salvation."

"As Minister Vipsanius and Lord Vinaze stated, those who are aged are weaker in mind but strong in spirit. The elder amongst many family and friend groups sets the dynamic of how others follow..."

"The history of the Archais people, before the re-consecrated Galactic Empire, is of no consequence," Vireth spoke through her miniaturized form situated above the holographic projector immersed in the visages of the sinister, legendary Darth Vinaze and the indomitable Talon Draven .

"Bending narratives... Turning minds... Making the histrionics, the culture, and of the people ours through subtle deeds... This has been the work of our Church and it brought us back from the brink of catastrophe, and ruination," Vireth continued to say as she brought the fateful into the new paradigms of the Empire they had forged from the shadows. "Lord Vinaze, Lady Wulf, Grand Vizier Tirall- all of these ilk are to be commended for guiding the likes of us through those dark valleys where there was no end in sight to bring us to that fateful day of reunion with Imperial Centre."

"But if the well is thought to be poisoned- no- foreseen to be already brimming with those who would be against our regime then they must be met with an exorcism as it was with Operation Cinder at Cademimu..."

As the reminder of the purge at Cademimu V lingered in the air, Vireth brought her proposal round to it's conclusion with a rage and righteous fury that had guided the remnants of the Brotherhood of Maw, New Imperial Order and Dark Empire into the thousand year rule of the resurgent, malevolent Galactic Empire!

"We are no longer in hiding! The tools of the past must be cast aside for the Emperor has shown us the way! When the traitors at Cademimu did not answer his call they were burned and destroyed! Our war machine has toppled the greatest power in the galaxy and reduced it into a motely lot of bickering star systems quaking in fear at our Imperial march!"

"My lords… let me serveee."

As the Saint hissed his plea, his compatriot was gripped with a fever. Vireth, as she stood there, voice raising, until a shriek burst forth in all the splendour and glory of one who had marched upon the Galactic Alliance and turned it into ruin.

The Architect would have Peterius serve.

"DESTROY THE PAST! THE HEROES OF HIRKENBURG-- THEIR HISTORY, THEIR VALOR-- PALE IN SIGNIFICANCE OR COMPARISON TO THE FEATS OF THE IMPERIAL STORMTROOPER! ALL THOSE WHO WOULD WHISPER DOUBT OR CONFUSION SHALL BE DESTROYED! TOPPLE HERO'S MONUMENT AND ALL REMNANT TRACES OF THEIR DECADENT CIVILIZATION FOR A NEW AGE IS UPON ARCHAIS!"

---

 

[Kroeger]

HIRKENBURG, ARCHAIS
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
902 ABY

D E M O N
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
GRAND GENERAL
Vireth Talon Draven | Janus Vipsanius | Darth Vinaze | Da'Razel | Shannic Wulf | Veodora Kadnessi | Derix Tirall

THE LEGION​

The Grand General arrived accompanied by the scream of TIE Defenders marked with the crimson stripes of the 181st Starfighter Wing, the Empire's finest in the skies. He took landing at the platform to the hasty command center which the Empire had established in Hirkenburg and from whence they would begin to inflict their authority and propaganda amongst its masses. The hydraulics of the shuttle's ramp hissed as it lowered to reveal a section of dark clad Death Troopers who immediately flanked the metallic ramp, making way for the Grand General. He was clad in his olive grey uniform, with the exception of a stormtrooper cuirass and pauldrons strapped over it, a dull grey with the black, rust red and green camoflague striping of the Iron Legion, his chosen sons.

An officer of lower rank, the Army's officer-in-charge, a Battalion Commander of the 2nd Battalion, 34th Armored Assault who had been tasked with holding Hirkenburg delivered a swift salute returned in kind by Kroeger as he approached the command center. "The city and most of the planet is secure, save for pockets of Arkanian resistance. The Church of the Dark Side is well underway in sanitizing the planet as well, General." He said to the man, his brow furrowing beneath the wrapping which barely held together his deeply damaged and disfigured, part cybernetic features.

"Is that right?" He asked, an affirmative nod from the Battalion Commander as he stepped into the tactical operations center, the Army's control nucleus of operations within and around Hirkenburg. Staff officers manned terminals and maneuver officers came in to deliver and receive updates. A feed of the sentiment and activites of the Church of the Dark Side's activities on Archais was requested in advance by the General, the intelligence officer sliding over a datapad which Kroeger began to flick through after igniting a cigara and tucking it into his bandaged lips.

"They're defacing Archaisian history, now? A planet historically loyal to the Empire? For what purpose?" Kroeger asked, lofting a brow to which the man, a junior lieutenant nodded tentatively, his hands firm at his side in the position of attention.

"Sir...the Army has no jurisdiction in the Church's activities, they do however claim to be acting in the name of the legacy of the stormt-" Kroeger waved a dismissive hand.

"Get me in contact with whoever is in charge of their activities here..." The intelligence officer nodded before stepping away, barking an order to a junior man at a comms terminal.