Public Terror Attack on Kuat

[Csariden]

❖THE BOMB AT KUAT❖
The Empire builds. So we burn.

The Kuat Orbital Ring drifted in near-silence, its circumference spanning a world.

From every angle, ships were being born: Star Destroyers, escort frigates, bulk transports, military luxury. Forge-frames bristled with cranes and energy tethers, and orbital drydocks pulsed with light as kilometer-long hulls were plated in real time.

To the Empire, it was a symbol of strength.

To him, it was a scar across the sky.

---

Orbital Array 7 reported a brief power dip. Just a spike. Crew assumed it was a voltage reroute.

Slipway Theta-9 registered a coolant imbalance. A tech clipped it to the maintenance backlog.

But by the time the alarms started cycling, it was too late.

A shaped object had been burned into the underside of Drydock 44. Atmo seals were compromised. Blood misted across zero-G trusses. And in the corridors—

Charric bolts. Cyan lenses. Warcries in Cheunh.

The Chiss Revengeancy was here.

And they brought another PLZ bomb.

---

Spoiler: Music

Spoiler: OOC

This is a public rebel strike on the Kuat Drive Yards — a coordinated incursion by the scattered enemies of Empire, vengeance-bent Chiss, and rogue saboteurs from the Outer Rim to the Core. Anyone can join the Chaos™​

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[Csariden]

❖ CSARIDEN ❖
Rebuilt For Revenge.

They weren't ready.

The security checkpoint at Dock 44 shattered in a burst of crimson gore and shrieking metal. Csariden didn’t pause to confirm the kills. He advanced like a scalpel—white hair streaked back, blue skin lacquered in drydock dust, his high-frequency vibroblade whining with lethal oscillation.

By the time the first alarm klaxons wailed, he’d already carved through the console crew.

A burst of gunfire lanced toward him. Reflexes did the rest. The cybernetic eye tracked the trajectory, the prosthetic jaw clenched, and his off-hand caught the bolt on the edge of the vibroblade, redirecting it into a fuel valve.

Flames bloomed behind him.

Let them see.

---

Holocams flickered as the automated coverage drone pivoted toward the main office tower—a smooth, plastiglass cube suspended over the assembly floor like an executive gallows.

Inside, Director Ulger Mayn stumbled backward. He tried to seal the doors.

Too late.

The Chiss crashed through the transparisteel wall in a flurry of glass shards and plummeting reports. His blade sheared through the man’s sidearm, then opened his chest in a single upstroke that nearly cleaved him in two.

Blood painted the interior lens of the hovering camera.

Mayn slumped over his desk, still twitching.

Csariden stood over him, angled into frame, white hair glowing like the corona of a dying star beneath the ruined lights.

He looked into the camera.

Raised his sword.

"For Csilla. For every cry beneath the snow they never heard."

He turned the blade slightly. A high-frequency scream vibrated through the feed.

" Darth Solipsis — I will find you."

"And if not me—"

He stepped over Mayn’s corpse, out onto the cracked observation deck, where fire from the blast below roared up the side of the platform.

"—then every soul you've stolen will crawl from their graves until you fall."

He stabbed the blade into the camera drone. Static.

Then silence.

---

Begin broadcast disruption. Deploy the PLZ bomb.

The shadows beneath the orbital yard shifted as Revenants surged from concealment.

Revenge had begun again.

@OPEN
(Empire PvP welcome)

​

 

[Madalena deWinter]

She leaned against the wall near a half-dead terminal, arms crossed, no weapons to be seen. The Kuati foreman two steps ahead of her was sweating bullets trying to explain why their new "fail-safe" lockdown system had a 4.3 second lag between tripped alarm and seal.

Madalena didn't care. She wasn't here for seals.

She was here because someone was paying her to be, and she'd long ago learned the value of pretending to care. At first it had been in the Confederacy, where she pulled mission after mission successfully, leading troops to whatever it was the bigwigs on top wanted to. Then with the Agents of Chaos, she had been the leader of all the combatants, and give something she'd actually cared about. That had been nice while it lasted.

That was also four decades ago by the count of most of the galaxy. And now that both she and her sister were back, she wanted to have her own money again. Money was always a good thing to have. So she'd taken an actual job as a security consultant. It was… Okay.

Her gaze drifted past the stressed engineer to the viewport. Kuat spun below, green and blue and way too peaceful for a place that spent most of its orbital life giving birth to warships. There was always something eerie about that contrast. Maybe that's why she hadn't slept well since landing.

A flicker on the edge of vision.

Then another.

And then the floor shuddered as detonations were heard. Screams. A wrench hit the deck. Emergency lighting stuttered as red pulses filled the corridor.

"Dock 44 just went dark!" someone shouted behind her.

The wall beside her buckled inward with the concussive force of a secondary blast. Air whistled. Gravity cracked. A technician screamed as part of the hull peeled like paper, exposing a glimpse of the drydock outside and the fire blooming up its side.

Madalena didn't scream. She just moved as though this was the most natural thing in the 'verse. To her, it was.

The magnetic clips released with a hiss. The scars on her face gave light, but she bid them quiet. It wasn't time to rip through reality again. Not yet. She stepped through the smoke, exhaled once through her nose, and muttered in various languages under her breath.


Csariden

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

Spoiler: Whottoomuzz Chantin Combat Loadout

Shyran Dol: Chantin Heirloom Armor

Melee Weapons

• MagnaGuard Electrostaff – Charged melee weapon effective against Force-users
• ZX Wrist Flamethrower – Cone of high-heat fire for crowd control
• Double-Bladed Vibrosword – Heavy melee weapon for cleaving and sweeping
• Lirka's Electrowhip

Ranged Weapons
• DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle – Suppressive long-range firepower
• A280 Blaster Rifle – Armor-piercing rifle for general infantry use
• Ion Rifle – Disables electronics, droids, and shields

Heavy Weapons
• E-Web Heavy Repeating Blaster – Tripod-mounted anti-infantry cannon
• RPS-6 Rocket Launcher – Homing, high-yield warheads
• Personal Energy Shield – Wearable generator for temporary defense

Gadgets & Tools
• Life-Form Scanner – Detects biological entities through walls
• Scomp Link – Terminal hacking tool
• Jetpack – Short-range vertical mobility
• Stealth Field Generator – Temporary active camouflage
• Electro-Grappling Line – Tether that stuns and restrains

️ Deployables
• Probe Droid – Recon and support drone
• “Gonk Bomb” (Modified GNK Droid) – Walking explosive payload
• Portable Energy Shield Projector – Ground-deployed stationary defense field

Consumables
• Stimpack – Emergency healing injection
• Power Cells – Refuels weapons and gadgets
• Smoke Grenade – Obscures line of sight
• Ion Grenade – Disables droids and shields
• Thermal Detonator – Devastating high-yield explosive
• Fragmentation Grenade – Anti-personnel shrapnel blast

"Bargon u diz, Drydock 31 wamma um bah tee mi."

The Kajidic’s Pride emerged from hyperspace in a wide-angled spiral, hull glinting with retrofitted turbolaser nests and old Separatist ventral cannons. She didn't decloak — she didn't care to.

Six plasma torpedoes punched across the void like molten nails.

They struck Drydock 31 — a fueling bay for Star Destroyer keels — just as the first screams echoed from Dock 44. A kilometer-long support gantry ruptured in a burst of white flame and hull plating. Fuel cells cracked. Workers screamed into the vacuum.

And above the chaos, the Kajidic’s Pride loomed — silent, smug, and monstrous — as her launch hangar irised open.

A dark comet descended from her underbelly.

Shyran Dol.

The armor of the Chantin Kajidic struck the plating of the ring station like the landing of a siege engine, seismic dampeners groaning under its impact. Jets flared, stabilizers rotated, and with the hiss of rising hydraulics, a Hutt climbed free of the scorched crater he'd made with his own arrival.

One red eye glared through a baroque engraved helm. His lower jaw was a brutal prosthetic of slag-welded droidcarapace. Power lines fed into his armored spine.

Whottoomuzz.

"Jee-korda chak, slimo. Jee jeejee bu."

He was bought by Chiss credits, but everywhere he went, the Hutt was hounded by bounty hunters after his head.

"No bata tu murishani koo ba wermo Empire. Jee hatkocanh killee mi."**

The Black Sun had a history of favoring empires of the past. He certainly suspected they played a part with this new empire. It was an agreeable enough job to for the Hutt.

He pried open a blast door, depressurizing an airlock long enough to slip inside before emergency bulkheads dropped.

The E-Web cannon on his shoulder rotated with a shriek of servos. The barrel glowed orange from preheating coils. He raised one massive hand and crushed a nearby security drone in his grip.

A section of the ring bulkhead had already begun to creak from internal pressure. He gave it a nudge with the haft of his electrostaff. The wall tore open into a pressurized hangar bay, its defenders scrambling to raise shields.

Too slow.

He advanced, a hovertank in slug form his voice booming through external speakers.

"Let your warriors come."
'"Peedunkee uba see wata."

The Hunt had begun.

@OPEN (Bounty Hunters welcome)
Proximity: Csariden Madalena deWinter​

 

[Csariden]

❖ CSARIDEN ❖
Rebuilt For Revenge.

“Hostiles inbound—eastern corridor breach—unknown number—markings unknown.”
The shipyard PA screamed to life as klaxons echoed through durasteel-plated corridors. Csariden was already moving.
His boots sparked against the gantry as he ran. To the uncareful observer, he simply vanished.

“Target is—ghhkkk—!”​

A blade sang through plastoid.

A silver-blue blur cut through the smoke.
By the time the first stormtrooper squad rounded the corner, half of them had already been bisected mid-stride.

The high frequency Vibroblade was a sliver of annihilation, humming almost like a purr when blade met armor. He pivoted low, metal heels scraping, then lunged; his spin twisted into a double cleave that sent clean-sliced helmets clattering.

Blasterfire lit the corridor behind him, milliseconds too late to strike true. Csariden was already running sideways along the wall, twisting mid-stride to fling a monomolecular dagger into a trooper’s visor.

The corpse flopped, and Csariden dropped back down, sliding under a burst of turret blaster fire before launching upward in a crackling burst of leg-mounted jets.
Two steps across the ceiling before dropping.
A kinetic dive straight into the turret mount, piercing it with the vibroblade and ripping the conduit out with his off-hand claw.

He landed in a crouch. Steam hissed from his back vents.

"Csariden," voice crackled. "Stormtroopers deploying blast shutters—two more squads inbound."

The second wave advanced in formation, motion sensors tracking movement, only to see nothing but sparks where Csariden had just been. A red blur. Limbs. Screams. Armor plates shattering.

He spun through them like a razorblade tempest. One soldier’s blaster was ripped free and hurled like a javelin into a power relay. Sparks erupted.

Only one remained. The trooper ran.

He didn’t get far.
A micro-harpoon line from Csariden’s wrist embedded itself in his backplate, retracting violently as Csariden closed the distance with an aerial knee to the spine, ending him in a dull crack.

Sudden stillness.

The cybernetic chiss moved to a nearby control alcove, fingers tapping rapidly as he interfaced with the deck terminal, ported in a dataspike, then opened his comms.

“Revenants. Status on the package.”

•••​

Spoiler: REVENANT POV — Three Minutes Earlier

“Brace it. Tilt left. No — my left, you half-cooked di'kut!”

A dolly creaked under the weight of the PLZ-class explosive. It was shaped like an overgrown fusion core with multiple stabilization claws and a blinking core running hot. An angry red.

The two Revenant zealots flanking it wore mismatched armor — old CEDF, parts of Chiss infiltration gear, and makeshift sigils scrawled on one shoulder pad in blood-red ink.

The lead commando sawed open a security gate with a handheld plasma cutter. The second shot a ceiling turret with an ion pistol.

“ETA three minutes to reactor core. Minimal resistance. We keep the cart moving.”
They ducked under piping as smoke filled the hallway, stepping over a fallen Kuati officer who’d been trying to barricade the entrance with a desk and two chairs.

He was still breathing.

They left him.

Behind them, the dolly beeped steadily.
The warhead was charging.

Madalena deWinter | Whottoomuzz Chantin | @Open​

 

[Madalena deWinter]

. : Madalena : .
The Wild Hunt
Csariden Whottoomuzz Chantin | open​

---

The lights flickered overhead as she stepped deeper into Dock 44, heels clicking softly against scorched plating. Bodies littered the corridor. Some were slumped where they'd been struck, others carved apart while they were moving. The air stank of ozone, burned plastoid, and blood. The bulkhead walls still vibrated with the echo of blasterfire and something sharper, faster.

The former head of the Wild Hunt walked through it like she was touring an art gallery.

No fear. No urgency. Only the occasional tilt of her head as she studied an angle of a cut, the placement of a wound. It was too clean to be rage. Too fast to be protocol. Too familiar not to be intentional. Her gaze caught on a set of helmet fragments, still warm, still smoking. One half had landed perfectly upright, visor angled toward her like a question.

She stopped in front of it.

Madalena Antares knew this scene, perhaps too well. How many times had she been the one to cause it? How many planets had quaked in fear knowing she was coming, whether with the Wild Hunt or those she had been with before? Forty years had passed for the galaxy, but scenes such as this were absolutely timeless. It made something inside of her sing in ways nothing had in far too long.

A breeze moved through the corridor as pressure change from another blast door giving way somewhere nearby. Her eyes had sharpened now. Focused. There was someone ahead of her. Madalena let her senses brush forward before her as she tried to understand what she was feeling. This wasn't… This was…

She followed the trail without rush. Sooner or later, she would find her prey.

And she was beginning to enjoy it.

 

[Csariden]

ＲＥＶＥＮＧＥ
Kuat Orbital Shipyards

The last stormtrooper fell in two pieces before his boots even hit the deck.

Csariden stepped over him without breaking stride, the HF vibroblade humming at a pitch that set every metal surface in the corridor thrumming. His left arm's servo-locks hissed as he shook flecks of steaming green ichor from the blade’s edge. The air reeked of scorched plasteel, propellant, and alien blood.

Up ahead, a cargo lift rattled to a stop. He was on it before the doors could open, tearing them apart with a kick that dented the far bulkhead. The stormtroopers inside didn’t even have time to level their rifles—he was already past them in a silver-and-blue blur, severing limbs and weapons in the same stroke. The clang of durasteel rifles hitting the floor trailed behind him like punctuation.

He ran the walls through the next hangar bay, boots magnetizing only for the barest moments to redirect momentum. A wrist-mounted grapnel spat a monofilament tether into an overhead crane; he swung on it low, the vibroblade cutting through three security droids in a single flash of silver and static.

The Revenants were where he’d told them to be. Black-armored silhouettes shoving a PLZ on a heavy dolly toward the station’s reactor access doors. One peeled off just long enough to lob a thermal detonator down an intersecting hall; the dull whump of overpressure was their insurance policy.

“Clear path to the payload. Arm it.” His voice was flat over the comms, but the Revenants moved faster.

He dropped from the catwalk to meet them, boots hitting the deck in time with a final arc of the vibroblade that split an onrushing KX-series droid from collar to pelvis. Sparks fell like rain.

Across the hangar, the bulk form of Whottoomuzz Chantin loomed over a knot of shredded security drones, his E-Web still steaming. The Hutt’s arrival had gutted Dock 31 as surely as the torpedoes had, and the scorched air between them smelled like victory.

“Bomb’s in place. Clock starts now.” Csariden’s cybernetic eye whirred as it focused on the reactor doors. “We’re burning time.”

Somewhere deep in the station, the reactor’s heartbeat thrummed through the deck. In less than ten minutes, if no one stopped them, the PLZ would rip through the shipyard’s spine—sending hundreds of meters of Imperial war-forging industry tumbling into Kuat’s gravity well.

He turned toward the nearest holocam—intact, by design.
“You’ve seen the headlines. You know what comes next.” The blade lifted, glinting cold light back into the lens. “Kuat falls tonight. And this is only the first cut.”

They’d turn this wreckage into something useful. A place to stage more strikes. Right inside the heart of the Empire.
Closer to him.

The hunt was still on.​

Whottoomuzz Chantin | @OPEN | Proximity: Dock 31 – Reactor Access​

 

[Csariden]

The Revenants were no villains, nor soldiers. Just black-armored shapes, cybernetically enhanced, each moving with a mechanical precision that felt more like inevitability than urgency.

One kept the dolly’s handles locked in their armored grip, servos whining as they forced the PLZ charge forward over shattered decking. Another paced ahead, every footstep deliberate, blaster reports punctuating each turn of their head.

A half-squad of Imperial technicians tried to hold the next checkpoint. The lead Revenant never slowed—just raised a vibrospear and drove it through the nearest chestplate. The others opened fire in controlled bursts, dropping targets with no wasted movement.

No flourishes. No declarations. Just a steady push toward the reactor doors, the shape of the bomb framed between their shoulders like a promise.

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

"Dock 31 patogga. Jee-jeejee bu doo reebo bu klona, konchee bolla mah patogga."

The last barricade broke beneath the haft of Whottoomuzz’s electrostaff, sparking as twisted durasteel folded away into the gutted corridor beyond. Dock 31’s hangar was a scorched ruin — bodies, drones, and slagged defense turrets strewn like discarded credits after a rigged game.

Above the carnage, the Kajidic’s Pride hung broadside to the breach, ventral hangar doors yawning wide. Turbolasers stitched the void behind her with warning fire, keeping Imperial pursuit at arm’s length.

Whottoomuzz’s voice rolled through the shattered concourse, amplified by Shyran Dol’s external speakers.

"An kin Chiss un bu jujunkee, tah do mi. Jee jeejee bu chee joojoo wermo, reeboo."

His E-Web swiveled and tore apart a trio of stormtroopers trying to rush the choke point. Armor plating steamed under blaster impacts as he pushed forward, clearing debris with single-armed sweeps. The station’s deck trembled beneath them — the reactor’s dying heartbeat pounding louder with every step.

He loomed in the breach, a living wall between the evacuees and the chaos beyond. Beyond him, the Kajidic’s Pride’s hangar shimmered with shielded air, ready to swallow every soul who made it to her deck.

They would leave in fire. The Chiss would remember who offered the way out; their Credits alone were worth the risk exposure.

Csariden Madalena deWinter @OPEN​

 

[Csariden]

❖ CSARIDEN ❖
Rebuilt For Revenge.

Whottoomuzz’s guttural call over the comms was the final signal.

Csariden emerged from the smoke with a limp in his step and someone else’s blood still dripping from the edge of his high-frequency vibroblade. A pair of stormtroopers broke cover to cut him down, but the blade flashed once—twice—and both fell in pieces, clattering against the deck like discarded armor plating. The corridor ahead was already slick with coolant, oil, and worse.

Through the breach, the bulk of the Kajidic’s Pride loomed like a sanctuary wrapped in gunmetal. The Hutt’s turbolasers spoke in punctuation—sharp bursts of red fire into the void—keeping the hangar’s path open just long enough.

He crossed the hangar floor with the other survivors and insurgents, herding Chiss civilians and armed allies alike up the loading ramp. A pair of battered prisoners in Imperial uniforms were shoved along with them, faces pale under blood and bruises. Csariden didn’t care who they’d been serving an hour ago; they’d have their use.

The deck trembled beneath their boots.

Through the hangar’s half-shielded breach, Csariden could see the other fight—the Revenants wrestling the PLZ charge into place. A flash of comm static was all the confirmation he needed. His jaw’s cybernetics clicked as he gave the only order that mattered.

"Light it."

---

The first implosion came without sound, just a sudden, sickening distortion in the air, as if the station itself had been punched in the gut. A section of the orbital ring folded inward on itself, crushed to slag in less than a heartbeat.

Then the reactor went.

A column of white-blue fire punched out through the station’s spine, tearing durasteel like wet paper. Segments of the ring snapped free, spinning off into space in long, graceful arcs before breaking apart in incandescent fragments.

Windows all across the habitat burst outward. Civilian vessels, shuttles, and maintenance craft were caught in the shockwave; spun end over end, hulls buckling or vanishing into the firestorm. The station’s artificial gravity failed mid-collapse, flinging bystanders, debris, and the uncounted dead into the void.

From the Kajidic’s Pride’s deck, the glow lit Csariden’s pale hair and the gleam of his implants in stark relief. No cheers. No speeches. Just the reflection of ruin in red Chiss eyes.

One more scar for the Empire. One more step toward the grave they’d dug for themselves.

---

Days later, the wreckage continued to tumble, each fragment a drifting tomb. The nav-officer quietly marked coordinates as the inciting Chiss plotted salvage rights. It would not remain debris for long. The Revengeancy would turn the bones of Kuat’s pride into something far worse—a forward operating base aimed squarely at the Empire’s capital.

fin​