Public The End of the Beginning: Mahporeem's First Ever Faction Thread!

[Teckla Tane]

​

Quasesitorum Operational Record

Objective: I: TACTICAL TRAINING
Location: Nolloth Training Zone, Mahporeem
Equipment: See Bio
Tags: John Mahporeem | OPEN
Dialogue Key:
”Galactic Basic” |
<<Telepathic Communication>>

​

Teckla felt it before she saw it. A ripple against the edge of her awareness—subtle, deliberate, and just flawed enough to be obvious. Illusion. Not crude. Not careless. But performed.

Her boots carried her forward through the half-constructed streets of Nolloth as Quasesitorum forces advanced in disciplined formation around her. The skeletal framework of unfinished buildings cast long shadows across duracrete, broken only by the sharp hum of engines and the distant scream of atmospheric fighters overhead.

Then the enemy came. Or rather—appeared to. A tide of bodies spilling into the streets ahead. Dozens becoming hundreds. Hundreds becoming thousands. A press of armored figures surging forward with impossible density, their movement too uniform, too synchronized to be real.

Teckla did not slow. “Maintain advance,” she said evenly over comms.
No hesitation. No break in cadence. Because this was the test. Not of firepower—but of perception.

Her awareness expanded outward, not in force, but in control. A steadying pressure. A quiet alignment. The Quasesitorum did not surge recklessly into the illusion, nor did they falter before it. Their formation tightened. Lines corrected. Weapon arcs adjusted with mechanical precision.

Battle Meditation.

Not overwhelming. Not domineering. Just enough. A thread of clarity woven through each trooper’s mind. A subtle reinforcement of instinct. Fear dulled. Focus sharpened. The illusion lost its teeth—not because it vanished, but because it was no longer believed.

Blasterfire erupted. The real enemy revealed themselves in flashes—movement breaking from the false mass. Junkyard Knights slipping between projections, training sabers igniting as they closed distance with surgical intent.

“Precision teams,” Teckla continued, voice calm. “Discriminate targets. Ignore the excess.” Four rifle teams dropped into position almost immediately, rifles stabilizing against partial cover as they began picking apart the truth hidden within the deception. Each shot deliberate. Each impact forcing the illusion to fracture further.

Above them, the sky ignited. “Ascendant Command to Pike Squadron,” Teckla transmitted without looking up. “Engage hostile air.” A sharp acknowledgment cut through comms. Twelve QSV-2 Ordinant Pike Interceptors screamed into formation, diving through the cloud layer like blades drawn from the void. Across the skyline, the X3-A Strikers banked hard to intercept, their engines flaring as the two formations collided in a violent dance of speed and precision.

The first pass was immediate. Lances of light tore through the air as both squadrons exchanged fire at breakneck velocity. The Pikes did not scatter—they pivoted. Tight, aggressive maneuvers that spoke of untested designs pushed to their limits.

“Drive them off,” Teckla added simply. She did not need to say more. On the ground, the advance continued. Heavy Assault Speeders surged forward along the flanks, their weapon systems tearing through cover points where Junkyard Knights attempted to reposition. The Juggernaut unit followed at the centerline, an immovable presence forcing open the path ahead while infantry pressed behind it in controlled waves. Recon elements ghosted through adjacent structures, feeding targeting data back to the Mobile Command Vehicle as the battlefield began to resolve itself from chaos into structure.

Control. Order. Progress. And beneath it all—him.

Teckla’s stride slowed for the first time. There. Not the illusion. The source. Darken Kennbois. His presence in the Force was distinct—not overwhelming, but deliberate in its manipulation. The illusion had been crafted not to deceive entirely, but to invite. A lure.

Teckla’s gaze lifted slightly, though her helmet concealed the shift. “Vigile Arcturos,” she said over a private channel. A beat.

“I have command,” came the measured reply—calm, assured, Force-sensitive.

“Maintain advance. Do not pursue anomalies beyond objective parameters.”

“Yes, Archon.”

Teckla stepped out of formation. Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Simply—redirected. The flow of battle continued around her without disruption as she moved toward the half-finished structure where Darken and his forces lay in wait. The illusion still flickered across her vision, but now it was background noise. Irrelevant.

Her hand lowered slightly toward the hilt at her side. Not yet drawn. Not needed.

“You wanted to be found,” she said quietly, more to the Force than to any comm channel. The air within the structure felt different as she crossed its threshold—charged, expectant. The echoes of movement above, the subtle shifts of those waiting to strike.

Teckla did not stop. Did not call out. Did not announce herself. She simply advanced toward him, her presence no longer diffused across the battlefield but focused—precise, sharpened into a singular point of intent.

Outside, the war game raged. Inside—The real test was about to begin.

Spoiler: ”QUASESITORUM FORCES”

• Ground Forces
  • 2x Assault Squads
  • 1x Heavy Support Unit
  • 4x Precision Rifle Teams
  • 2x Recon Elements
  • 1x Mobile Command & Sensor Vehicle
  • 2x Heavy Assault Speeders
  • 1x Field Medicae & Recovery Team
• Air Support
  • 1 squadron (12) QSV-2 “Ordinant Pike” Interceptor
  • QSV-6 "Justicar" Boarding Shuttle x 4

 

[Illithor Du'thra]

Objective II: Corrox Central
Location: Corrox, Mahporeem
Tags: | Prystill Oasay | Saltare Dothon | Ronhar Tane | Laphisto |

Illithor finally arrived once more on Mahporeem, after traveling back to Taris to attend to the Council of Towers within its republic. This time coming with four shiny new prototype guards Illithor was ready to talk more and see pod racing in one of the more dangerous tracks.

The planet wasn't like where his corporate headquarters were on the shores of the Tarisian sea. A sea that covered a third of the planet and teemed with life again thanks to Aleratha Tel'alith 's families company doing genetic work & restoration. He looked out the window of the shuttle as they landed. The spaceport was in good order but with that signature Mahporeem mismatched look. Stepping out his soft boot steps followed by the mattalic clanking of eight droid feet made an odd sound to most... himself included.

After a short time the small group finally arrived at the meeting place. Illithor pulled out his credentials and showed them to the guard. A moment passed before he was waved in... one droid unarmed allowed to walk in.

It was quite a nice place Ronhar Tane had built "Greetings, sorry for my tardiness. I had a few more bills to have lively discussions over in the Tarisian Council of Towers than I thought I would. I am excited to see race, the track is infamous" Turning to everyone else "Hello, I am Illithor Du'thra, CEO of my families business Du'thra Engineering. Pleasure to make all of your acquaintances."

Illithor then motions to his left "This is a finale prototype of what the government and its corporate allies have been working on." Up walks to droid showcasing the robustness of the Tarisian Republics droid bolstered armies.

 

[KV-027]

Location: Junkyard - Mahporeem
Objective: Secure the Scrap
Tag: Vark Kur Novac Lyrikal Her The Lord of Hunger

Standing in the midst of a vast expanse of ruined starships, broken-down droids, scrap, and various junkyard heavy machines, KV-027 struggled to comprehend everything that she had witnessed over the last half-hour. Mahporeem. A world home to the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant, which was arguably the most public face of Imperialism within the Slice region since the collapse of the Imperial Confederation. They were the scrap empire of the Outer Rim and the Slice, a fitting title for an Imperial remnant faction based on a world where scrapyards sprawled across entire continents.

Still, even awed by the junkyard around her, KV-027 remained hyper-vigilant, a state which came as naturally to her as breathing. She had been tasked with patrolling the junkyard for unsanctioned scrappers, roving Junk Droids, Mahporeem Militia raids, and rogue Junktroopers. With the ongoing audit, it was her responsibility to ensure that every scrapper in her assigned sector bore official authorization, along with proper identification and documentation on their persons. As part of that duty, she was also tasked with preventing valuable salvage from falling into illicit hands or vanishing unaccounted for.

“Your documents are clear. You are free to go.” KV-027 said to the last scrapper in line, a female Twi’lek clad in the typical protective garb of a professional scrapper. She handed back the Twi’lek’s documents then, stamped to verify that they had already been checked. However, just as she did, thunder rumbled through the scrapyard, followed by a sharp crack as black lightning ripped across the skyline, striking an area nearby. The stormtrooper glanced up immediately, her blaster rifle raised as she focused her helmet’s optics on the impact zone, there catching sight of a toxic-looking black miasma curling upward from the area.

Towering, white-plated droids clad in crimson cloaks emerged from the cloud. N&Z models that she immediately recognized. While the N&Z Umbrella Corporation had been close corporate allies of the Imperial Confederation, KV-027 knew that with the Confederation’s collapse, their loyalties might have changed. They were allies of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant, but whether the same was true for their relationships with other Confederation remnant factions remained a mystery. Regardless, KV-027 knew that she would have to be wary.

“All troopers, remain in your assigned sectors,” came the masculine voice of her squad lead over comms. “If N&Z units approach your sector, request their authorization, but do not engage or initiate hostilities.” He added.

A few moments later, another message pinged through, keyed with signatures that marked it as coming directly from Mahporeem Armed Forces Command. KV-027 paused, listening silently as the transmission played. Hostile elements were confirmed in her area and full lethal force had been authorized to deal with them.

The possibility that she would see combat was almost certain.

KV-027 placed her blaster rifle on her back, swapping it for her Model 216—a heavy 4-gauge shotgun of Mahporeemian design, which she had loaded with metallic slugs capable of blowing fist-sized holes in massive Sithspawn warbeasts. She turned, catching sight of Junk Droids atop a ridge of scrap being fired upon by a Shistavanen scrapper armed with a compact blaster.

The stormtrooper broke into a sprint towards the ridge, her boots finding swift purchase on the rough terrain. A Junk Droid appeared on top of the scrap heap, its photoreceptor glowing like a malevolent amber eye. KV-027 snapped her crosshairs onto the automaton and opened fire. A 4-gauge slug punched into its glowing photoreceptor in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, sending the droid tumbling down the ridge in a twisted heap!

“Enemy contact in my sector! Junk droid neutralized!”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Ironstorm-pattern Stormtrooper Armor - First Order Stormtrooper Armor Aesthetic Permutation
  
  • Arms
    
    • Small Hardpoints
      
      • Grappling Device - L
      • Repulsor Projector - R
  • Back Hardpoint
    
    • Phase III "Force Avenger" Energy Shield
• G-22 Imperial Standard Blaster Rifle
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (8)
• Model 216 "Big Game Hunter"
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Metallic Slug (31)
• Ion Slicer Vibroknife
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• VKA-7J “Hurricane” Combat Stimulant (8)
• BWE Healing Capsules (4)
• BWE Soldier Survival Solution (2)

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
CORROX CENTRAL, MAHPOREEM
OBJECTIVE II: CORROX CENTRAL

Ronhar listened intently to Colonel Saltare Dothon as he began making his case for why he was here in the first place. It was a fairly standard opening, as the Colonel rebutted Ronhar's assertion that accepting the promotions offered to them was the smart thing to do. He then went on to explain the current situation at hand, something that Ronhar was unfortunately all to familiar with. What he wasn't familiar with, however, was the dataslate that Dothon had brought with them, or perhaps more accurately, the information stored on it.

"The information on that slate was recovered during our latest operation on Kolene. It's valuable enough to give Inferno, and Mahporeem, a leg up over any other unit we've been operating against. Inferno lacks the infrastructure to produce it at scale while our forces remain scattered in retreat. Mahporeem does not."

Ronhar took a moment to view the information that Dothon was taking about. He had to agree with Dothon's assessment, as the armor that the dataslate was pertaining too was perhaps some of the most advanced that Ronhar had seen, at least up until the fall of the Imperial Confederation. Anyone wearing that armor would be both well protected and well equipped against most conceivable threats that one might encounter out in the field, though Dothon was also correct when stating that Inferno Squadron would be unable to produce them in any meaningful numbers while Mahporeem could.

It was obvious that Dothon was asking the Imperial Remnant to produce the armor for him and his squad, and honestly, if that was what he had wanted then he just should have come out and said it. Ronhar had no intention of turning him down or refusing his request, though he couldn't blame Dothon for being cautious. After all, there were no guarantees that the Imperial Remnant was still aligned with Imperial or Confederation goals, though naturally Ronhar was still very much devoted to the Imperial cause.

"The Galaxy is in turmoil, Captain. Inferno stands ready to restore order, as we always have. I ask you if the Remnant will help our cause, and in return, Inferno will be in your debt."

"Honestly Colonel, as much as your presentation was appreciated, I can assure you it wasn't necessary. Both I and the Imperial Remnant remain committed to the Imperial cause and the continued success of our friends and allies, as we always have and always will. I see no issue with your request, and we can have the production of Inferno's new armor sets up and running within the next couple of weeks. I trust that time table will be acceptable?"

Before Ronhar could hear Dothon's reply however, the doors opened once more as Illithor Du'thra walked in.

"Greetings, sorry for my tardiness. I had a few more bills to have lively discussions over in the Tarisian Council of Towers than I thought I would. I am excited to see race, the track is infamous. Hello, I am Illithor Du'thra, CEO of my families business Du'thra Engineering. Pleasure to make all of your acquaintances."

"Master Du'thra, a pleasant surprise to see that you've made it", Ronhar responded as he walked toward the CEO. "Does that mean..."?

"This is a finale prototype of what the government and its corporate allies have been working on", Du'thra replied as he motioned toward the droid guards that had accompanied him into the room. Ronhar began looking the droid over from top to bottom, and started asking Du'thra about the specifications of the droids themselves.
​

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Spoiler: Ronhar's Loadout

• Comlink
• Imperial Field Armor
• Ion Slicer Vibroknife
• SE-26p Heavy Blaster Pistol
• ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannisters

TAGS:
Saltare Dothon
Laphisto
Illithor Du'thra
OPEN

 

[Vark Kur]

VOID TOLL

The canyon of scrap narrowed into a jagged choke point, metal walls rising on either side like the ribs of some long-dead colossus. Vark moved through it with quick, practiced steps—light on his feet despite the uneven terrain—while the clatter of pursuing junk droids echoed behind him.

Then the shotgun blast cracked. Loud. Heavy. Final. Vark slowed just enough to glance over his shoulder as the lead droid he’d been baiting crested the ridge—only to have its photoreceptor erupt in a violent spray of sparks and twisted plating. The thing collapsed backward, taking another with it in a screeching tumble.

“...Well,” Vark muttered, coming to an easy stop as the rest of the pack hesitated, their crude processors recalculating. “That’s one way to handle it.”

He turned fully now, spotting the stormtrooper advancing up the slope—clean lines of white armor cutting through the grime of the scrapyard, weapon still smoking faintly from the shot. Efficient. Alert. The kind that actually paid attention. Unfortunate.

Vark straightened a touch, posture shifting just enough to look like he belonged there—like he’d been working, not leading a pack of half-feral droids through the wreckage for his own purposes. His free hand came up in a casual, almost lazy salute.

Two fingers to the brow. A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “Appreciate the assist, trooper,” he called, voice carrying just enough to be heard over the groan of shifting metal. “Was starting to think I’d have to do all the heavy lifting myself.”

Another droid twitched nearby, trying to reorient. Vark casually drew and fired once, the bolt punching through its chassis and dropping it in a heap—just enough to sell the act. Helpful. Cooperative. Exactly the kind of scrapper you didn’t look at twice.

“Got a few more skittering around deeper in the heap,” he added, already stepping backward, angling his body away from her line of approach. “Figured I’d circle around, flush ‘em out from the other side.”

Not a lie. Just… not the part that mattered. Because as he shifted, his eyes flicked once—brief, measuring—toward the direction of that black lightning strike. Toward the real disturbance. Toward where organized droids and something far more interesting had just made their entrance.

And where a man like Vark Kur could get very, very rich. He gave the trooper one last easy grin, all teeth and mischief. “Try not to miss all the fun.”

Then he turned, slipping into the maze of scrap with deceptive casualness—pace unhurried, shoulders loose—until the jagged walls swallowed him from sight. Only once he was out of direct view did that easy stride sharpen, footsteps quickening as he angled away from the patrol path and deeper into the wreckage.

Away from oversight. Toward opportunity. Because if something big had just punched its way into Mahporeem’s scrap fields…Vark intended to be the first rat at the feast.

Vark “Grease-Fang” Kur
• Location: Scrapyards of Mahporeem
• Objective 3: Secure the Scrap
• Company: OPEN

 

[KV-027]

Location: Junkyard - Mahporeem
Objective: Secure the Scrap
Tag: Vark Kur Novac Lyrikal Her The Lord of Hunger

KV-027 crested the ridge just as the Junk Droid she had felled moments earlier came to a halt at the bottom of the heap, having collected another of its kin in its tumbling descent. She sighted her shotgun and fired again, a loud, heavy crack sounding out as the 4-gauge slug ripped through the second droid, the impact shattering its chassis into pieces of smoking scrap.

Lowering her shotgun, KV-027 swept her gaze across the immediate area, searching for further threats. Then, she turned her attention to the Shistavanen scrapper, fixing him with a half-lidded, scrutinizing stare from beneath the expressionless mask of her stormtrooper helmet. The scrapper offered her his thanks and stepped back, angling himself away from her line of approach.

“Stay right there, scrapper. I need to see your—wait!” KV-027 gave a sharp exhale as the Shisatavenan took off into the canyon, before slipping deeper into the maze of scrap. Still, the stormtrooper didn’t waste time. She descended into the canyon, taking extra care to watch her footing as she traversed the rough, scrap-strewn terrain, dirtying her armor in the process. Of course, she had known going into her deployment on Mahporeem that her armor would inevitably become smeared with junkyard grime, dust, and residue. And yet, seeing the pristine white surface now stained, she pursed her lips in annoyance, quietly resolving to put the armor through a deep, thorough cleansing at the first opportunity. While she respected the Mahporeem Junktroopers as fellow Imperials, she did not want to look like them, if she could help it.

Once she reached the canyon floor, KV-027 drew a syringe from her belt and stabbed it into her thigh through the armorweave. Her senses resolved into crystal clarity as the stimulant took hold, slowing the world to a crawl within her perception. She pressed deeper into the maze, her shotgun held at high ready as she moved. With the Junk Droids’ presence, she was beginning to sense that there was a not-insignificant scrap find in the area. Whatever it was, the stormtrooper intended to secure it, so that it might serve the Imperial cause!

Spoiler: Loadout

• Ironstorm-pattern Stormtrooper Armor - First Order Stormtrooper Armor Aesthetic Permutation
  
  • Arms
    
    • Small Hardpoints
      
      • Grappling Device - L
      • Repulsor Projector - R
  • Back Hardpoint
    
    • Phase III "Force Avenger" Energy Shield
• G-22 Imperial Standard Blaster Rifle
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (8)
• Model 216 "Big Game Hunter"
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Metallic Slug (30)
• Ion Slicer Vibroknife
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• VKA-7J “Hurricane” Combat Stimulant (7)
• BWE Healing Capsules (4)
• BWE Soldier Survival Solution (2)

 

[Her]

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Tags: Vark Kur | The Lord of Hunger | KV-027 | John Mahporeem

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Equipment:

• SANTHE-1 ' Vigilance ' "Transmitter"

~

Rays of dusk settled across the cell which held an enigmatic Sith called Her. Their prison is Shiraya's Sanctuary. It can be found along a continent high up in a mountain range on the Mid Rim world of Naboo and also serves as the home to the Jedi Order who captured the Warden Primus after a meeting between the Jedi Council and the enigma ended with more questions than answers. They had elected to take Her in against their will. Naturally she remained elusive to the Jedi even now as she hung here in their cells. Not even their walls could stop the proverbial hand from reaching forth to claim power they would soon come to fear.

There was a time when the Jedi played home to cartographers who charted the known hyperlanes and star sectors all the way through to the expanse where regions such as The Slice which played home to Mahporeem. Her quietly wondered what their captors would make of it if they were ever to discover the act of duplicity that was taking place within their home. After all there was a chance that not even Jorus Merrill had come across this junkyard found on the edges of the Outer Rim Territories to give them some insight into the links that Her held out there on the edge.

As morning broke outside and the rays of light cascaded through an opening above them Her sprawled themselves in the centre of the cell hanging a mere metre up from the ground below via the naval of their waist and the hind of their legs. Suspended through a combination of their garments (tied tightly to a railing lining the top of the cell) and a certain balance one has to endure to keep themselves from falling down (or hitting the walls) Her found their eyes staring down at the ground as she hung in the air, and yet, it was not the marble flooring of the sanctuary's cell which captured their interest, nor the specks of dust upon the edifice which confined them, but it instead came in the form of radio chatter which played into their ear from a peculiar device obtained with thanks to the now defunct Santhe Corporation.

The source came from a client that Vūm had procured from the former offices of Santhe. They were based on Bimmisaari and that was how Her liked it. Never their own people. Always acting behind someone or something else. Umbrella Corp were beginning to know their plays now, Her quietly feared. According to the initial analysis that they were conducting on Her's behalf amid the scrap and fog it appeared that nothing of note or substance had been discovered yet which was, in hindsight, what had made Her ignore Mahporeem and it's Imperial remnant in the first place. Junk is everywhere and more of it seemingly endlessly sprawled all across the world like a scar that couldn't be covered up. It came with many logistical issues that were both complicated and too long to list that came about as a direct cause of all of this rubbish, and what would the Rule of Two want with such things?

The Great Corrox Conference was another indicator that Mahporeem was doomed. It was just another dystopian shithole found in the edges of the known universe and Her wasn't in the business of helping others. Neither were the invitees who had come to hear about the planets plans and turned their eye away at the prospect of working on this pile of shit; and yet their contributions to Project Tion could not be ignored. There was something here that went beyond logistical analysis and sense which revealed untapped potential waiting to be unleashed by someone like Her. So the Bimmisaari continued their analysis and their chatter murmured quietly into Her's ear which was at odds to the tranquil surroundings that she had been incarcerated into. There were Jedi children playing somewhere nearby and the sounds of their joy were the antitheist to the things that she was being told about Mahporeem first-handed by the analysts that were traversing the rubbish, the dirt, and the fog to find something that the Rule of Two were looking for.

Then they found it.

[USE OF LETHAL FORCE HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED. DISPOSE OF THE INTERLOPERS WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.]

[GLORY TO MAHPOREEM! GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!]

This is how they always get in.

They had come to him as worthwhile supplicants to the Eggman's cause, and with Kilran, who had supplanted Aculia Voland to seat himself as an Emperor, would need a sophisticated instrument to bring about his goals. They had provided it through the corruption of the New Imperial Security Bureau that gave birth to the Fifth Wing and hadn't Ravelin quaked, friends?

Then they went to Von Strauss, who had dragged what was left of the Liann regime back from the brink of destruction, in order to form the Imperial Sector Authority at Mon Cala. He required, back then, the mechanisms to quell the rioting and rebellions that had formed across Imperial territory after the Sartinaynian Crisis and they had supplied it through the formation of the Imperial Corrections Directorate who had brought about a dystopia in Lianna City which had been trampled under the jackboots of the dreaded Imperial Stormtrooper, and then after Brosi, the Mandalorian wrath, and Sith revenge.

It was the N&Z who had differed from the usual course. They had come to them in order to recruit the engima into their multi-sectored, galactic-spanning conglomerate so as to distract and supplant the expectations or observations of would-be scrutiny and interference of competitors so that the company could lodge itself deep rooted into the foundations of Imperial power across the Outer Rim Territories. They gotten more than what even they had bargained for, Amalia feared.

Even a Diarch had needed them for it was they who knew how to unveil the mystery of Kakus to his long lost son. It had cost Rellik dearly.
Children died on Vexis Station and the subsequent war which erupted on Yaga Minor could not be stopped through their machinations. Now the Diarchy is no-more. Rellik and Reign should have joined them when the offer had been made in the vaults of the Ashlan Crusade. There can only be two. No more, no less.

Now Mahporeem would need them too.

"Focus your survey on the areas containing the hostiles," Her muttered into their ear careful not to alert the Jedi that she was, once again, working to embed themselves into the inner workings and machinations of another nation tied distinctly to what was left of Imperial power.

---

 

[Captain Charles]

The Stryker dropped out of hyperspace near Mahporeem and Charles laid his eyes for the first time on the Capital of his new home. It was like Captain Ronhar had told him a sprawling world of scrap, junk to the untrained eye but in fact valuable resources to any faction. As the Stryker descended to land Charles looked back upon the final moment that had brought him here.

The departure from the location he met Ronhar and Sarah left him feeling triumphant. Once Ronhar left and Sarah was escorted to her quarters he had gathered the crew in the mess hall. All 750 plus the 100 Marines crammed together. Charles had known that his crew must have picked up on what was happening at this point but he wanted to make an announcement to make sure that they were on the same page. He gave a brief summary of their situation, that they had joined up with a new Imperial Faction, and how they now had a chance to bring back the Imperial Dream. The crew had erupted into cheers with even the gruff Major Voss smiling and clapping.

The Stryker touched down on a landing pad in Corrox Central and the crew began to disembark for the first time in what seemed like forever. Charles decided to let the crew have a week long liberty. They would stay Quartered on the Stryker but he thought it best that they got to explore and intermingle with the other Imperials. Besides after that crazy adventure he thought they deserved it. After that they would return to conduct refits to the Stryker along with Mahporeem’s ground crews. He had also let Private Vulke go.

In the meantime, Charles decided he would take his officers to meet the other Imperial leadership. He wanted to learn more about their goals and ambitions. Charles certainly had some of his own, but he wanted to fall in line with faction leadership too as to cause as little trouble as possible. Whatever, the faction needed help with he was ready to assist either by bringing new ideas to the table or going out on new missions.

Links:

• IMS Stryker

 

[joseph kav]

Objective III
As joseph kav began to land his ship he noticed the sheer enormity of the scrap that had been discarded on this planet he picked up a engine that had fell of a wrecked Starfighter and chucked hit on his ship he carried on collecting scrap all through the night slicing up the junk droids that tried to challenge him eventually he'd collected a large sum of scrap just enough so that he could still take offf he flew back to Ronhar Tane and presented his findings

 

[Sarah Vulke]

Ronhar Tane Captain Charles
​

A free woman.

It had not taken long for the restraints to come off. The Imperial cause, fractured and starving as it was, could scarcely afford to discard loyalists willing to still believe in it. The collapse of both the Galactic Empire and the Imperial Confederation had left behind isolated pockets of Imperial unity scattered throughout the known galaxy like dying embers refusing to extinguish themselves.

There was something almost painfully ironic about it, that the restoration of Imperialism—the inevitable counter-revolution that so many dreamt of in silence—would likely be born from the very same conditions of rebellion, instability, and fragmentation that had toppled it time and time again.

History had a sense of humor like that.

Stepping down from the IMS STRYKER onto the scarred surface of Mahporeem, Sarah paused only briefly to offer Captain Charles a clean, disciplined salute before disembarking fully. The officer had proven himself reasonable, adaptable. Valuable traits in a collapsing age.

Then she turned her attention outward.

Immediately, she began searching for signs of old Imperial survivors from the Galactic Empire itself. Veterans. Mechanized corpsmen. Stormtroopers. Naval personnel. Anyone who still carried fragments of that older flame. They would naturally be rare here, likely distrusted by the larger body of former Confederation personnel that now dominated the remnants gathering upon the world.

But as her eyes swept across the settlement before her, the reality she found was far more somber than she anticipated. It was the Imperial nightmare in its final form.

Men marched through rust and ruin in mismatched uniforms stitched together from half-forgotten campaigns and scavenged supply depots. Armor plates bore conflicting insignias from dead commands and shattered fleets. Tattered banners hung limply from metal poles, too worn even for the wind to carry properly.

No triumph, no glory hint of glory. The image before her, a broken people clinging desperately to the memory of purpose.

Once, Imperial banners had stretched across the stars themselves. Entire sectors trembled beneath the weight of fleets that seemed eternal. Millions had willingly marched into frozen deserts, plague-ridden jungles, and burning orbital sieges believing utterly in the idea that they were building something greater than themselves.

Now their ideological descendants scavenged amongst ruins.

Sarah's face remained calm, unreadable, almost detached from the misery surrounding her. Yet somewhere deep beneath the disciplined stillness, she felt it, the crushing weight of history.

Every lesson she had ever studied led toward the same grim conclusion: these were the final days of a dying ideology. The galaxy had rejected the old truths. Strength over weakness. Order over chaos. Duty above self. Sacrifice for the continuation of civilization itself. The age of rulers had given way to the age of opportunists.

And worst of all, there was nobody here she recognized from the old Galactic Empire. No familiar armor patterns. No mechanized corps insignias. No lingering fragments of the machine that had once inspired billions to believe that order could truly conquer the stars.

Still, despite the exhaustion etched into the camps and the despair hanging over Mahporeem like a funeral shroud, the remnants endured. They rebuilt, they scavenged, and they trusted one another when the rest of the galaxy had abandoned them. Above all else, they still followed leaders. Men and women stubborn enough to believe they could drag civilization back from the brink by force if necessary. Visionaries or madmen. Perhaps both.

As always, the difference depended entirely upon who survived long enough to write history.

Sarah slowly surveyed the battered encampment one final time, then, without another word, she continued forward into the heart of the dying remnant. For even now…

They still raged against the dying of the light.

 

[Captain Charles]

CAPTAIN CHARLES
Corrox Central | Mahporeem​

The Crew were scattering off into different groups some went to the nearby bars, others to viewing stands to watch the pod racing, others stayed behind to talk with the ground crews or rest on the ship. Charles watched them go, laughing and talking, and almost smiled. He just hoped they didn’t end up in any drunken mess.

He summoned his Officers and they too began to walk around. Immediately, he noticed a stark contrast between his crew and the Imperial Remnant’s rank and file. Clean polished uniforms stuck out like a match in the dark against a sea of rag tag uniforms, some so patched together that Charles had difficulty recognizing what they were.

He looked back at his officers who were tailing him by a bit. They didn’t say anything but some looked a bit uncomfortable. It was understandable the IMS Stryker was sometimes like its own little bubble even when they were serving the New Imperial Order. The standards were higher yes, but at the same time relations between the Crew were less formal and more relaxed.

Charles looked to his left and saw a Stormtrooper with his helmet off sitting on a bench. The man looked like he was in his 40s with greying hair and beard. His face looked weathered and tired. His armor was dusty and worn, boots covered in grime. But his movements told a different story. Charles noticed how his hands picked apart his weapon with precision. Each piece diligently cleaned before he quickly put it back together like he had done it thousands times. The trooper didn’t even bother to look down.

Hes probably has been doing this while I was studying tactical theory at the Academy ruminated Charles. Hes doing this not because an inspection is coming up or doing pre-battle checks but because he is the only one who will.

Charles observed him for a moment longer than he intended. Despite appearances there was certainly much more depth to them, he thought. After all, it made people like him.

One of his junior officers spoke up, one of the new recruits that he had picked up from the Academy to fill out the rest of his Crew.

“Sir, the state of that…”. “Is what years of holding on with nothing looks like Lieutenant”. Charles said quietly without turning his head. “Be sure to remember that”.

He could hear his senior officers, men who all served with him since the Dauntless, murmuring in agreement. They had seen enough of the galaxy to know what the trooper represented.

“Shall we continue?”. Charles said as the party continued walking down the street.

 

[Captain Charles]

CAPTAIN CHARLES
Corrox Central | Mahporeem​

---

The further they walked, the harder it became to ignore. The refugees, makeshift slums, groups lining the streets huddled around makeshift heating sources and sifting through scrap. Captain Ronhar had already informed Charles about the situation but after seeing it in person only reinforced the urgency of the matter.

He stopped and turned around. “We have got to find a way to help these people out”. Charles commented quietly. They were loyal Imperial subjects that deserved to live comfortable and peaceful lives not whatever situation they are in now Charles thought. His Officers knew it wasn't a suggestion. Voss had stopped too. He didn’t say anything but Charles could tell what he was thinking.

They walked in silence for a bit after that. Charles didn’t feel like chatting and his Officers didn’t push. The streets of Corrox Central continued to buzz around them but he kept seeing more camps, more faces that stopped expecting things to get better. Charles filed everything away.

Continuing onward, Charles finally found what he had been looking for. A Cartographer's shop, neatly tucked away in between two scrap dealers. A small wooden sign hung above the worn entrance, System Data Outer Rim Surveys. Charles had the rest of his Officers wait outside while he and his Navigation Officer went inside.

“I take it you are new to these parts?” said the Cartographer from behind his desk. “How did you know?” responded Charles while looking at a shelf. “Pretty easy to tell with those uniforms. They look straight out of a recruitment poster”.

Charles looked at the man. Buried under a pile of charts and data pads was a man who looked like he had spent so much time in the Outer Rim he had become a part of it. The type of guy who measured time in hyperspace jumps rather than years.

“You are correct, we are indeed new arrivals Captain Charles of the IMS Stryker and this is my Navigation Officer” gesturing towards his Navigation Officer.

“Well, it’s good to see some fresh faces around here. Now what can I help you with?” responded the Cartographer warmly.

Charles walked over to his desked and leaned over looking at the Sector Map laid out on the table. “Anything worth an expedition around here?” he asked. “Easy!” responded the Cartographer tapping on the chart without hesitation. “This is Doan, a mining world rich in resources, but run by nobles who have no idea what they are sitting on, its a pity honestly. A lot of refugees coming from there as of late”.

“Ill take a map then thank you!”

“No problem feel free to stop by when you need anything else”.

With that Charles whirled around and exited the shop followed closely by his Navigation Officer.

“Back to the Ship Gentlemen! We have a new mission”.

 

[Saltare Dothon]

INFERNO SQUAD

Ronhar Tane Teckla Tane Laphisto Illithor Du'thra OPEN

---

Saltare felt a weight off his shoulders at Ronhar's reply. His weight shifted, his stance more relaxed, less rigid as he addressed Ronhar again.

"More than acceptable, Tane. I'll coordinate the transfer of the Bloodstone when I leave here. If you'll allow it, I would like to head to the training grounds and witness the engagements there."

Saltare noticed another individual enter the suite and addressed the room. Tane broke off their conversation and engaged with this new member, speaking of a new finale prototype of some type of droid.

Saltare caught Tane's eyes as he exited the suite, nodding in respect to the other man.

****

​

The training grounds. Saltare was on a platform overlooking the Remnant's display of troop movements during the wargames. It was here Saltare would wait for an opportunity or opponent to engage with. While the number of Inferno squadron members he had brought with him were minimal, training was training, no matter what.

---

 

[Illithor Du'thra]

Objective II: Corrox Central
Location: Corrox, Mahporeem
Tags: | Prystill Oasay | Saltare Dothon | Ronhar Tane | Laphisto |

A soldier walked out after speaking a few last words that weren't quite heard. I wonder who that was? Oh well a question for another time. But Ronhar Tane replied to him then Illithor.

"Master Du'thra, a pleasant surprise to see that you've made it", Ronhar responded as he walked toward the CEO. "Does that mean..."?

"This is a finale prototype of what the government and its corporate allies have been working on", Du'thra replied as he motioned toward the droid guards that had accompanied him into the room. Ronhar began looking the droid over from top to bottom, and started asking Du'thra about the specifications of the droids themselves.

Illithor chuckled, "That I am part of a government? Yes via being CEO the company has a seat in the Chamber of Towers. It's the upper house of the government. Now the droid I know has a brain from Tel'alith Labs and is a more robust formulation of Flax Stahl from Werr Drive Yards. As for its actual specs I am not one hundred percent sure. I am not privy to their construction, but I am given some as escorts being an official."

Illithor brushes his hand along the droids chassis "I can tell that they are taller than the ancient variety. But beyond that You may have to talk to the head of Werr Drive Yards, who happens to be the chancellor of the Tarisian Republic. She may tell you things." He knew his position in a government that was rapidly becoming aligned against his business field was one to carefully tread.

Mahporeem also could benefit from another company that's rapidly becoming in the same position. "Another thing to discuss, Tel'alith Labs is the company you should contact about ecological restoration. They rebuilt Taris's environment from heavily polluted to not. Then again they also Terraformed three of Taris's moons to have the skills to do so. Here is the contact information"

Illithor holds out a data puck that is marked with white and yellow bearing 'Tel'alith Labs' on its edge, motioning to take it.