The Final Hammer Blow [TSE Dominion of Ession]

[Kasa Shi]

| Residential Areas, Ession |

/Objective II - IV\

...A silhouette stirs upon the battlefield...​

Endowed was she, enraptured by a soltidue that no other mortal could understand. The dark that followed her, how it warped and slithered around her form and made her feel a beauty incomparable to any other sensation. Ego inflated, Kasa arrived to the slaughter a bit late. How she arrived or what her purpose was did not matter - at least not to the denizens of Ession. For she swarmed inward with the lot of the Sith Empire like an infestation. Relentless, roaring as a tidal wave before it wrought closure to the masses. But she did not stick close by, instead deciding to take fate in her own hands.​

​

Death littered the streets, those too cowardly or weak to fight back lay lifeless with angered or sorrowful expressions plastered to their faces. Eyes like glass stared daggers into the sky.​

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Incapable, fragile...​

​

They didn't stand a chance against those truly chosen and blessed by the Force - usurping thrones and razing homesteads and villages all to solidify the claims of power and conquest. These kinfolk, these wielders of malice and crimson were the truest reality Kasa could ever hope to come close to. Her mind was putrid, poisoned by an urge to feast upon the meat of like-species and other humanoids. And with this affliction came a volatile nature; it was explosive, detrimental to herself and everything around her.​

​

A decrepit phantom of what used to be a normal person.​

​

Kasa knelt down upon a bolt-riddled corpse, the wounds still warm and coursing with blood that was beginning its coagulation process. She lifted her helmet partially, dipping the index finger of her gloved right hand into a stream of flowing sanguine. Lifting it to her lips, she suckled and tasted the death before her. Sweet... yet bitter. A crooked smile twisted over her pale cheeks as she then used the Force to rip away the cadaver's left arm, pulling it within range of her face before grasping it.​

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She bit down on the spongy flesh, ripping away a chunk before gulping it down.​

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Sighing with absolute satisfaction, the Sith tossed the partially consumed limb away. Pulling her helmet back down with blood smearing all over her face, crusting at each corner of her mouth. ​

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Kasa stood idle for a brief moment before her head twitched suddenly and abruptly, a low chuckle emanating behind her chosen apparatus as she continued forward, seeking live prey to consume both in spirit and in physical form. The Atrisian's chuckle began to grow louder with each moment as madness began to take hold, replacing logic with the obscure and decadent. ​

​

Kasa scanned each building she came across, sensing... wanting. ​

​

She would find those that felt they could hide.​

​

Kasa hungered.​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective II/IV - Clear the residential areas AND test subjects for certain genetic markers for later experiments

Her lightsaber flashed out, ending the life of a soldier with a cleaving cut from shoulder to hip. Her forces had encountered a squad of Ession defense troopers trying to form a defensive position. Beyond it, she had sensed what felt like an evacuation or temporary safe zone for civilians as she sensed quite a few lifeforms beyond. Absolutely perfect. Her Adepts and Legionaries accompanying her had thrown themselves with a gusto against the enemy soldiers, and now, only two men were left. One was missing an arm, the other was still whole and was being held in place by two of her Adepts.

"Sith schutta!" the man spat.

"To you, maybe," she responded. She was indifferent to his opinion. Looking at one her Adepts, he jabbed a genetic test into the man's neck.

"Genetic Marker RFLP detected."

"Take him with the others," she said. The two Adepts holding him started dragging him off, his yells and threats of getting free falling on deaf and indifferent ears. He would be singing a different tune very soon indeed. She logged the corpses with the Saaraishash and, once her full force returned, they would assault this safe zone. She was confident they would find plenty of potential subjects.

 

[Dante Sotari]

While Dante had served the empire for over a year and a half, she had never interacted with the Lord of the Sith. She'd never even been in the same room, and for good reason. As a Lieutenant in the Legion there was no reason that she would have. Sure, she had seen him from a distance, heard his voice piped in to 'inspire'.

He was a lot taller than he looked from a distance.

A lot taller.

While her head was down, she kept her attention on his indications and rose when indicated.

It was bad enough with the 'offer' from the other sith (feckin' sith tho), but now there wasn't just two of them but one of them was the Emperor. Not that Dante had anything against the Sith. She worked for them. They paid her well. The dental was great, and she knew that the ghosts of her past couldn't touch her here (the last being the strongest reason to be here if she were being honest with herself, which she rarely was). But she preferred to appreciate all of those things from a distance, rather than up close.

Standing at attention, Dante remained silent. There was no reason for her to speak and she'd be damned if she'd call attention to herself.

[member="Jairus Starvald"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Dante Sotari"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

"Your offer is most welcome, but luckily my property was outside of the fallout zone." Very lucky indeed considering the amount of destruction the Sith Empire's crusade against the Alliance had done across all its territories.

"The attack was quite helpful as well- it did wonders for my own little operation." Oh, Carach took advantage of his connection with the Sith Empire to draw in more recruits, yes, but the attack itself had ensured a plethora of refugees. So many lost, broken, just wishing to find some measure of purpose and security. That much the Emissaries could offer to their new recruits.

The numbers had swelled since those days and with the Alliance weakened substantially?

There was little that could be done against them for now.

"I will make sure that my people continue to destabilize the Empire's enemies, of course, this arrangement between us will be mutually beneficial." That was how Carach had always worked. Always his own profit, but ensuring that those he worked with also received something in return. In his experience it was the best way to ensure long-term success.

People were far more willing to work with you, if they had their own little benefit.

"Lieutenant Sotari has been most helpful in my mission here, Kaine." The glance back at her- oh, the Sith felt that she was trying to skip by, not noticed. But it... amused him to annoy her a little bit. "If I could continue to lend her services here and there, where our interests converge, I would be most grateful."

It would be easier to have a more solid connection. A sort of bridge between the Empire and the Emissaries.

Communication was important, no?

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective III: Ession Freedom Front
Exterminate

A boom rocked the cellar and sent trails of dust falling down from the ceiling above. Collectively, the rebels inside ducked down, then scampered on with their stuff. Some carried blasters, some carried the wounded. The only ones who were still were those rocking in the corner out of shell-shock. Even the children were set to work, putting ammunition in pouches and handing weapons to the adults as they were arming themselves to fight.

Another blast. It was coming closer. A shelf fell off the wall, idols of rebellion clattering to the floor, tumbling over those who sought refuge among the Ession Freedom Front - The truly desperate.

There was fear, yes. Resolve too. The kind of resolve one would find in a cornered animal. There were tunnels they could hide in; tunnels they could travel for days, weeks. They knew the streets, they knew the people. They could fight this war forever. Could the Empire do the same? Boom and shiver. It did not seem they had that intent.

They had come for the extermination of the people of Ession.

More of their men and women came back on stretchers. New, younger and older, picked up arms and headed out. Some of the younger stared at the weapons too, wondering what the song of destiny sounded like.

"Raven!" a man called, old scars scraping across his face, one brown eye, one cybernetic red, both staring down at the boy. "Keep your mother safe, alright?" "You take her and you run. Don't you look back." the child nodded. "Daddy, don't die." The man smiled back, shouldered his gun and headed out the door. Raven stole a handgun off the table and took her mother's hand. Mother hadn't been the same since the bombing started. Raven knew she had to take care of Mom now too.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Our enemy's weakness is our gain, Carach."

Even now the Empire consorted with all manner of brigands across the galaxy, coercing them with credits, objects, and slaves to serve the Empire's interests. With the fragmentation of the Alliance's authority within the Core Worlds, it had been the signal for every cartel and criminal syndicate to take advantage of the chaos. Any dreams that the Alliance might've had for a reunified Core were succinctly dashed as the Empire and its criminal allies began to pillage every world without reservation.

"The Alliance scurries away like rats, but they will undoubtedly attempt to shore up their lines and try and salvage their tenuous position. We can show no hesitation, Carach, and I have already dispatched my hunters to track them down mercilessly."

Dozens of fleets had been strategically deployed throughout the Alliance's former territories, charged with hunting down and eradicated any traces of resistance. Inquisitors and Valkyries alike had been given positions of command and enough resources to act independently from the Empire's central authority for years if need be. Those that thought the Empire's scrutiny ended once the Alliance had fallen would be in for a rude awakening as they were run down like dogs.

The Emperor's own fervor often got the better of him, and he was prone to rambling on for several minutes for quietly composing himself. A quirk of his personality that was well-known and familiar with someone like Carach, but might've come as a surprise to the lieutenant waiting silently beside them.

A lieutenant that had caught Carach's attention, and as the Emperor's baleful gazed washed over her it wasn't difficult to ascertain why. "Lieutenant Sotari, regale me with your honest evaluation of Lord Carach, from what you have personally witnessed."

[member="Jairus Starvald"] | [member="Dante Sotari"]​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective II/IV - Clear the residential areas AND test subjects for certain genetic markers for later experiments

"The safe zone is surrounded, my Lady. They are still unaware of the situation and they have no escape."

It had been a simple idea really. There were plenty of dead or captured soldiers, so she had merely ordered some of the Legionaries with her to temporarily switch their gear. They still had their Sith IFF tags, just to make sure any other Sith commanders didn't shoot at their own men by mistake while they were in disguise. They had identified almost two hundred beings hiding in what she assumed to be a partially bombed-out community center, and they had intercepted transmissions that the resistance was not going to be able to reach these people. They were trapped behind the ever advancing Sith lines, unaware that their protectors were Sith soldiers and her Adepts.

"Let's begin," she ordered.

It was a swift attack, only made easier by the soldiers suddenly turning and firing stun shots into the shelter. Those that withstood the initial barrage of fire tried to put up a paltry resistance. A few blaster pistols and a vibroknife were a gnat bite in threat, and once those who resisted were made examples of, the rounding up and testing would resume. Those with the desired genetic marker would be herded into what looked to be a gym part of the complex, while the others were herded into the drained pool room.

Fish in a barrel, or so she thought the Corellian expression was.

 

[Kasa Shi]

| Residential Areas, Ession |

/Objective II - IV\

Footfalls clacked against stone slabs, concrete becoming debris, loose and strewn about. Bodies of military personnel and typical citizens alike sharing the commonality of death and defeat. Imperial edict making its power known as it combed through each street and home to present the denizens of Ession the truth of the galaxy. The one truth they would remember for an eternity as their own mistake and downfall.

Kasa analyzed the situation as nothing more than opportunity to feed. Though the road she walked was empty aside from the props of war and strife, until she heard movement coming from a partially scorched home. A small glimpse of movement on the second floor alerted the Sith, causing her to let out a disturbing screech of a noise. Loud enough for any other Imperial body within the vicinity to be alerted to the location.

Making her move, Kasa stormed into the residence with her lightsaber at the ready, a sickly azure fire sparked and hissed with corruption. The blade emitting from the hilt unstable, wild and intense as it captivated her prey long enough to be fully seen and exposed. They chanced upon escaping by using a window to break free into a clearing outside, but as they managed to place their hands upon the window sill, they were yanked back into the room by an invisible entity.

Through the Force, Kasa slammed the panicked survivor into a nearby wall and pinned him there with her lightsaber at his throat.

Kasa chuckled and called the man a few derogatory words in Atrisian before delivering a quick, but fatal swipe to his throat. The wound didn't cauterize instantly, but instead it was jagged and angry, blood spilling through burnt flesh as Kasa unleashed a ghastly wail and proceeded to drain what was left of his life essence.

Weak, unfulfilling. More would be needed.

Without further inspection or care, Kasa left the residence, continuing to scan the surrounding areas.

[member="Vestille Thumahra"]

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Residential Areas, Ession​

Objective II​

Theme​

Like a plague, they marched onward, leaving the reaper's due behind them with every step.

What was once a district full of screams and the overwhelming sounds of blaster fire and other munitions being used to put the masses to the sword, the intensity had considerably lowered since the arrival of the Sith Legion planet-side, albeit there was still plenty to be heard. As the net was dragged along the streets, intending to encircle the last of the surviving population that had been unfortunate enough to be given no reprieve or chance to find a place to hide into one singular spot; the plaza. Whilst the people of Ession had rallied and were from that point on offering at least some resistance to the approaching tidal wave of Sith forces, it was of little use. Not only was there infantry to deal with but war machines that lumbered and rolled across the streets, gunning down anything that the infantry might have missed and turning families homes to blazing ruins. In order to truly exterminate a population, no stone was to be left unturned, no crevice untouched by inferno. The Capital was ablaze and yet, they still weren't done. As was the case for the 105th and the rest of the Sith Legion, the first line of defense put up by the now called militia of Ession had been swatted to the side as if it were nothing more than a fly. It was pathetic and did very little to stop the advancing death squads from carrying out their duty. Across the board, the communications seemed to suggest that every unit at each cardinal direction had breezed through the pathetic excuse of a defensive line and were making significant progress toward the second line.

Vestille and the 105th were in a similar situation. As the tactical map suggested, it would be five minutes, crossing two blocks of housing before they reached a suitable position to set up and prepare to assault the militia's second attempt at trying to stem the tide. Of course, the occasional straggler or runner decided to rush out and flee from one of the opposite blocks, only to find themselves cut down by a wave of blaster and pulse rounds as the men and women of the damned 105th continued their march through hell. Among the helmeted faces of Vestille's men, the fact that there now seemed to be an opposition, even if it was severely underhanded, seemed to put many of the original doubts to rest as the logical processing of 'us or them' came into play and spread across the men through the selected Sergeants that Vestille had chosen himself. It was still early days, his own psychological profile resembling something akin to a scrambled comms frequency left a lot to be desired when it came to the matter of truly trusting someone but, he couldn't deny that the addition of Sith troops to his elite routine of former Sovereign soldiers no doubt had it's uses and applications on the battlefield but perhaps the most vital aspect was that they listened. Vestille was a man of patience when patience was applicable; however not when it came to the battlefield or anything regarding his men; if there was a problem, it was to be isolated and resolved by any means necessary. It was this zeal and die-hard approach to keeping his men ready to accomplish any task at any given time that no doubt garnered respect and scorn in equal measure; though the results couldn't be argued.

As the 105th continued their advance and relayed their progress alongside the other units during the advance towards the second line of defense, it was the sudden wail of a banshee that brought the unit to a halt by the stern arm of their Captain. It was no doubt a Sith or something along those lines yet the reasoning behind it was still unclear. Assuming that the potential Sith could be in danger, Vestille ordered the rest of the 105th to advance to the planned staging point and to begin preparations on assaulting the militia's new Southern front-line after reconnaissance. His sergeants took to work, barking at the heels of fellow Gravewalkers and Sith troopers alike as the Captain and two of his routine took a deviation, following the source of the screech. To some, the noise was unnerving, harrowing even but to the Captain? It was natural. Every night, the same dreams play out in sequence to the symphony of ghosts; their screams haunting his mind and latching onto his psyche like leeches. Whilst he never showed it and the stories from the time long since faded into memory but there were nights where Vestille sat alone in his war room on Eadu, listening to the wisps and the wraiths that danced across the tables and the songs that they sang; ones of tragedy, loss and perhaps even anger, all directed to the single living thing that sat alone on those nights with nothing but the howl of the wind as the accompanying score.

It's all your fault, they say, it's by your hand they burned to the ground.

Regardless, the Captain quickly snapped out of his brief moment of isolated thought and, accompanied by his routine of two bodyguards, set off into the back streets, hoping to find the phantom that sang. Perhaps they would find an ally?

[member="Kasa Shi"]

 

[Dante Sotari]

Dante ground her teeth slightly when Starvald drew attention to her, asking if he could borrow her. Like she was a cup of sugar and he was just short in a recipe. Of course, it got even worse a moment later. When Kaine addressed her, she froze. The armored figure had been still before, but now she was stone.

There was no right answer here. Either she lied to the Emperor of the Empire she served, or she potentially pissed off a Sith Lord that was already very clearly casual about murder.

Feckin' sith tho.

There was a moment of silence. When she spoke, she did it looking straight forward, staying entirely at attention. Her eyes stayed ahead, not looking at either of them.

"I have only interacted with him briefly, My Lord," she said calmly, though her tone was blunt. "On the surface he is manipulative, flippant and cruel. I suspect if you look deeper he is still those things."

The implication was that Dante had zero interest in looking deeper.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Jairus Starvald"]

 

[H3xle]

LOCATION: Ession
MISSION: Eliminate Corvys Gray

Explosions, screams, and the other sounds of war filled what otherwise would have been silence. The streets of the suburb the slave called Nhar'qual strode through were empty, the houses dark with some doors remaining ajar. Nothing was alight on the street, nor any street for several blocks around him. The coming twilight threw shadows all over the place that danced in the glow of blaster fire from the fighters combing the skies, and fires from the capital.



Were the assassin unobservant, or far newer to war than he was, he would have assumed the suburb was deserted, evacuated far faster than the surrounding suburbs for whatever reason.

Instead, Nhar'qual knew that the street he was on was far more populated than it seemed. He assumed he was being watched. The lack of street lights being on as dark came, the houses all being dark, yet vehicles remaining in most driveways. These points, among others, gave him the knowledge that his prey would be far more ready for him than he was supposed to have been.

Not that it mattered.

Nhar'qual turned a corner, and a lone figure stood in the center of the only working street lamp. The man simply stood there, hip cocked out, with one hand in his pocket, and the other one holding a burning cigarette. The man wore a wide brimmed hat, one that was more common in noir fantasies than the streets of the Sith Empire's latest conquest, and a long coat that went with it.

All in all, it made for a very dramatic scene.

Nhar'qual drew closer, his stride never slowing, nor quickening. The sounds of his steps were small, and as he drew closer they were drowned out by the chuckle that emitted from the smoking noir man.

"You should turn back, friend." The man spoke, oozing the panache that whatever character he was emulating was likely known for. "You, and those that came with you. This planet ain't going to..."

Nhar'qual never slowed, he simply lifted his arm, and let his anger flow through his hand to the throat of the smoking man. There was no dramatic last statement, only the soft, wet cracking sound of a broken neck followed by the limp collapse of the dramatic mans body hitting the floor.

The assassin still did not slow, he moved through the single lit area, and angled his stride toward the bar at the end of the street. It looked like the kind of place frequented by locals alone. Where everybody knew everyone else, and was typically full of Cheer.

Nhar'qual grinned as he imagined it being filled with his own version of cheer.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Aboard the Behemoth​

[ micah's theme ]​

At first, the idea of riding on a super star destroyer had seemed really, really astral.

Spoiler alert: There was nothing to do on a star destroyer.

The disappointment was real.

As part of the planned celebration that would follow the burning of Ession, Micah's class had been chosen to honor their Dark Lord with a recital of an ancestral hymn from Panatha. Thankfully, Micah had avoided getting the solo. Oh sure, the soloist got all the praise. It was like they were the only nerf herder singing the song. Nevermind the random heads in the background doing all the vocal work that wasn't twenty seconds of fame. But that soloist was going to be seriously, seriously karked if they choked.

No, thank you.

Besides, there were two or three badawans vying to backstab each other for the part. Well, two and one kid who wasn't smart enough to realize he wasn't in competition with the others. By the time it was said and done, Petro had the part (no surprises there), Micah had won five credits off Jorah for betting on the wrong badawan, and the Tholothian kid was just lucky that a Hutt laxative was the worst thing that Petro could get his hands on.

He'd fingered Gordo, the other soprano vying for the solo, for poisoning the Tholothian, of course. Thus ensuring that only Petro remained to step into the limelight.

To be honest, if his voice cracked and the Dark Lord spaced him in orbit of Ession, it would not be the worst thing to happen. Petro was one of those kids who had bullied his way into thinking he was at the top of the class, seemingly self-assured that he would graduate from the Sith Academy as the apprentice to a Sith Lord. Feth, Petro probably thought that he was going to be apprentice to the Dark Lord.

The reality was, Petro had stepped on so many people that he hadn't even realized just how alienated he was. Oh, there were people who did what he said. Because they were afraid of him.

But Petro didn't have friends, so it was merely a matter of waiting for all the pieces to fall into place. Micah wouldn't even need to be the one to topple the bully. He merely needed to line up the dominos and then give one the gentlest push... and it would all come crashing down.

As their choir practice came to a close, the Sithlings were ushered from out of the hold that had been re-purposed for the rehearsal of the celebration to come and corralled through the ship. The black robes shifting about their small forms as they moved through the corridors.

There wasn't really another class on the schedule. This whole outing was more like an extended field trip than school. But the adults needed something for the kids to do, coped up inside the self-contained nowhere of a star destroyer in space.

The younglings were herded into a room that was divided among a series of square tables. Each table, in turn, was divided into four parts. Four stations, illuminated with a holographic illustration of an urban sprawl.

"Everyone find a spot," their caretaker intoned. The gaunt, ghoulish form of the Pau'an gesturing for the students to move further inside the room.

Shuffling toward a place in one of the corners of the room, the Cathar cub put his back to the wall. Amber, feline eyes prowled across the interior, watching and taking note of each of his classmates in turn.

Petro was at the center, of course. With the self-appointed cool kids vying for one of the three remaining slots at his table.

Micah was joined by Jorah and Blink.

Jorah was a Zabrak. He wasn't the brightest academically, but he was an exceptional athlete. He'd been at the academy for as long as Micah had, making him a well vetted companion. He was a tad brutish, almost certainly on a course toward becoming a Sith Warrior, one of the stock footsoldiers of the Brotherhood. But there was a need for that sort of thing, and Jorah complimented Micah's shortcomings exceptionally well.

Blink was an enigma, which honestly was the main reason why Micah kept him close. Blink was a Polydroxol. He wasn't human. He wasn't even organic. He was metallic. He wasn't the best student and he wasn't the worst. Academically and athletically, he was average. Yet, Micah couldn't but wonder if that was intentional. Blink seemed to always be observing, always watching.

The fourth spot at their table remained vacant, as the Pau'an caretaker announced, "We are going to play a little game."

Before them, the color of the table switched from blue to red as the controls seemed to activate. The topography of the map before Micah was changing, as though he were viewing a speeder flying over the top of a city.

The Pau'an continued, explaining, "On the screens in front of you are an area of urban development. You will each control three droid starfighters. You may use them as you see fit, receiving points for the targets that you kill. The sensor feed will display the life sign readings, which will be used to calculate your score."

"Now, shall we begin?"

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective III: Ession Freedom Front
Exterminate

Raven's breath was steady, but her mother's breath was awfully quick, awfully loud. In front of them, she could only see the dark of the tunnels. In one hand she felt the irregular tug of her mother, in the other, the weight of the blaster. The young girl swallowed down her pride and delved deeper into the dark, pushing away the fear and alarm. She felt something inside her. Something that had always been there. It was tugging her along on a string, and Raven trusted it. It had led her through the darkness before.

A yelp and a tug from behind. Raven turned to see - No, not see, just know - Her mother having stumbled over something. She knelt to help her up, but where Raven expected there to be hard surface, she felt cloth. Her hand trailed to the side and felt something soft, firm, cold. She traced down along the limb and found fingers, cold, still, stiff. Her mother's hands found Raven's face and held her close as Raven herself found her way to where the head of the body should be. Should being the key word. It was missing. All she felt was a crusty flat.

A chill crawled over her shoulders, like skeletal fingers wrapping themselves around her throat. Raven's senses perked to a painful degree, yet it seemed to her like there was no sound, no taste, no scent. She felt as though she was under water. And then the tunnel flooded with red. Raven seized her mother's hand, forced herself to her feet and turned around. The blaster lashed out and she squeezed the trigger as her father had shown her. Once, twice, thrice. It jerked in her hand. One shot went high, sending sparks flying off the wall, the second rocketed down the hall until it hit a turn far, far down, the third hit the red and returned with a fury.

Raven ducked, and only as she crouched did she realise the bolt struck something behind her. Her eyes fell wide open as she heard the body thump on the floor, limp.

"Mom! Mom!" She threw the blaster to the side and tugged on the woman's collar. Something wet soaked her fingers, and only silence reached her ears. "Mom, please."

The tunnel quaked as Raven held her mother close. The red sabre and the black robed figure holding it passed her by. One figure, two, three more followed the first one like ghosts. After they had passed, another set of footsteps stopped behind Raven. She felt eyes looking down upon her. The corpse slumped out of her hands as cold hands wrapped themselves around the childish shoulders. One hand grey, one hand black.

"Come child." "Let me wipe your tears."

The far end of the hallway filled with red and distant echoes of blasters and voices screaming. Raven stared through the darkness at this pale figure that held her. All she could truly see were the still, burning eyes.

"Listen."

 

[AMCO]

Location: The Behemoth
Objective IV: One man's genocide is another man's profit.
Post II

---

Adrian could sense their reluctance, could sense their distrust. He could sense their pain at seeing their world burn. Whatever they felt, it was meaningless. They did not feel the death, not as he did. They thought themselves so high and mighty, but they were all commoners compared to the Sith.

The facade he presented was one of fake cheerfulness covering up sadness and disgust. A smile that simply did not ring true. It was, of course, all a carefully chosen ploy. He needed their trust and what better way to do so than to appear to be suffering with them?

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Vandiir. I trust you have a proposal for us?" The magister's words were polite, but his tone was strained. Strained, yet strong. The man had held up well under pressure, as well as can be expected at least, but the weight his guilt bore down heavily on him. It would be heavier still once he realized just how many would perish at the Sith Empire's hands.

"As you are no doubt all too aware, Imperial forces are busily laying waste to your fair world. Many will perish, too many, but there will always be survivors. Survivors in need of immediate assistance." Looking the magister straight in the eyes, Adrian allowed the statement to hang in the air for a moment, subtly enhancing the older man's guilt through some low-key mentalism.

"If you choose to secure my company's services, I can have prefab shelters on the ground before the invasion even stops. At the same time, my highly qualified team of engineers and architects will begin planning the reconstruction effort. To put it plainly, I can do what any other company can do, but faster and better." Of course, his team had been planning since before the invasion even commenced. Perks of having friends in the right places, and all that. Then there was the fact that his company would be buying cheaply resources "liberated" by Imperial forces, resources that would otherwise be confiscated. Neither of those things was something he would bring up, though they all knew it. No need to make them uncomfortable by forcing them to focus on those nasty little details.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Objective III - Ession Freedom Front
Post – One

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eM8Ss28zjcE

Her initial brief was simple. So simple, in fact, that it was over in a few minutes and hardly worthy of a story.

There was a communications relay dish set up on top of a building. This was a permanent array, a commercial dish designed to relay transmissions and sensors from the planet's surface to ships behind the moon. But the EFF had rigged it.

Until very recently it was able to jam transmissions – until Jantar took care of its guards and turned the thing off.

Now? Well, task completed, she reflected on what had been a rather good day, as she sipped on a beer.

With a glance around the bar, she took another swallow and scanned the late afternoon crowd. She noted that he merged seamlessly, despite the standard Sith all-black garb. She surmised it was because this was a bar noted for its less then genteel clientele. She suspected most people in here had a price on their heads on one planet or another – and the majority wore cloaks, to ensure their faces were cast in enough shadow to make it difficult to give the authorities a good description if ever asked.

That's when she noticed him, slipping in from the street and into the crowded cantina. He glanced about like a wary cat as he manoeuvred his way to the bar. The man seemed young, about her own age, and wore a cloak.

And there was something about the young man had a certain air of mystery about him.
There was clearly something going on. And if there was anything Jantar was attuned to, it was intrigue.

The man sat at the bar, but looked uncomfortable, taking sidelong glances at the beings around him.
The bartender approached and slid a mug of over to him. As he reached for it, the overweight bartender gave an almost imperceptible nod. Tossing a few credits onto the bar, the man looked up and walked over to a corner table. The one he selected was removed from the centre of activity and well-shadowed.

 

[Ria Misrani]

​

​

"Take these here," Alvarex threw the first in a line of captives. "The Empresses will be pleased with their arrival."

He did not care what happened to the people of Ession. Were they to be experiments? Servants? Or simply drained, it was not his worry to have. A man tried to run and for a moment Alvarex entertained the man's desires and then with a simple aim of his gun. Wordlessly he and his men continued to round people up. "No, leave the industrial sectors they'll be of great use to the Empire."

His words were not for the regulars, a modulator scrambled his words only his fellow Blackblades could understand him. As he walked the land and shot those who were too weak to go back to as servants, slaves, experiments or whatever their new roles would be. Alvarex felt a presence, a young boy, the Epicanthix turned to the child who looked no more than seven for a humanoid. He knelt down and placed his hand beneath the child's chin. He tilted his head, and turned to one of his men, "take him to the shuttle. This one has a presence with the Force."

As Alvarex rose to his feet he aimed his guns to the woman who attempted to run. He tilted his head to the line and watched as she obeyed him. "Take them to the other transport."

OBJECTIVE III
COLLECT AND KILL.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Dante Sotari"] [member="Darth Carnifex"].

Jairus did his best to keep the smirk of his face.

It was true that some things simply didn't change and Carnifex seemed one of them. Still an incredible troll who wanted to feth with people, putting the poor Lieutenant into this position couldn't be easy for her. Trying to determine if she should either lie to her boss or potentially piss off a Sith Lord that could be less than merciful in his response. Oh, she was an Imperial citizen, yes.

They weren't hurt by the Sith.

Paid their taxes and all, but there were many things that could go wrong. Once her assessment was complete everything turned eerily silent (around them the chaos continued, but within the circle of three? Quiet)

Then Jairus started laughing.

Took him a few seconds, before he got himself under control again though. "Balls on her, Kaine, she didn't even blink." The smirk was there now before he shook his head just a bit. "You will come to realize, Lieutenant, that cruelty is the least of my sins." Honestly... Jairus wasn't necessarily cruel. Was a storm cruel? The ocean tide and the tsunami that followed?

He didn't take pleasure in causing pain.

It was sometimes simply the most expedient of things to do.

His attention was once more drawn towards the scene around them. His cultists had rounded up most of the useful ones, shackling them, stunning, otherwise packing them up to go. It was efficient in its own way. "To think that just two decades back the One Sith was burning through the Core.... and here we are again. Right back at it, it seems that retirement has no place for us."

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective II/IV - Clear the residential areas AND test subjects for certain genetic markers for later experiments

Well, she had hoped for a slightly larger pool of subjects from the safe zone, but forty percent was not bad either. Those were already being shipped off to transports landing nearby, while the others... well... the pool area had gone silent except for the occasional blaster shot. She had set her forces to scanning for another large collection of lifeforms not transmitting Sith IFFs, while she observed this supposed safe zone. It really had not been a defensible location, especially with how many Sith forces were in the attack. No hardened positions, heavy weapons. Even the soldiers had only been equipped with some basic security armor and blasters.

"How odd," she muttered.

It was almost as if the world's more experienced forces had been pulled away, or their heavier equipment shifted away. Was the planet left as a sacrifice to the Sith? Not even any League of Voss members had been spotted, although any of those survivors were likely regrouping elsewhere.

"My Lady, we've located another safe zone three klicks away. Hospital center."

"Deploy the gunships."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Aboard the Behemoth​

[ micah's theme ]​

At the control of the droid starfighters, the younglings played with human lives.

The death toll on the planet below continued to skyrocket, as each of the Sithlings competed against the next to get more points up on the board.

That's all that the life signs on the planet below were. Points on the board. A school gymnasium being used as a shelter had put the current leader up on the scoreboard, with more than sixty points for that single target.

The younglings also turned their droid starfighters on one another, taking the initiative to try and eliminate some of their competition by attacking their companions.

It was a wonderful piece of carnage, played out a child's game.

Ever the architect, the Cathar kitten lorded over the table where he had positioned himself. Through suggestions to Jorah and Blink, the young Cathar was not merely directing the employment of his own starfighters, but directing an entire campaign.

Micah was selecting the targets, which Blink was providing support to. Jorah, meanwhile, was providing a fighter screen over their efforts. It played on each of their habits. Jorah was competitive. The idea of dog-fighting with his fellow students appealed to his nature. Blink tended to go with the flow, seemingly content to follow Micah's lead.

In this instance, Micah wasn't inclined to question the Polydroxol, as their ends seems to compliment one another.

All the while, the people on the planet below were transformed into something less than sport. They were just an afterthought. Something to be discarded as younglings battled overhead, while starfighters rained down destruction in the skies at the fickle whim and reason of children at play.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Objective III - Ession Freedom Front
Post – Two

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QulBUdp-SAQ

A young man burst inside, running at full speed and knocking over two customers in his hurry. A fresh blaster burn marked his right shoulder. His eyes, wild with fear, quickly scanned the room.

Jantar saw the young man look up and watched as a look of shock spread across his face. The Sith also noted that the bartender wore an expression similar to the young man’s.

As the wild-eyed newcomer opened his mouth to yell something, the sizzling burst of a blaster bolt cut off the sound. He was thrown forward like a rag doll. He landed atop an occupied table, sending food and drinks crashing to the floor.

Five Ession Freedom Front fighters followed the bolt inside.

The leader's voice boomed out. “Nobody move! This establishment is officially deemed to be sympathetic to the Empire – and will be judged accordingly.”

Most of the surprised customers cowed, clearly having no affinity for the Empire or the freedom fighters. The bartender quickly ducked down behind the bar, which Jantar considered a smart move, until the man stood back up with a grenade launcher.

“Go!” screamed the bartender as he fired into the midst of the freedom fighters. The young man bolted from his booth and headed for the door leading to the kitchen.

Jantar dove from her chair, ducking under the table, as the grenade sailed overhead. She quickly reached under her cloak, feeling that familiar metallic object.

The stun grenade exploded with a deafening cry, and three of the freedom fighters, as well as a few unfortunate customers, went down.

The leader charged forward, intent on finding the young man that was making his escape.

The remaining freedom fighter opened fire, hitting the bar as the tender ducked back down behind it, presumably to reload. Bits of charred metal exploded into the air. Picking the wrong moment to resurface, the bartender took a blaster bolt to the chest and went down with a groan before he could fire off the fresh grenade.

The young man saw him fall and stopped in his tracks, a look of horror on his face.

The leader charged him, turning the heavy rifle he carried towards the unmoving target.

From her vantage point under the table, Jantar looked on. “So much for a quiet drink,” she muttered. But logic told her the young man was wanted by the freedom fighters for a reason – and keeping him alive was no doubt good for the cause.

With a hiss-snap, the saber hilt exploded into activity, two red blades emerging from the weapon.

The leader of the freedom fighters continued to move forward, ignoring Jantar and taking aim at his quarry. The young man looked back just then, as if sensing the danger. His eyes widened as he waited for the shot that, at that range, would bring him down for good.

It never came.

Moving with lightning speed, the crouched Jantar swung the staff, catching the leader in the shins with the weapon. Or rather, she caught him where his shins once were. The leading blade cut through both legs and the following blade severed the man’s head as he fell.

The remaining freedom fighter whirled around, drawing a bead on Jantar. Caught out in the open, the Sith knew she had one chance. She threw the saber and it streaked high into the air, missing the freedom fighter completely.

The warrior chuckled and prepared to fire, but only got as far as lifting his gun when the huge cooling fan – previously hanging from the ceiling by the now severed duracables – hit him squarely across the back, driving him to the floor and pinning him there.

Jantar exhaled loudly in relief, then turned to the woman. She was trying to help the fallen bartender, who was clearly beyond the point that aid was of any benefit.

The dying bartender reached up, his fingers grasping the edges of the young man’s dark cloak and pulling him close. He pulled a small datachip from his pocket and pressed it into the young man’s hands. “Must…get…this…to…Empire..contains…”

But whatever it contained would remain a mystery until it was connected to an external device, for those were the bartender’s final words.

Shaking her head, Jantar walked over to the young man. “Look, I'm sorry about your friend, but you've got to get out of here.”

A blaster bolt suddenly slammed into the wall behind the bar, barely missing Jantar’s head and shattering a large mirror.

“OK, I stand corrected. We have to get out of here.”