Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction The First Bastion Games - DIA/RNR/SO [ Empty hex/Iktotch/Kinyen

Bastien Sal-Soren

Guest


"Roxsie Nurran V'Trechen," he repeated, like he was trying the name on to see if it fit the shape of her. "That doesn't sound like a name that asks for permission."

He didn't mean it as a compliment, not exactly. Just an observation—soft-spoken and honest in a way most conversations at these kinds of functions never were. It was oddly refreshing to say something without wondering how it would echo through a dozen social circles later.

"Of the Diarchy," he added with a tilt of his head, "or Bespin, depending on the spin. I like that." His mouth quirked in the closest thing to a real smile he'd shown all evening. "My affiliations tend to be defined by whoever last sent me a summons. You'd be surprised how many people think that counts as loyalty."

Her final question lingered in the air, and he didn't rush to fill it. There was something oddly welcome about the silence—not like the vacuum of a paused performance, but more like the space in a sparring ring between feints. No one quite committed yet.

"You asked what makes it worth talking," he said at last, "and I think the answer is: this."
He gestured lightly between them. "You're not trying to sell anything. Or posture. Or impress anyone. You're just... here. Mask on, sword at your side, not pretending to be interested in whatever they think is important."

There was something in his voice then—subtle, like a quiet pressure release behind the words. "Talking to you isn't part of the plan. Which, as it turns out, is what makes it worth doing."

He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the gilded barge and the cluster of silken speeches he'd left behind. The difference between the two spaces was startling—and he found, unexpectedly, that he didn't miss them.

"Besides," he added, more lightly, "I figured it was about time someone came over to ask you the questions, for once."


 
⟨THE SPARE SON⟩


Dominic listened in silence as Rocho spoke of governments that failed, of battles fought without banners, of the strange clarity that came when the scaffolding of other people’s beliefs finally gave way. There was something deeply grounding in the way the Centurio delivered his truths—unvarnished but not bitter, like iron shaped by time rather than heat.

“There’s a kind of grief in that realization, isn’t there?” he murmured. “The moment you stop waiting to be told what you are. When you look at what’s left and realize… it’s just you. Not the title, not the uniform. Just the choice to act.”

He drew a slow breath, gaze fixed ahead on the blur of banners and movement below.

“No, I don’t think I’m the pen of my house anymore,” he said softly. “But I’m not sure I’ve become something else yet, either. Some days I feel more like a shadow cast by two suns—neither of them mine.”

His hand drifted instinctively inside his coat. A buzz had gone unnoticed earlier, buried beneath conversation and poise. Now it came back to him—the quiet vibration during his last exchange with Rocho. He withdrew a small comm device and glanced at it, intending only to confirm the sender.

The name glowed across the surface.

Senator Riyaré — Office of the Naboo Delegation.

For a moment, his focus slipped. He read the message once. Then again, slower. His expression didn’t change, but his silence lingered just a second too long. When he looked up, the rhythm of their conversation had drifted, like a thread left untied. He blinked, eyes refocusing on Rocho’s features, but the current had shifted.

He offered a tight smile—half apology, half recovery.

“A message from the Senator,” he explained, slipping the device back out of sight. “A courteous demand, no doubt masquerading as an invitation. Politics, like duels, require timing… and clean exits.”

His tone become more earnest. “Still—it’s easier to navigate those games when you’ve spoken with someone who sees beyond them.”

His voice settled again, quieter now, with something approaching gratitude. “Thank you, Rocho. Whatever you were forged to be, I can say this—you're not a shadow.”


 

SPECTATOR SPORT


"Oh, then I shall root for your sister as well. Just point her out when it comes time."


Persephone had no real loyalty for anyone involved in the Games. Yet if she could throw a little support behind one of the spectators family members, then she didn't see a real harm in doing so. It wasn't as if she was betting, nor did she have any intentions to. The Dashiells were neutral in business - she had just easily crossed the Blackwall to attend a music festival - so as long as she kept an appearance of remaining neutral she suspected no problems would come her way.

Chuckling slightly, Persie regarded Mary. A little over eager.

"Mary, they don't let you 'off leash' often do they? That or you are very excited by rubbing elbows on the regular. No judgement, some thrive on this. Myself? I can tolerate it. I view it more networking and an attempt to have a social life that my parents approve of. Could be worse."


Persie wondered if Mary was new to this. She hadn't seen the girl around before. Not that she was such a social butterfly that she knew everyone but still. It could be the fact she was just slowly working her way into the Naboo uppercrust. Quite different than what she was used to but yet again, it was good to get a change of scenery.



 

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Objective 1: Duel
Tags: Cerys Dyn Cerys Dyn
Equipment: Udyr Biosuit, Sabers.
Music:
Start A Riot.
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Kivah felt the tug pulling her leg out just a foot width too far. It was clever, tricky, and Kivah's mood jumped when Cerys' strikes didn't follow through, instead choosing to play back with her and take an active role in the game. Still, if she thought she was in control, she'd truly learn what it meant to have a Tuk'ata by the tail.

Her breathing came deep and steady as she circled, inhaling through the mouth, exhaling from the nose, eyes narrowed. The biosuit Kivah wore as armor flexed around her muscles and shifted with her movements. A spinning flourish of her right saber left after images dancing through the air and was followed by her left as Kivah stalked the younger Jedi around the ring. Step, flourish, step, flourish.

For the first time during their duel, Kivah opened herself to the Force, drawing its torrent of power and strength within her to wash away the fatigue nibbling at the edges of her arms and legs. Her tail flicked and Kivah was pouncing in on Cerys again, quick as lightning.

This time as she closed in, she sent out a burst of force energy, concentrating it in a Force-Flash of bright light right in front of the Togruta's face to blind or distract her for even an instant as her own lightsabers came out and around, the first to block a counter-attack and follow through on any opening. The second came down on Cerys' upraised blade, only to blink out of existence for a fraction of a moment, just long enough for Kivah's blade to pass to the other side as she toggled the Tràkata switch under her saber's leather wrapped hilt and send the ghostly red blade plunging in towards Cerys.

Because Kivah wasn't above fighting dirty either.
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Location: The duels
Gear: Yasima's Embrace, Knife made by father, standard gear
Tag: Lady Shadow Lady Shadow

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Yasima returned the salute to Lady Shadow Lady Shadow and then moved in. She had grown up as a Hunter and combatant in the wild, trained independently by Tasia until now and her unorthodox stance bore this out. Her stance was somewhere between forms two and four and the girl was obviously light on her feet, barely touching the ground as she ran with her blade drawn. Fighting wounded or scared animals was dangerous, you had to be fluid and keep things unpredictable, the same could be said about opposing saber weilders.

Her embrace blade only anplified her style and she jumped forward, bringing her plasma blade down and crashing it against the haft of the Lady's saber staff before dodging any riposte and using her other hand to bring rapidly round, the nasty, but thankfully dulled for today, metal blade. It seemed to have come from from nowhere putting her into a duel weilding stance to match the double end capability of her foe.

Perhaps if Yasima had known she was facing the heir of the hosting empire she would have been less agressive going in, but that was probably not true.
 
Location: Dueling Arena
Tag: Yasima Zyntra Yasima Zyntra


Her opponent was wild, something that the young heir could appreciate. She was often seen herself as the Fire to her sister's Ice.
As her opponent leapt, Shadow braced allowing the glancing hit on haft of her saberstaff. Quickly turning about at an attempt to skewer her opponent.

Only to find she dodged and was now wielding a knife in her off hand.

All this did was make shadow smile. She had been anxious for a challenge.

Now, channeling her own aggression the young girl attacked, bringing her saber staff in a quick succession of strikes. Hoping to push her adversary and gain the momentum in the battle.
 
Objective: Quit being a weirdo and make this friend
Tag: Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell
Referenced Diarch Rellik Diarch Rellik


"Mary, they don't let you 'off leash' often do they? That or you are very excited by rubbing elbows on the regular. No judgement, some thrive on this. Myself? I can tolerate it. I view it more networking and an attempt to have a social life that my parents approve of. Could be worse."
She couldn't help but laugh at that, she wasn't sure if her new potential friend had really pieced together who she was yet but getting "off leash" was not really an option. The most freedom she had was when she and her sister were allowed to go on missions alone. She was a weapon with a disarming face.

That wasn't to say her father didn't love her, she knew he'd burn down the galaxy to make her happy, but yes. This was a new experience for her to say the least.


"My parents are very umm "structured" so the only opportunity I really have to cut loose at all is at Diarchy high society functions. And even then, I have to be careful of the image I present. The only one who really tells me to go all out is my uncle, but everyone thinks he's a little mad anyways."

She wouldn't name drop anyone yet, if her new friend hadn't picked it up yet she didn't want to spoil it outright. Most people looked at her differently when they figured out who her family was, but she hoped that wouldn't be the case here.

Looking out to the arena, she spotted her sister doing what she loved best. Dueling.


"My sister is up right now, if you look out at the arena, she's the tiny demon with the golden saber staff"
 

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Objective: BYOO. Just a social event.
Direct tags Bastien Sal-Soren

That's a disturbingly close assessment to me and my family. she thought narrowing her eyes at the description of her name. And not exactly what I'd expect to hear in this kind of company either.

"Probably not. I was a blade for hire before this." she said rejecting the idea she wouldn't understand that kind of expectation of loyalty. Of course, she was paid in those cases. But they still expected more than they were paying for too often. Or expected special treatment after the job was done like confirmation they'd never be on the receiving end. Or even just that offering her a job was sufficient.

Her sure was content with letting words hang for a long time. Roxsie tilted her head back watching him as he described her again, trying to figure out where this was going. What his methods or objectives were. Oh, right, socialize probably. Socialize and watch. She was a bit of an outlier afterall so he could just be telling the truth. "You should try them. They're more comfortable than you'd expect. And possibly the most forgotten safety measure." she answered behind the gold mask, tapping it with one finger as she referenced it. The advice came out almost like she was talking to a fellow mercenary and was just suggesting another type of armor weave.

What are you up to. That suspicion remained, though she was genuinely curious about where the conversation could go. Maybe this was why people were constantly theorizing about shadow governments. Everyone talks in such strange ways in politics.


Roxsie hummed, "Well good thing the talking happened anyway, or I may have been more eager to prevent a poison dart from someone watching me." she smirked behind the mask. It was a joke...mostly. Naturally the mask hid the smile, aside from the crease around her eyes and upper cheeks.

"Questions...alright, I'm not going to promise you answers though. Or ones you'll like." she said leaning to one side and listening. Ok. Now we're getting somewhere interesting. Let's see where this goes.


Phrik sword
Rebreather that is styled like a golden lower skill.
 

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Ground Combat Commencement
COMMANDER EVENTS
For leaders who shape victory through strategy and command

  • Live Tactical Wargames – Strategic command in adaptive battlefield simulations
  • Doctrine Clash – Competing leadership philosophies in mirrored conditions
  • Adaptive Command Relay – Dynamic command challenges with real-time shifts
Tags: Imperius Indomitus Imperius Indomitus Kroeger Kroeger Laphisto Laphisto

With the duels now fully underway and what appeared to be all the contestants in place - A section of the colosseum altered itself with large walls coming up to separate it from the other events happening currently. A stage in the center was placed with an announcer coming forward in a Diarchy Armed Forces uniform. - A sleek almost classic imperial design but black with gold trim.

Announcer: "Contestants for the Commander Events please come forwards with your troops."

Diarch Rellik - who had been watching Indra Quin Indra Quin in her first steps of the duel was now summoned for his own participation. Gathering The Storm Detachment from the lower rung of the arena where they stood behind a gate with Diarchy bannermen standing at the sides - they made their way to stand in formation with the standard bearer at Relliks side and the rest of the detachment behind him. - These troopers were not the best of the best the Diarchy had to offer. That honor probably laid with Diarch Reign Diarch Reign 's Myrmidons - The storm detachment was the pride and joy of Relliks apprentice Kallous Kallous . Yet despite their small numbers they were specialist troops and Rellik believed they would be able to adapt to most situations the games had to throw at them.

Announcer: "Commanders step forward and place your vote on which event we will judge today. We have three stands. Place a totem on each stand for the game you wish to partake in. If we come to a tie, a mixed event will take place involving aspects of all three. Choose to your strengths, may the odds be ever in your favor."

Diarch Rellik did not hesitate. He was the host and in the home of his people. Stepping forward he placed a small pin on the pedestal for the event.

Adaptive Command Relay - Dynamic command challenges with real-time shifts

Believing this event would show off the ability of the storm detachment to organize to any situation needed.

 


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Objective: BYOO - Socializing
Wearing: xxx
Tag: @Brianna Sal-Soren | Open

Justice Lesan stood among the masses, but he had never felt more distinctly himself.
His dark robes were less formal than some, though still clean and sharp enough to pass among the diplomatic entourages and elite spectators gathered near the eastern colonnade of the Ravelin Colosseum. The air around him thrummed with excitement, half ceremonial, half electric, as the Parade of Unity reached its crescendo.

He had arrived early, before the drums began, when the twin suns still brushed the horizon in silence. The streets were quiet then. But even in those quiet moments, Bastion felt different. Alive. As if the entire planet had been waiting for something like this.

Justice wasn't here to compete. He wasn't here on Jedi business. He was here for her.
Briana Sal-Soren. His best friend since the early days at the temple. She wasn't just competing, she was leading her house's charge in the planetary duels. And knowing her, she'd been preparing for this moment the moment she agreed to it.

Justice's eyes followed the rising procession as it passed under the Gate of Triumvirs, the banners flaring like sails in a storm. The symbolism wasn't lost on him. He might have once scoffed at the pomp of an Imperial-led celebration, but something about this… felt genuine. Or maybe he just trusted Briana enough to believe in her vision for a little while.

The crowd's roar washed over him as the announcer's voice rolled through the air, every word spoken with the gravity of history. He listened closely, arms folded across his chest, lips pressed in a thoughtful line.

"Here, war is suspended so that strength may be tested, and honor may rise…"

He exhaled, letting the words settle inside him.
This wasn't about politics. Not today. It was about excellence. About pushing limits. About being seen.

When the final chime rang out and the black-and-gold fireworks painted the sky, Justice tilted his head back to watch them burn. A quiet smile touched the corner of his mouth.

He could already hear Briana's voice in his head brimming with confidence, maybe a little smug. Told you it would be epic.

He couldn't wait to see her. Couldn't wait to cheer her on.

Let the Games begin, he thought, with a faint grin.

"Now cut her arm off," he shouted, hoping to his friend's attention.
 

SPECTATOR SPORT


"Yes, I know how that is. You meet people, they latch onto your last name and just assume you represent the company of the family as a whole. I'm a teenager, does it look like I'm running a corporation? Only kids in the New Jedi Order do that...."

She was getting off topic, drifting into unsavory comments about Jedi Padawans running businesses. Instead she took a sip of wine to cover her tracks and keep herself from stating too much. A good number of people knew she had also interned at Arceneau Trade as well, and was slated to have a summer internship once again at the company. With the Dashiells, there was no sitting around, everyone began working at the companies early to learn the processes.

"My parents have gone as far to pick out my friends. I think I have you beat on the 'structured' parent front. Plus I have to have a security droid everywhere I go. Even here, Zee is waiting out in the halls."

A small shake of her head, moving towards the windows to watch the events below once Mary had mentioned her sister was already on the field.

"I see her. Good choice on the staff, glints in the sunlight...cool effect."


 

Bastien Sal-Soren

Guest


“A blade for hire,” he repeated thoughtfully, like he was rolling it around in his mind. “Makes more sense than half the titles I’ve heard tonight. At least it’s honest.”

There was no judgment in the words. No pity either. If anything, there was a flicker of appreciation—of someone not dressed up in metaphor or buried under protocol.

He didn’t comment when she tapped the golden mask, but he smiled. Just a touch. The kind that said: that’s good advice. And he meant it.

“Truth be told,” he said, “I’ve had far too many evenings where the most useful thing I wore was pretense. It’s not as protective as it looks.”

Her smirk—subtle though it was—felt like a small, earned reward. Bastien didn’t miss the edge of her joke. He held up a hand briefly, two fingers raised in mock surrender.

“No darts. Not tonight. If someone’s aiming for you, I’d rather not be mistaken for your co-conspirator.”

She gave him an opening then. Questions. But instead of diving in, he paused. Not out of caution—out of consideration.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “No promises, no performances.” He let the tension drop just slightly from his shoulders.

“When did you know?” he asked. “That you’d never fit their idea of who you should be.”

He didn’t ask it to poke, or pry. Just to see. It was the sort of question no noble would ever pose aloud—because they were too busy pretending they always belonged. And maybe that’s why asking it felt, for once, like freedom.


 
Tag: Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell

Nightmare studied the young woman next to her. This was going far better than she could have expected. However she may be about to spill the beans while commiserating.


“It could be worse. People could find out who your family is and go running for the hills. Having a business name to live up too doesn’t seem quite so bad comparatively”

Her tone was slightly bemused by this, but tinged with a touch of pride. She believed in her Father and Uncle and their mission. Would lay down her life for it if it were so needed.

“Ah that’s nothing! See those hulking guys in the black armor with the gold capes? Whenever I’m out in public at least one them follows me around for “security” they’re called Myrmidons and trust me, you don’t want to get on their bad side”

She looked at the combination that her sister put forth in her duel, the combined lessons from their father coming to her mind.

“She’s not taking this seriously yet. Just testing the water. I’m sure Father will have a lot to say about underestimating her opponent when this is over”

She tore her gaze away from the fight again. Knowing shadow needed to do this on her own. Instead she asked some more questions of her new friend.

“Tell me more though. I think I can piece together who your family is but I don’t want to assume. I’m sure just like me you have very high expectations to live up to?”
 

SPECTATOR SPORT


"You don't think people don't go running Mary? Especially boys. It uh...has definitely separated the men from the boys and trust me Mary....there's nothing but boys out there. So its not all sunshine and roses, even in business."


Another sip of her wine as she delicately balanced on her heels to get a better view of the girl in question. Persephone took self defense. She took fencing lessons. Didn't mean she knew much about fighting. Mary was right though, it did seem her sister had gotten off on the wrong foot at the beginning of the fight. From experience with fencing alone Persephone knew it was going to be difficult to get back to gaining control and forcing the narrative of the fight back in favor.

A small 'hm' was all she had to say.

Head craned to look at the Myrmidons, impressed by their look. The fashionista in her was highly impressed. Someone had an eye for the dramatic when designing the uniforms. She had seen plenty plain boring military uniforms in browns, grays,and blues. These looked regal. Commanding. It sent a message without uttering a word.

"They are impressive looking, I will say that. Could be a friend killer, yes."


“Tell me more though. I think I can piece together who your family is but I don’t want to assume. I’m sure just like me you have very high expectations to live up to?”

Persephone chuckled and just shook her head.

"My last name is Dashiell." Might as well rip the bandage off now. It would decide if Mary would run and then Persephone could spend the rest of her time being a wallflower. "Yes, lots of expectations, naturally. I'll be doing another internship this summer on top of all of my other classes and studies. There are no exceptions, I think you understand?"


 
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She didn’t see the strike coming.

The blade vanished. Just—gone. No energy. No hum. And then—A surge of pain ripped through her side as the saber reappeared mid-motion and struck home. The training setting flared violently across her ribs, white heat exploding behind her eyes.

Cerys cried out as her body went rigid, flung backward with a thud against the hard-packed sand. Her sabers deactivated as her arms hit the ground, nerves spasming from the impact. She lay still for a beat, staring up at the sky in stunned silence.

Then her fingers clenched.

The Togruta shot up, planting one foot beneath her and rising fast, anger pulsing through her chest harder than the pain. Her montrals twitched, her breath sharp as she pointed one gloved hand toward the field with disbelief carved across her face.


"You turned it OFF!" she barked. "She turned her saber OFF! You can't do that—!"


She spun toward the nearest officials, voice rising over the noise of the crowd.

"That's not a legal technique! That’s deception! That’s cheating!"


Still clutching her side, Cerys stepped forward, demanding a ruling even as the sting of the hit continued to ripple through her limbs. Her eyes locked on the officials, then flicked back to her opponent with a searing glare.

This wasn’t just a duel anymore. It was a violation. Cerys fumed, eyes turning towards the Sith as a whole string of words she wouldn't let herself say bounced around her mind.


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| TAG: Kivah Kivah , Diarch Reign Diarch Reign | EQUIPMENT: Deactivated sabers, bruised pride, indignation |

 

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RAVELIN, BASTION
THE DIARCHY OCCUPIED EMPIRE
902 ABY


D E M O N
IRON LEGION
'THOSE ONCE LOYAL'

Imperius Indomitus Imperius Indomitus | Diarch Rellik Diarch Rellik
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GOLDEN TAURUS
Upon the call of the ground commanders, Kroeger would turn to the detail carrying the colors of his Brigade. He flicked the cigarette away before his heels snapped, the Iron Commander standing at attention, his arms flush against his side in a rare show of impeccable drill and ceremony. For all he seemed to neglect it in the remnant state of his command, the well drilled training of the officer thrummed to life with ease.

"Detail. Atten-tion! On my next command, rejoin the Legion and inform them to be ready status for combat operations within three-zero minutes. Fall out!" He said, the first and last words barked out with his partially cybernetic lungs echoing his voice with a fuse of the mechanical and organic. The troopers would snap to attention, their colors flush against their sides, the campaign streamers and regimental banners heralding an Empire long dead fluttered lazily in the dead winds of Ravelin before each abided by the command with a simple vote of acknowledgement before falling out and making way to the rest of the legion.

<"Iron!">

With that over with, his posture returned to a more natural state, a hand reaching into the pocket of his tanker's jacket to produce another cigarette which he sparked to life, approaching the totems of which he was to cast his vote. Three commanders was all that could be mustered here. He smirked at the realization. The Galaxy was quiet in relativity to years passed...he anticipated that many of them shirked the competition out of fear of defeat.

He had no such fear.

And thus, he saw the best means to make his ability known.

Arminius KROEGER casted his vote for
LIVE TACTICAL WARGAMES.
 

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W A R M A S T E R
LORD INDOMITUS
Through war, we bring order.
Through strength, we bring unity.

The Iron March
Order. Strength. Discipline.

Ashin Cardé Varanin | Kroeger Kroeger | Diarch Rellik Diarch Rellik
Laphisto Laphisto


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NAVAL COMBAT - MULTI THEATER RESPONSE DRILL
Ashin Cardé Varanin

Strike Force Aurelian

Ship Class
Name
Status
Orders, Location
Harrower-class Dreadnought (820m)
Valor [Flagship]​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Harrower-class Dreadnought (820m)
Retribution​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Terminus-class Destroyer (520m)
Ascendant Spear​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Terminus-class Destroyer (520m)
Sword of Bastion​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Terminus-class Destroyer (520m)
Rurik's Shield​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Terminus-class Destroyer (520m)
Indomitable​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Virilus-class Heavy Frigate (500m)
Iron Baron​
[ 100 / 100 / 90 ]​
Engaged at Gandle Ott, moving to Shintel.
Xesh-class Fleet Tender, Elex (350m)
X-0613​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Rapax-class Corvette (200m)
Centurion​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Rapax-class Corvette (200m)
Pride of Orpheus​
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
Moving to Shintel.
Speculatores Recon Drones
[ 100 / 100 / 100 ]​
1x in Gandle Ott, Shintel, Pembric, Tanquila Beach, Galtea, Sibiris each

PHASE II

The main fleet arrived at Charis and while its arrival was not heralded by pleasantries and warm welcome, the population yielded what they would based on an imperial warfleet ready to reduce them to rubble if necessary. It was not ideal, quite the opposite and it was decided to take what they could and not make this a permanent outpost. A dangerous gamble, hoping to find something more suitable. The new target was Shintel and then Pembric.

The Iron Baron had less luck above Gandle Ott, local starfighters and corvettes trying to overwhelm it after it appeared and tried to impose Imperial will on the world. Though destroying two corvettes with its superior guns, it received some damage by the starfighters and had to escape into hyperspace, moving on to Shintel itself to do repairs. Later the main fleet would disperse the enemy, destroying what was left of the non-starfighter ships while passing by themselves.

The recon drones moved further on, leaving on in every system they touched that was along a major hyperlane or connecting several hyperlanes.

PHASE I |
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GROUND COMBAT - LIVE TACTICAL WARGAMES
Diarch Rellik Diarch Rellik | Kroeger Kroeger

Eternal Legion Cohort I, Aegis Invicta

Imperius moved towards the selection as well and selected the Live Tactical Wargame. The large figured arrived next to Kroeger, the mercenary warlord that was, not unlike Imperius, adhering to the standards and morals of a different time. He offered a silent nod to the man, in respect, acknowledgement and ultimately, in anticipation of seeing what this individual could on a battlefield.

The token was a miniature in the hand of the titan as he solemnly placed it.

He marched straight back to his Cohort, readying them for the beginning of the wargame. No words were spoken, no glorious speech given, no declaration made. They communicated through mind-impulses and coordinated that way, instantly. It was not a hive-mind, but it was as close to perfect combat communication as it would get.

But the silence did not last. As one they turned, a perfect union of clanking metal and presented arms. Five hundred bio-engineering enhanced soldiers moved as one and then started singing as one as they moved towards their designated area, closely following the Iron Legion. In a call and response fashion they sang, a cadenced march.

"Legio. Aeterna. Victrix!"
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BYOO: Observe and Interact
Direct tags: Dominic Praxon Dominic Praxon


"There is" He agreed "Not just in the way you say. But because the thing that brought me as far as it did wouldn't have the chance to do the same for others."

Rocho considered what the man said next, an interesting description of himself. Rocho was rather curious what more details there were to that. If more politicians were like this maybe they wouldn't get so boring. He then waited patiently as Dominic checked his comm, turning his head to watch as Cerys Dyn Cerys Dyn was struck by Trakata from Kivah Kivah . His eyes flashed in a look of both approval and disappointment. Trakata was a risky move, very risky. Even if you hit, your opponent may get a strike off in the process. It was an admirable way to go out if you were against a foe you couldn't beat. But if you tried it against someone too used to it, or with the proper danger sense, it was a big opening. Kivah, however, had either been lucky, or assessed correctly. But she'd also opened up the fact she uses the move to everyone in the room. Maybe it would keep some on their toes in a way she wanted, but Rocho believed that if you were going to play the war trickster, you better keep them hidden as long as you can.

He looked back to Dominic just as he finished reading. He almost chuckled, yes that seemed an apt description of what a lot of politics involved. he nodded his head to the man in return,
"Thank you for the discussion Dominic. I hope you can find your own way out of those twin suns when the time comes, ideally with something less dramatic than I did."

He didn't think there was need to say much more, the man had somewhere to be afterall. But he could say that it had indeed been a worthwhile discussion. No formal alliance of course but that wasn't the goal. If relations between parties could be improved purely by just being oneself, then all the better. And of course, it was far more interesting than having to discuss whether or not you should tax trade routes, or only destinations, or both.

Outfit
The Beast (inactive, held like a cane)
t-7-vibro-brace (left arm.)
g-11-shield-gauntlet (right arm)

 

Rojuhr Pouihl

Guest

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Mission Entry:
.

“THE SKY DOESN’T FALL”
Battle of Arkanis Reach – Civilian Evacuation Route K-7


I stood before a mix of veteran and young pilots, engineers, gunners, officers. The launch bay trembles with readiness. The enemy is less than fifteen minutes out. I spoke over the ship’s wide-band comm, eyes hard but voice low and honest.

...I’ve never been very good at speeches.

I’m a pilot. I was a wingman. A wrench-turner. A man who followed smarter people into battle and tried not to screw up the plan. If you were hoping for some grand speech about courage and duty... I’m sorry. That’s not me.

But here’s what I do know.

There are transports docked below us filled with terrified civilians. Families. Kids with wide eyes and no clue what those Star Destroyers really mean. There's a senator down there too — some big political name, I’m told. And while that’s important, I don't care if you're royalty or just someone trying to get their grandmother home safe — everyone down there gets out.

We make that happen.

I look around and I don’t see just starfighter pilots or gunners or technicians... I see wings. Every one of you. You’re not a number. You're not just part of a fleet. You’re my squadron. And if there's one thing I learned flying under Admiral Angellus, it's that a squadron doesn't leave each other behind. And it doesn’t break when the sky falls.

It becomes the sky.

So when those Imps come knocking — when they bring their dread, their doctrine, their 'superiority' — I want you to look them in the face and remind them what Naboo stands for.

Remind them what we stand for.

This is a simulation, but for us this is reality, we are the Royal Naboo. We don’t run. We don’t flinch. We fly.

You want a speech? Fine. Here's my speech.

Launch your birds. Hold the line. Save them all.

And if we fall…?

Let it be said we flew so they could rise.


The hangar erupted in shouts and claps, but I just gave a single nod — quiet, grounded — and walked toward the command deck. I am not interested in being a hero. Just in making sure they get it done.]

The stars outside The Celestial City shimmered deceptively calm — a cruel contrast to the impending storm.

As I stood on the command deck, hands clasped behind my back, staring through the reinforced transparisteel canopy. The Naboo supercarrier loomed like a floating fortress, its silhouette blotting out a swath of starlight. Below them hung the Arkanis Civilian Hub, lights blinking across its ring-shaped shell as freighters and shuttles evacuated wave after wave of frightened refugees.

"Multiple mass shadows, Captain,” Lieutenant Jora called from tactical. “Three Star Destroyers. Two Vengeance-class attack cruisers. We’ve also picked up gravity wells—two Interdictors. They're playing for keeps."

I didn’t flinch, this was new to many, but not to me. Sound General Quarters. Scramble all squadrons. Lock in launch vectors for the Archangels and Elysiums. I want them in the black now.

The order rang out like thunder. Flight crews moved like clockwork. Hangar decks lit up in cascading amber strobes. Within moments, the skies blossomed with fighter wings — the Archangels screaming from their tubes like twin-engine rage, flanked by the sleek stealth-hulled Elysiums, followed by Guardian Authority Ltd.’s answer to the Rebellion: X-wings, A-wings, and a tight wedge of Y-wings prepped for saturation runs.

"Old man would've hated the odds," murmured Commander Krell, My XO for this and one of the last to serve with Admiral Angellus aboard this very carrier as Halpern’s XO.

My jaw tightened. No, he would've flown into them head-on and dared the stars to get in his way.

Then I toggled the command uplink. This is Captain Pouihl. All squadrons, this is your moment. Remember: the evacuees behind us don’t get second chances. We hold the line.





INCOMING.

The first volley from the Star Destroyers hit like a sledgehammer. Shields across The Celestial City flared a blinding white. The massive carrier held — for now.

“Gunships Hammerfall and Vigil reporting ready,” said Jora. “Loki cruiser Enclave deploying ECM cloud now.”

Perfect, was my reply. Have the Enclave thread the needle. I want that ECM to punch a gap in their formation. Hammerfall, form up on them. Bring torpedoes to bear on their port-side attack cruiser. Vigil, guard their six — fly it like a wingmate.

“Aye, sir.”

The Loki-class cruiser shimmered out of formation like a ghost, its chronometric cloaks blinking as it danced between sensor shadows. Its interference array spewed out static like a tsunami, corrupting the fire control algorithms of the lead Imperial warshipThe Imperial warships faltered, their targeting systems blinded by the ECM cloud. Hammerfall unleashed a barrage of torpedoes, striking the port-side attack cruiser with devastating precision. Vigil held position, shielding the Enclave from incoming fire. For a moment, the tide seemed to turn in our favor.

As expected, the Star Destroyers adjusted. They began to cluster tighter, shielding their vulnerable flanks. Predictable.

Pouihl’s eyes narrowed. That’s right. Herd together.





THE INTERCEPTORS HIT FIRST.

Archangel squadrons Sword, Sunflare, and Typhon punched through the corrupted targeting grid and descended on the enemy with the fury of gods. S-foils spread wide, engines howling, the heavy interceptors unleashed volleys of proton-jacketed ordnance.

The lead Vengeance cruiser’s shields collapsed. A moment later, Sword Three rammed its burning interceptor straight into the exposed reactor node.

Sword Three is gone.

Pouihl closed his eyes briefly, then opened them hard.

Someone tell his family he didn’t fall. He carried the sky on his back. Again, this is a simulation only, but if we were going to show what we can truly do, this was going to be treated as “real” down to the smallest detail.





EVACUATION STATUS: 56%

“Sir,” Krell said grimly. “They’ve brought in a TIE wing — at least three squadrons, all bombing the outer ring of the civilian station. And... we’ve got incoming tractor signatures. The Interdictors are moving forward. They’re trying to rip transports out of the lanes.”

FRELL no. Trying not to be impressed by this algorithm, I turned to flight ops. Redirect Elysium squadrons Dancer, Onyx, and Valiant. New priority: surgical strikes on those Interdictors. You see an exposed emitter coil, you break it off and feed it to them.

“Copy that. Valiant Lead requesting additional cover.”

Give them Rogue and Nova X-wing flights. Have Banshee A-wings intercept the TIE bombers. Hunt them down.





THE STARS TURN RED.

Fire lit the void. The second Vengeance-class cruiser spun out of control, its midsection shattered. Interdictors sparked and groaned under precision fire. The Elysium’s stealth fuselages flashed in and out of visibility like ghost blades.

But the cost was high. My board repeatedly flashed red — dozens of pilots gone.

Krell’s voice cracked. “Evacuation at 87%. One more push.”

Staring at the chaos, as if it was some community roleplay game that would appear on the holonet, I opened a private comm.

To all wings, this is Pouihl. We’ve lost brothers. Sisters. Wingmates. But you held. The line held. Now give those transports a clear sky. Push. Hard.





THE LAST SACRIFICE.

The Celestial City surged forward, positioning itself between the crumbling Interdictors and the final wave of fleeing transports. With her flanks exposed and shields flickering, she took the brunt of the Star Destroyers' fury.

From within her launch bay, a final sortie launched: battered Y-wings, lone A-wings, and a defiant X-wing squad led by a scarred veteran who simply said over comms, “For Liram. For the kids behind us.”

The final Interdictor fractured.

The transports broke free.





AFTERMATH.

The Imperial fleet, bloodied and stunned by the aggressive Naboo tactics, began to withdraw, their victory denied.

There was more to this than what I am putting in this entry and I slumped into his chair, bruised but burning with purpose.

Krell exhaled. “He would've been proud.”

I just stared at the empty spot above the command display — the space where Liram Angellus' service banner hung when they last served together.

No, I said quietly. He would've been flying lead.


Battlegroup for basis of the games:
Celestial City Supercarrier


2x DP2000 Torpedo Frigate
Loki Class Escort Cruiser

Competing in:

• COMMANDER EVENTS

For leaders who shape victory through strategy and command
  • Live Tactical Wargames – Strategic command in adaptive battlefield simulations

NAVAL OPERATIONS DIVISION



• SQUAD EVENTS

For starfighter squadrons, escort wings, and multi-role space teams
  • Asset Defense Operation – Protect a vulnerable transport or station from simulated enemy assault; scored on survival and damage mitigation
  • Escort Breakout Drill – Defend allied craft through contested space while under timed pursuit
  • Formation Combat Trial – Coordinate strikes and evasive maneuvers across squad formations during wave-based attack drills
  • Target Suppression Run – Perform precision strikes on surface or spaceborne objectives under escort or flak fire.




• COMMANDER EVENTS

For those who command the stars from the bridge
  • Fleet Command Simulation – Capital ship coordination across a dynamic battlefield
  • Multi-Theater Response Drill – Manage simultaneous engagements across star sectors





When we dropped out of hyperspace, I immediately ordered the red alert and the bridges to be locked down. This may be a drill, this may be games, but they are combat games. This was the chance to show that some of the ships of my heyday are still strong and capable.I wanted to prove that my crew and I could still hold our own in the heat of battle. The stakes felt real, even if it was just a simulation. Every decision, every maneuver, would reflect on our readiness and determination to succeed.The crew's focus was unwavering as we navigated through each scenario, proving our mettle. The simulations pushed us to our limits, but we rose to the challenge, demonstrating that experience and teamwork could overcome even the most demanding trials.The simulations were no doubt meant to test not only our technical skills but also our ability to adapt under pressure. Each success reinforced our confidence, while every setback taught us valuable lessons.

When we finally received our “orders”, the battle simulation, it was simple. This was a simulation of “evac and exfil”. We were to respond to a space station sending out a distress call, the distress call was centered around a political delegate that was a threat to the attacking force. A force made up of an Imperial Remnant force. Several Star Destroyers and Attack Cruisers. There is also a “possibility” of not one, but two Interdictors in the area.

Our orders are simple enough:

  1. Defend and evacuate the station
  2. Exfil the Political delegate
  3. Search and Destroy the potential Interdictors in the area.
  4. Engage Starfighters and Star Destroyers

“Celestial City” must survive
Station must survive
Delegate must survive
Can lose no more than two civilian transports

 


Location: The duels
Gear: Yasima's Embrace, Knife made by father, standard gear
Tag: Lady Shadow Lady Shadow

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Yasima flowed in combat, her new saber making things feel lighter and more responsive, and it was a good thing too as Lady Shadow Lady Shadow came at her with intention, flashing her double ended blade back and forth. Yaz yielded ground to avoid being forced back on her opponents terms but she couldn't do that forever. She continued to block with both of her weapons causing flashes from her saber and sparks from her metal blade, she wasn't sure what it was made of but it seemed to be holding.

As one of the striked came in the young girl let its momentum transfer into her block to flip her over sideways and spun in the air before swinging her blades together round towards the other young lady, attempting to outflank her spinning blade just enough to hit her sides. Her intensity was rising and the agression would show on her face as much in her force presence. To those that were paying too much attention, the hue of her blade began to shift back towards neutral blue as her agression disguised her nerves, but would she shoft stop there?
 
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