Dominion The Harrowing | TSE Dominion of Stygeon Prime

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Hard times have gripped Stygeon Prime. A period of blizzards of unprecedented intensity across the planet has left its mark. Cities have been ravaged and dangerous creatures have settled near the various mountain paths that were untraversable for some time, cutting off entire cities and villages from the outside world, and those are only the most pressing of matters.

Local authorities can no longer solve these issues by themselves and turned to the Sith Empire with a plea for help. For the Empire, this means an opportunity to expand its borders and so an agreement was made. Stygeon Prime would be annexed, and in return its people would receive the aid it so desperately needs.

Dusk has set in as you land on the snow-covered planet. The city of Allein is your destination. Lend aid to its citizens, or do your part in making the mountain paths that connect it to the outside world safe to traverse once more.

It’s time to uphold our end of the deal.

---

Objective I: Hunting Season - The various mountain paths have become a more and more dangerous to traverse due to the growing presence of various aggressive creatures. Most notable are the snow rancors, which are bone white in color. Grab your weapon of choice and go collect some hunting trophies. Who can fell the snow bull rancor that is rumored to be among the many dangerous creatures?

Objective II: Imperial Charity - The city of Allein has been hit by repeated and devastating blizzards, which has done quite the number on the city and cut it off from the rest of the planet for some time. Aid in providing the civilians with vital necessities such as food and water, getting the wounded tended to, setting up emergency shelter, and whatever else they need.

Objective III: A Snowy Adventure (BYOO) - Find yourself something to do! Go mountain hiking off the beaten path, have a snowball fight, whatever your heart desires!

 

[Talger Gilham]

Objective: Prosthelytize Sith-Imperialism
Location: Allein

A fur-lined cloak hung from the shoulders of his pristine white gaberwool tunic, the dark brown contrasting with his lighter toned appearance. On his right hip was an electrified truncheon, on his left a holsted blaster pistol. A black synth-leather belt with a silver buckle was cinched about his waist, while flared-hipped breeches covered his legs, and a pair of knee-high synth-leather boots were pulled up tight over his lower legs and feet. Over his left pectoral was a rank insignia bar, which displayed his current Legion ranking of Colonel to all who were familiar with the strict hierarchical system of the Sith Empire's military apparatus.

But he was not truly of the Legion, not in the traditional sense. His true authority lay in with the group of white-cloaked men and women that briskly walked behind him, missionaries from the Sith-Imperial Mission. They had been tasked with bringing the glories and wisdom of the Empire's philosophical and political doctrine, Sith-Imperialism, to Stygeon Prime and educating its native inhabitants on how the Empire could improve their daily lives.

More nefariously, they were to indoctrinate those who would more eagerly heed their words, and identify those who would not. The Saaraishash would take of those who resisted.

Talger Gilham had been assigned to uphold the Mission's objectives on Stygeon Prime, and he was more than eager to prove himself. He and his cohorts strode into the village from their landing zone a short distance away, his lips pulled back in a bright and cheery smile as he waved a gloved hand towards the natives who stopped and stared at the small procession as it passed by. Behind them was a covered hover-sled upon which crates of supplies had been stacked.

They would find the town center, set up a relief station, and begin their day's task.

 

[BobertEZ]

Objective: Hunting Season
Location: Stygeon Prime Mountains
Allies: [member="Asha Mataya"] | [member="Mlow Eman'Outther"] |TSE
Enemies: Anyone who wants to catch these hands
Theme/Soundscape: (Click me)

The Phoenix adjusted the helm of their armor as the storm blasted against it out of necessity to see. Even though it was environmentally sealed, it did not possess the standard features that most armors did at the time. It was archaic to say the least, although nothing about Lorale Farmar save for their ships and army was technologically advanced. From their plate armor shaped to resemble a creature of legend known only to the people of the Noxis System to the massive Wolfblade of the Dlukav that weighed down upon their back like a pillar of metal, nothing spoke of technology to the Phoenix.

Eleven feet and two inches of blackened metal strode through the snow and ice, chasing after the man that had rushed ahead to seek out the objective. The attached cape, clasped to the armor around the neck, fluttered with the gusts like devil wings and produced a barely audible noise to complement it. Fwlap. Fwlap. Fwlap. The cape and its noise were the only way most of the Phoenix's party to keep track of them. That and their eyes.

Even in the raging storm around them, the eyes of the Phoenix blazed with thought. Thought of the planet they stood upon that day. Stygeon Prime. It was a cold planet, obviously. Winds rushing in gallops and ice falling in spears, both sharp enough to cut skin and heavy enough to knock feet off balance. The mountain side was steep, steeper than anything the Sith Lord had climbed in their lifetime. Comprised of rock and jagged edges, marked only by the sturdy posts the planet's residents had placed for travelers, it was a dangerous path to walk, even for Sith.

It had been many moons since the titan that was Lorale Farmar had stepped foot on such a planet aside from Helgard. It felt fantastic, like they were home, like they were momentarily free from the carnage of war. Of course, in the back of their mind, the Phoenix knew that feeling would be eradicated soon upon the discovery and assault of their quarry. To feel like they were able to avoid the violence that was coming, even if for but a moment, was something they were not used to. And it was intoxicating for the few minutes that it ran through their veins.

"Tracks!" Muntolmi-Iuo suddenly called out against the beating wind, appearing from within the storm to point at relatively fresh prints in the snow.

"Good," Lorale responded upon confirming the bestial validity of the tracks. "We near our first targets."

Great beasts of winter were what the Phoenix and their companions hunted. Massive creatures of matted white fur and piercing blue eyes and tusks stained in blood. The Sith cared not for the etymological name of these beings, for they were simply the objective. Too many potential Imperial citizens had fallen to these abominations and the Empire had quite frankly grown tired of it. The coming storm only made matters more dire and critical to remedy, and thus Imperial forces were sent it to fix the situation and finally claim the planet.

Walking alongside the Phoenix, who had traveled to the planet in their personal ship named Nosferatu, were several notable individuals complemented by the standard complement of Imperial Legionnaires who stood as bipedal shards of obsidian against the blank white canvas that was the mountain range. Muntolmi-Iuo, the newest of the Vortex Spawn and lead-tracker of Lorale's army. Jargaza-Yshu, the undying warrior. Yacmoa-Eaha'm, the Dark Jedi. Vigilant Salvation, the guardian of the Spawn. And the Phoenix's newest apprentice, Asha Mataya. It was her that Lorale sought to train. It was her that Lorale hoped would learn the most from this excursion.

"We near the beasts, Asha," the Phoenix muttered to their apprentice through the force. "Are you prepared?"

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

Objective 2: Snow Rancors? Snow Rancors
Location: Stygeon Prime
Allies: Sith Forces | [member="Lorale Farmar"] | [member='Asha Mataya']
Theme? Trøllabundin

When Mlow was woken up this morning, and explained to, in very simple and blunt terms, that he was going to 'go to Stygeon Prime and hunt Snow Rancors for Peace', he actually laughed himself off of his bunk. It was one thing to be told that out of the blue, but suddenly for it to be and actual reality that the Kudon was faced with, and as the face of the man who gave the order refused to give any sense of comedy or relief, Mlow realized his conclusion that he found on his previous assignment was very much correct. Someone in Sith Imperial Command definatly had it out for him, for whatever reason that may be. He was unfamiliar to the Sith, he knew just about as much of them as they knew about him, a faceless Legionary to a faceless Dark Lord. Of course, he knew the basics, they were able to tap into the Force, something he was told he was 'too weak to achieve', and he knew that they once were a species, now a religion, and now a nationality. He understood that his Emperor was one of these eldritch practitioners as well, but for most of his service, he had dealt with the rank-and-file of the Empire. The pencil pushers, the smug officer, the scared kids, bunker-buds, he rarely was directly involved with a Sith for most of his time in service. Now, however, they were becoming more and more of a norm. Stars above, how he missed the days when he would land on a planet and the blackened shine of his armor would dissipate the resistance, now, they were on the warpath. However, peace-work was exactly the reason Mlow had signed up, and if this was a problem for the population, it was a problem for the Empire, thus, it was a problem for Mlow.

He wasn't exactly ready for the realities of the glacial world, however, it's biting chills were mitigated by his armor, of course, but there was still the instinctive reaction to shield your face from the oncoming hailstorm of snow and crystal, if only to save your sight. He had only the faintest idea of the commander for this operation, he was known by many titles, and the actual name that the figure owned was lost to Mlow. The Phoenix, the Wolf, as far as the Legionary was concerned, they may as well just have called him the Obelisk, as the squad of legionaries trailed behind him, the Kudon could only notice how the Sith lord stood above everything. He was a gargantuan frame even to one of a better stature, but Mlow fell below six feet, and thus, the size of the Phoenix was even more exemplified. Normally, Sith made Mlow's stomach turn just in their presence, there was something off about them, something Otherworldly. Mlow didn't completely understand the Force, he didn't have to, but there was something... not right in it when the Sith were standing to him. A wound. A turning. A rolling into the endless deep, waves crashing upon decayed cities, sand-storms across tombs, however, despite the stories and Lore that was built around him, Mlow didn't feel that during the march up the mountain. It was more subdued, a dread rather than an utter dooming. Regardless, the intimidating sight of the Sith did much to alienate, and Mlow found himself shifting banter under-breath between closed coms with the rest of the Legionaries, mainly complaints about the weather and the march, and exchanging random bits of tales from here or there.

The march was nearly therapeutic, Mlow allowed himself to slowly settle into the theme of step, free your boot, and step again. He felt a normalcy. As if the conflicts he was so accustomed to where ages away. He needed a place like this, a nice cabin somewhere in the snow and bramble. A relaxed life, one he could afford, one day, after service, after his debt had been payed. After he found someone, after he stopped traveling, after the galaxy finally stopped burning...

He nearly forgot about the mission, if it wasn't for the weight of the MTB-5 lugging on his back. He was lucky they weren't sent in with nothing but blasters, suppose the Empire does pay good mind to those that fight for it. His Autokrator sat in his hands, well, not /his/ Autokrator, a replacement after the last session of campaigning. It didn't hold his battlescars, it was new, too polished, maybe he would have a chance to Christen it with the winterlands in front of them.

The call of tracks slowly brought Mlow and the rest of the squad to a stop, each of the members checking over their weapons, a smirking Mlow blurting over the Legion-coms.

"Smoke 'em if you've got 'em, guys."

"Funny"

Came a response, bleeding sarcasm, which earned a hearty chuckle from Mlow. His eyes settling into the badlands in front of them, somewhere out there were these beasts of Legend, and all he had was a blaster and a single-shot of a rocket. He hoped that the Sith were as mythical as propaganda had built them to be, his patriotic side sure believed they were, however the starkness of the reality in front of them concerned the Kudon more than he cared to admit.

 

[Asha Mataya]

Objective: Hunting Season
Location: Stygeon Prime mountains
With: [member="Lorale Farmar"] | [member="Mlow Eman'outther"]

---

---

The sound of boots compressing the snow underneath them with every step could be heard as the band of hunters trekked through the snowy mountainside. The bow and quiver on Asha's back clattered against each other as she walked, creating soft thuds as the thin metal of the bow hit the wood of the quiver. Today, she was told, lessons would be learned. They were going to hunt dangerous game, though how dangerous it truly was differed greatly between herself and the one who had decided to take her in as an apprentice. In truth, she still was a little intimidated by the gargantuan known as the Phoenix. How they had taken an eye to someone such as herself, who beyond her vampiric traits had little to offer in her own view, still baffled her. But they were here now, taking a step forward in learning about the Force and what it meant to be Sith.

Gods, was she still clueless about it all.

The winter cold blasted right through her thick winter coat, yet Asha didn't mind it in the slightest. Her vampiric nature had caused her to prefer the cold over warmer temperatures and as such and in that regard, she showed no discomfort. Her focus lied with the people she accompanied. Other warriors gifted with the Force, and behind them Sith-imperial troopers. It had her feeling out of place- it wasn't very long ago when she had nothing to do with the Sith Empire. She didn't even know about her own Force sensitivity. Now, she felt like she was being thrown in at the deep end, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"As ready as I could possibly be," Asha remarked in response to Lorale's question with spoken words. Speaking telepathically was something she still struggled to even comprehend, much like most things accomplished through use of the Force. Her right hand moved towards the bow on her back.

This would be quite the test for her new weapon of choice.

 

[Arana Xaan]

://OBJECTIVE: Objective III - Seeking a Relic
://LOCATION: The Spire
://ALLIES: TSE

​

"The Sith descend upon Stygeon Prime, Acolyte." The Overseer murmured as they walked the length of a corridor of a cruiser en route to the very planet they spoke of. Arana strode beside her master in silence, knowing he would get to the reason they were travelling along with the flotilla. "My research has uncovered a possible relic hidden within an ancient prison on the planet. The relic will be a crystal, shaped via the force into a wand the length of your forearm." They continued to walk for a time, until they arrived at the state room her master had claimed. They paused before the door.

"You require me to retrieve the wand, my master." While it might have been a question in her mind, she phrased it as a statement. Such missions weren't unheard of, and it was the logical conclusion.

"Just so, Acolyte." Her master smiled. "Just so." The Overseer turned to the door and it opened to admit them. Arana followed until her master raised a hand to stop her. "Retrieve it, and bring it to me here."

Knowing she was thus dismissed, Arana turned and walked toward the shuttle bay of the ship. The door to her master's stateroom closed behind her, the susurrus of the door closing just as final as the slamming of a door would have been for a more brutish type. Her master was not fond of dealing with the larger Sith Empire overmuch. The Overseer derided the tendencies of the imperial minded Sith, while at the same time decrying the derision they returned. To those others her master cultivated a brutish demeanor, hoping they would underestimate them. Instead, the Overseer was largely ignored, not deemed important enough for the game of thrones the other Sith Lords played at.

Arana had come to the realization that she would need to kill her master in the near future. She never let the thought linger overlong in her mind, quite familiar with the way her master could see into the minds of others when they were not guarded. Every step she made, whether her own or at her masters behest, was taken in the knowledge that the Overseer would die soon, and at her hand. Still, she wanted to know what the relic hunts were for. Her master was assembling something, and she wanted to know what it was before ending her tutelage.

The Acolyte entered the shuttle bay, and silently approached her shuttle. The techs had it prepared, and it closed up as she boarded. She was alone aboard it, and was ready when the ship dropped out of hyperspace. Her departure was unremarkable amid the movements of the fleet around them, though she was alone on her vector towards the Spire.

 

[FX-7 77]

Objective: Uno
Location: In a dropship above the Stygeon Prime Mountain Region
Allies [member="Lorale Farmar"] [member="Mlow Eman'outther"] [member="Asha Mataya"] TSE

Rancors, those bloody rancors. The way they take away life in an instant was sickening. Limbs detachment was the most common thing, if you managed to survive. To get away without a scratch made you seem godly and would definitely win you free drinks at any of the cantinas littered across this depressing galaxy. TSE forces had moved in on a group of rancors and were tasked with eliminating them to help seal the territory for the Empire and to liberate the civilians of their beastly problem. The only thing was finding them. As they were white it was quite hard to locate such an adversary. Many troops would certainly be injured in the process of this. That's where 77 and the medical team come in. Gone were the days of patching up simple injuries in the infirmary, it was time for a real test. The dropship in which he was in was coming close to the drop point, he turned to address his team.

"We are to go in a work swiftly when the injured come. No hesitation, no mistakes, only success. Triage should be kept to a tee, we need as many people alive as possible. I hope our soldiers kill those bastards."

The dropship descended and landed on the cold surface. Dozens of heavily dressed men poured out and quickly emptied the ship. 77 was picked up and set down on the ground. A weird quirk in the battle plane was for a small surgical team to follow the main fighting force from the back and operate on the wounded during the fighting if need be. 77 was to be one of the surgeons involved in this. He was fitted onto snow treads and a small detachment made it's way to join the main force. Another captain greeted them.

"I see you all are of the surgical attachment. Be careful out there, if you get hurt no one is coming to save you."

If a droid could shake he would, but he needed to be calm in this.

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Location: Allein
Objective: Charity

Darth Auctortias and her legionnaires gave smiles while they passed out relief packages. Mobile clinics, food pantries, and other services were provided to the citizens of Stygeon Prime she looked over to find a Tionese officer, at least from the look of things. [member="Talger Gilham"] to be exact, although Auctortias knew not his name, for the time being at least. She watched as her legionnaires kept the lines organized. It wasn't often that anyone saw the more charitable side of the Sith Empire. She kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary as not everyone welcomed the Sith Empire most especially the Mandalorians. Not after the recent turn of events, Imperial pressed beskar would be handed out to those who pledged themselves to the Empire's cause while still, others prided themselves on being able to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps and turned away help. At least, for now, everything appeared to be running smoothly.

 

[Talger Gilham]

Objective: Prosthelytize Sith-Imperialism / Rub Shoulders with the Sith
Location: Allein

Though technically in charge of the Mission's operations on Stygeon Prime, Colonel Gilham knew that he and his contemporaries ultimately paid service to the Lords of the Sith. So when the presence of Darth Auctortias passed into his knowledge, Gilham stopped everything he was doing and took a few seconds to align his uniform (making sure he was thoroughly presentable), and began his respectful approach towards the Sith Lady.

He fell to one knee on the cobbled ground before Auctortias, casting his gaze respectfully earthbound as he addressed her with the utmost reverence. "Lady Auctortias, it is humbling to see you amongst us today, for certainly we are not worthy of your presence. The Imperial Mission serves at your leisure, my Lady, whatever you wish of us we shall obey."

Gilham had spent many years in the service of other Sith, he understood that they enjoyed public displays of subservience and formality. Especially in front of other contemporaries and their subordinates, and while he had been unable to spot any more Sith in Allein it was still protocol to show a Lady such as Auctortias the proper deference of hierarchy. Especially when potential Imperials may be watching from among the natives.

[member="Valessia Brentioch"]​

 

[BobertEZ]

Objective: Hunting Season (Snow Rancors/Rancors with white fur and big tusks)
Location: Stygeon Prime Mountains
Allies: [member="Asha Mataya"] | [member="Mlow Eman'outther"] | [member="FX-7 77"] |TSE
Enemies: Anyone who wants to catch these hands
Theme/Soundscape: (Click me)

"Remember where you come from, dearest child, and none can defeat you."

The words ran through the Phoenix's ethereal mind as the mountain path trampled by beast-prints quickly gave way to a slope that descended down into a field blanketed by sharp ice. The storm around the company raged still with its impressive might and most vision was obscured in white. Yet, the Phoenix could lightly discern that the field was fortunately less shrouded, although their quarry was still beyond sight. The beasts have been plaguing the world for too long, Lorale was told. They have to be eradicated. Slain. Devoured if necessary. The Phoenix was ready to perform this objective with nary a sliver of deviation.

And then Kascalion came, emerging from his vault of creations: "Save one so that we may breed an army."

Lorale thought on this as they honed in on the the Rancors' massive presence that could still be felt through the veil. It was conflicting presence, one of savagery yet a strange intelligence. An indication that these beasts were more than their cousins. Perhaps Kascalion was right.

The Phoenix was now eager to begin the battle as were their children, two of whom were practically frothing at the mouth to engage the creatures.

"Prepare for blood, Legionnaires," Jargaza-Yshu proclaimed to the numerous men and women that marched with the company as the Phoenix took the first step down the slope.

Quickly did the company descend into the field that now appeared endless and cascading. As the Phoenix had assumed, the storm had let up slightly, allowing a greater view around them. Yet the quarry remained hidden with only their deep prints leaving a guide as to where they had gone and they had gone on for miles and miles. It was fortunate for the company that each member possessed gear that defended them from the frigid temperatures for they were have surely frozen had they not. Yacmoa-Eaha'm was keen to remind everyone present of this fact several times as they walked and walked with no end in sight, his tone becoming increasingly irritated and begrudging.

Snow piled and clumped to their armor like thorn bushes and invaded the divots and linings like vines. Hundreds of prints had been added to the beasts' own, their origin in the mountains no longer visible as it drew further and further behind the company.

"Miles. Walk for miles and keep them with you. They will question you now. Keep them with you."

The words once more. Lorale grunted in response, hefting the Wolfblade into a more comfortable position on their shoulder, trying their best to fulfill the words of encouragement from the Heart. It was true that more than one Legionnaire would inquire as to if the company had been walking in circles. If their quarry were even present anymore. It was fortunate for the Phoenix that they would discover that they had in fact not be walking in circles. The sudden formation of the beasts silhouettes only confirmed the second inquiry.

Stopping the company with a single raised hand, the Phoenix watched as the massive forms of the beasts shambled back and forth on all fours, their growls and roars now audible in the wind.

"What do we do, Master?" Yacmoa-Eaha'm asked in a whisper as the company began prepping their weapons for the first engagement.

"Attack. Attack first and let them join. Orders given after. Watch so as to adapt."

The Phoenix responded, not in words, but in action, charging at the creatures with frightening speed and silence, the Wolfblade raised high and channeling the power of its wielder. The first beast fell within seconds of turning to the rushing sounds of crackling metal on snapping ice and rock, the Wolfblade sent into its furry snout, through its brain, and out the back of its head before coming to a stop. A crack of lightning struck through the sky with the impact of the blade's momentum crashing so suddenly; the wind howled almost mournfully in the moment. Ice-blue eyes filled with the same black blood that poured out of the wounds and mouth of the beast that slumped off of its legs with a single groan. Lorale removed the sword from its face, allowing the minced brain to drip out from the wound, and gripped the handle in both hands.

Three words were then uttered through the Force and against the bursting wind, challenging the beasts that stood in brief confusion and summoning the company all at once: "Come on then."

The beasts roared with righteous indignation, a crackling and booming sound that traveled for as far as the company had marched, threatening to bring the mountain snow down upon them. Galloping on all fours like monolithic primates, the Rancors aimed for the Phoenix whose helm, for all but a second, seemed to have cracked a sickening grin for its wearer milliseconds before the Sith Lord swiftly swung the blade once more.

The Hunt had begun.

 

[Lark]

Location: Stygeon Prime
Objective Two: Be a good guy
Allies Nearby: [member="Talger Gilham"] [member="Valessia Brentioch"]
Enemies Nearby: None

Lark's silent rage was nearly potent enough to melt the frost that blanketed Allein. His personal failure on Gargon haunted him days after the battle concluded, but even a Sith victory did nothing to soothe the wrath festering within his heart. That slimy little slaver Assim Papirs was within his grasp, Lark was ready to do whatever he needed to in order to get Papirs to crack and tell him where his sister was sold. Until the room the interrogation in began taking heavier fire, and the fortress began crumbling, collapsing and trapping those lost in the maze-like halls. Lark had completely ignored the carnage around him, single-minded in his desire to track his little sister down. Another Sith accomplice saved his life, pulling him from the cell before he could finish his work. But as a result, Papirs had made his escape. And Lark was clueless as to where he could have slipped away to.

By now Papirs could be anywhere in the Galaxy, but if he knew a Sith was after him there was no way he'd remain hidden or operate within the Empire. The man was a craven bastard. If slavers were plagues on humanity, he was surely the most rotten of them all. But there was nothing that could save him from Lark's atrocious fury. If he took asylum with the Jedi, Lark would slaughter the entire order to reach him if need be.

The mission to provide aid on Stygeon Prime gave him plentiful time to think on his next move. If Papirs was no longer within the Empire, he was left with few choices. Lark had left the Empire without warning once before, he would not risk doing it again. Perhaps he could convince a few others to assist him, claim that Papirs was formulating a slaver rebellion or providing information to the Jedi. That way Lark could find Papirs under the guise of an official mission. Once captured, Lark could just torture a confession out of him. Or perhaps he would have a stroke of luck, and some contact of his would spot Papirs and inform Lark. Stranger things had happened.

But a modicum of furor would remain until Lark had the slaver within his sights. But of course, one would never know by looking at him how abhorrent his thoughts were. He aided the people of Stygeon Prime wearing the sweetest of smiles. For the first few hours he was a courier for different officials, running food and medical supplies for makeshift shelters and hospitals. The chill of the blizzard was as deadly as the most horrid influenza, and the old and young got the worst of it. Lark cared not whether they lived or died, whether the sickness took them or not they'd all perish eventually. So why save them?

But he could acknowledge the importance of providing humanitarian aid in order to build trust with the Sith's subjects. After delivering crates of warmer clothing to a nearby shelter, Lark was called to help clear a nearby path of snow. Some engineers were planning on installing thermal light-posts that would keep the streets warm, but they couldn't do that until the roads were completely cleared. Shovels and rudimentary vehicles were overwhelmed by the oppressive tempest of snow and ice, but the elements hardly concerned him.

For so long Lark had thought keeping his anger hidden underneath a guise of tranquility wouldn't hinder him. But the rage only made him stronger. Thinking of Papirs, and his missing sister serving some horrible noble, filled his monstrous heart with the passion of a thousand suns. With a push of his arms, Lark forced all of the snow off the road, parting the sea of white and giving the engineers the space they needed. The powerful blast sent the snow into the sky and onto the sidewalks, where local volunteers would have more time to shovel it away.

Lark breathed out lightly, a bit of silvery mist followed his sounds. The difference in power from his previous displays was immediately apparent. Yes, he'd use his hatred more often. But he'd continue to wear that heavenly smile, hiding the darkness within him. And by the time his enemies realized what kind of a monster they were facing, it would already be far too late.

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

Objective 2: Snow Rancors? Snow Rancors
Location: Stygeon Prime
Allies: Sith Forces | Lorale Farmar | Asha Mataya
Theme? Sabaton - 40 : 1

Mlow, admittedly, had no Terrestrial idea on what it was that the Sith, or the Force at large, was capable of doing to any real extent. Of course, he had seen men thrown, lightning blown out of fingertips, and invisible fingers claps around an insubordinate throat, but this was something different. This was something that Mlow had never been properly exposed to. The Phoneix was already a nearly mythical figure, and he was still adjusting to the fact that he was standing next to the living armor as he ruled the very ground that he passed over, and the massive blade that the man hefted around, nearly as if it was nothing, made Mlow look insignificant, he looked down at his Autokrator more than once while admiring the weapon while the Sith Lord seemed mentally distant. In the distance, the figures grew, those they had come to hunt. They were here for this single purpose, they were to slay the beasts that went bump in the night, so the people back home can sleep at night, finally get a good nights rest. He was finally the knight slaying the dragon, he always dreamed of this moment, but... even from here, even from the safety of the tracks, the creatures seemed impossible. Standing endlessly tall, tusks that burrowed out into the air, scrapped and snarled, some of them still red from past gorings, it was stunning. The Legionary was allstruck, he heard of creatures such as this, but to see them in the flesh, real, realized through the machinations of some long forgotten Creator, he wondered what would have caused them to spawn. They moved as if their own biology was working against their very being, as if they were as unreal to themselves as they were to the Legionaries, who all shared some amount of Mlow's reaction.

The Legionary was barely given the second to comprehend the words that were spoken, before suddenly, as if a break of lightning, the Sith Lord was gone, vanished, and in his place stood the heavy boot prints buried into the snow. Following the trail of steps, unable to keep up, Mlow would find his sight settling on one of the hulking beasts, the blade already having claimed it's life. The legend was unraveled in seconds, and Mlow instantly found himself wondering if the Beasts were the true beings of myth in this encounter, with how easily the Sith dispatched the horror, the Legionary hardly had a second to register that the attack had gone through, but one thing brought the man snapping back into this reality, into the moment, into the blood soaked snowgrounds, this newly born killing fields.

The Obelisk spoke, a simple statement, but one that carried every weight it could.

"Come on then."

He was unsure of the origin of the voice, it sounded close and distant at the same time, but something deep inside of the Legionary told him that it was that of the Phoenix, that of the commander they had followed to this field. The Rancor Slayer.

The Legionaries soon fell into firing positions, taking up staggered lines and letting their Autokrators rain out a crimson-hued Hell in the direction of these Cryodemons, the rounds thnking off of their ragged hides, their roars drowning out the traditional drum beat of conflict. Mlow found himself falling to one knee, letting his right leg slam into the snowbank as he threw his Autokrator over his shoulder, the sling grabbing on, as he pulled the MTB and it's rocket from his back, letting a yell fall out behind him.

"Clear back blast! Clear back blast!"

With that, Mlow brought the rocket-launcher above his shoulder, sighting the weapon down, taking a deep take of filtered air. Shuddering, it was so cold on this world, he could feel it through the heat, maybe it was the moment, the fear, but between the flashing of the Sith Lord's weaponry, the galloping beasts, and the general mayhem that was falling in front of him, Mlow could barely make out the Rancors from the background, much less his ally. He blinked, once, twice, flicked the safety off of the weapon.

Pffffff....Dhmhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D29pMyWjThM

The rocket soared out of the launcher, the backblast nearly melting the snow behind the trooper as the round tossed and turned in the air, the weapon was fair when the fates were on your side, but this was far from ever the case with Mlow, the rocket rolled, rocked, twisted and puttered as it moved, jeering far off of its route, at least, the route that Mlow intended, one of the more lanky of the beasts, still moving to engage in the conflict, happened to be at just the wrong place at the right time. The rocket made contact, slamming into the shoulder of the creature on Mlow's right side, sending an entire show of a fireball and smoke consuming the creature. Hovering in it's place for a moment or two.

"Visual?"

There was a moment, two, the throws of the fight raging nearby seeming distant as the squad awaited results. They were given their answer quickly. Coming blitzing out of the smoke, bellowing a yell that shook the ground the Legionaries stood on, came the Snow Rancor, scarred, the flesh and fur on it's left shoulder was charred, ashed already, odd bits fussed and melded, the wound still fresh as the smell of burn hair and primal rage began to descend upon the squadron of troopers.

"Scatter!"

The command was said, but Mlow hardly registered it. They would be dead if they scattered, if they ran the beast would run at least one of them down, and whatever intelligence they seemed to have pointed this hulking beast directly in the direction of Mlow. The Kudon shook his head, dropping the Launcher onto the ground and pulling his Autokrator back to bear as the beast came tumbling closer and closer, Mlow could swear he was nearly three fallen trees away. The rest of his squad went rambling into the snow, seeking cover, rushing away from the hold out. The Kudon slammed down onto the trigger of his Autokrator, holding it at hip's length as unaimed rounds fell upon odd sections of the beasts frame, earning little reaction besides more bestial screeching, and the tusks of the beast now aiming down, slamming into the earth, upturning it like some form of hellish bull.

He began to walk forward, keeping the Autokrator pinned to his hip as he brought his off hand away from it, still quiet, not a word, no screaming, final stand cries, he needed the silence, he needed the concentration. He felt at the back of his armor, the tips of his fingers slipping and slapping against the plate, closer now, the beast was closer, he could make out teeth, fanged, like nails long ago rusted, he could see clawed hands and blue eyes. Detonator, he found the detonator on his back, pulling it from it's holding he brought it up high. Waiting, another moment, another second, the beast gained, closer.

He hit the button that sat at the top of the device, a loud alarm began to play from it, an artificial countdown. Closer now. He could feel the breath. He could taste the past kills of the creature, he could make out the tongue, hairs, it was nearing it's kill. The detonator beeped, louder and louder as the beast neared, it's lower jaw going slack, as if it simply intended to steamroll and tumble the Kudon into it's gaping maw.

Now.

Mlow threw his entire arm into the toss, the device tumbling out of his grasp and into the direction of the charging beast. The detonator meeting the Rancor nearly half-way to it's death rush, virtually stumbling it's way into the writhing mouth of the creature, onto it's tongue, rolling about and falling to the gumline, the electronic scream sounded of the last second on the dial. The entire head of the creature went up in an explosion of smoke mid-rush, the body going limp and sliding with whatever moment was still carrying it forward. The form sliding it's way up to the way to the the Kudon, a mess of gore and a miasma of violence falling to the Legionary's eyes as the smoke finally settled and the beast lay at his feet, collapsed, unmoving. Defeated.

The Kudon found himself laughing at the moment, stepping over the tusks as he moved around the corpse, the rest of the Legionaries finding their way back to the position. Hooting and letting out yells of victory and cheer, musing of "let's go kill another!"

"For the Legion!"

The call came from not only Mlow, but his comrades, reinvigorated with the idea that even mortal man could fall these beasts, each of them starting to fall into firing positions again, Mlow bringing his Autokrator to his next target.

"Let's give command some fire support, boys!"

 

[Arana Xaan]

://OBJECTIVE: Objective III - Seeking a Relic
://LOCATION: The Spire
://ALLIES: TSE

​

Arana guided the shuttle down through the atmosphere of Sytgeon Prime, her course directly for the ancient prison known as The Spire. For the moment, the airspace around the prison was empty save her shuttle, and the ground around the derelict building clear of any movement. Arana did not assume that such would persist, if her Master was searching for this wand, others would likely be not far behind her.

Her thoughts strayed momentarily to thoughts of removing her Master from her life, taking the Overseer's life as the natural next step in her evolution as a Sith. It was cliche, murdering your own Master to take their place, but cliches were built on something. She did not hate her Master, the Overseer was not especially cruel, only morbidly obsessed with pulling something off that would upset the imperialist Sith of the Empire. She did not understand her Masters hatred of them, but it was as pure a thing as anything her Master had. The Overseer benefited from the Empire, so it could have been resentment. Whatever it was, Arana was sure it would make removing her Master only easier.


The shuttle landed, she slipped out, her steps a swift walk from the rear hatch towards the towering Spire. She pulled the hood of her cloak up to place her face in shadow, and reached out with the Force. This far from her Master, she could let go with the control on her feelings, and she relished in the heady response she got from the Force. As if it were an instrument she had played from childhood, her mental fingers plucked at strings and skeins around her, feeling for what she sought. Unsurprisingly, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. If the wand were so easily found, it would no longer be here.

She paused at the doors of the Spire. They were closed, their etched faces seemingly dormant, but her senses buzzed at something within the doors. She took her time to review the doors, then smirked. Sith Sorcery locked them down. She could not readily discern what would happen if she forced the doors open, and for the moment she chose to leave the doors and walk a circuit in either direction. Her eyes searched as her feelings did, if she did not find a hidden opening she would have to resort to forcing the doors, and she did not relish the brutality of her Masters former students, preferring a more cunning approach.

After searching for nearly half a stan in either direction, she found herself before the doors once more. She studied the etchings as she thought of the best way to breach the entrance. This was merely the first obstacle on her search.

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Location: Allein
Objective: Charity & Power

Valessia recalled when Natasi Fortan told her she need not remind the Grand Moff about the importance of goodwill. Good intentions, good - good efforts, generate positive public relations and that is exactly what the Sith Empire sorely needed. Her personal legionnaires on standby while still others worked the lines, civil Imperial service agents were the main contacts here. Allein was just one of the many cities that could use the softer hand of the Empire and not the closed fist that it often struck with first. Darth Auctortias smiled when she could and handed out care packages personally.

She heard the footsteps of the Tionese officer not too far away, and yet as he spoke she could hear the reverence. Valessia gave a polite nod and asked, "Might I have your name?" The Sith could see his rank but wanted a proper name to go with it, and as she looked and surveyed the area, and if she was to say something it was silenced. There was another nearby who had made use of the Force - it would be easy to ignore and go about her business, but something told Valessia to seek this being out. "Our mission today is to ensure that these people only know of our softest touch, the Empire greets many with a closed fist and if we are not careful..." Her voice trailed off, "well, many an Empire have seen their downfall too early by such natures."

"Excuse me a moment."

Lady Auctortias motioned for one of her officers to bring her coat. Thermal light posts and repulsor plates for speeders were being placed down, pre-fabricated buildings lined the empty spots within Allein as the Empire elbowed for more room in which to bring crates of supplies. Coat tightened she went in search of the source of power, should the Tionese officer follow then it would be on him. An assistant rushed a set of blankets to her hand so that at least she could keep up appearances, "thank you." Valessia mentioned before quickly heading out in the direction of the Force.

[member="Talger Gilham"] | [member="Lark"]

 

[Asha Mataya]

Objective: Hunting Season
Location: Stygeon Prime mountains
With: [member="Lorale Farmar"] | [member="Mlow Eman'outther"] | [member="FX-7 77"]

---

---

There they were. The beasts they came to hunt. In the distance Asha was able to spot the rancors through the veil of snow, and with her heightened senses she honed in on them. Taking a deep breath she pulled an arrow out of the quiver on her back, the metallic sheen of the tip catching her eye but not distracting her. The notch at the back of the arrow was pushed into the bow's string, though the latter was not pulled back just yet. Only when the hunt was to begin would she do so.

She received no warning, however.

Her master charged into the fray and in a moment of shock she quickly looked to ready her bow. The arrow was nocked, her target was aqcuired- one of the snow rancors that decided to charge towards Lorale. She pushed away the feeling of the snow that was blown into her face, another deep breath was taken.

Then doubt set in.

Asha felt a mounting pressure, and it felt like it all collected onto the tip of the arrow. She wasn't used to this much wind. What if she couldn't hit a single rancor before it was over? If there was one thing the woman had learned in her short time with the Sith was that there was no place for failure. She had to do this right. And so, she took a deep breath in, held it, and let loose.

It landed in the snow. It wasn't even close. A quiet curse escaped her lips.

Another arrow was pulled out of the quiver and nocked. Another breath in was taken and as she held it, she retook aim. The arrow was shot.

And once again it missed. It wasn't as embarrassing this time, but no less detrimental to Asha's psyche. While uttering more curses under her breath she took another arrow and nocked it. One last try. Were this one to miss, the bow wasn't meant for her. One more time she shut out the world around her, save the bow in her hand and the target she aimed to take out. One more breath in. Asha closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly, a flash of clarity overcame her. Instinctively, her hand moved, and she let go of the string. Only then did she open her eyes to see the arrow fly through the air.

 

[BobertEZ]

Objective: Hunting Season (Snow Rancors/Rancors with white fur and big tusks)
Location: Stygeon Prime Mountains
Allies: Asha Matayahttps://starwarsrp.net/user/15088-asha-mataya/ | Mlow Eman'outther | FX-7 77 |TSE
Enemies: Anyone who wants to catch these hands
Theme/Soundscape: (X)

It was a glorious thing to witness the company engage the beasts with as much purpose as Lorale had. The Legionnaires, shards of obsidian belting crimson doom amongst the white backdrop, utilized the tactics that the Phoenix had come to expect of them, slowly whittling down the herd beast by beast. One in particular, which Lorale had only then just noticed, had managed to take one down entirely with a feat of dexterity that even a Legionnaire would be hard-pressed to accomplish. The gory aftermath splattered through the air in a glorious mixture of sinew and flame, chunks of abomination landing and sticking to the spiked pieces of the living armor.

Another would fall in an instant, a single arrow protruding from its eye socket, crashing through the snow and ice like a tumbling mountain. Asha had gained her first kill, in convincing fashion, impressing the Phoenix thoroughly.

"Good, Asha," they whispered into the woman's mind. "You strike well. Take another."

A quick dodging of white, marble-like tusks brought their attention back to the matters at hand, leaning back enough so as to only be lifted by the wrinkled, hairy face of the Rancor that had sought to gore the Sith Lord. A great path of gouges marked the distance it had traveled to slay the Phoenix, the snow, ice, rock, and dirt dug up deep enough to reveal ores that would prove useful to mine once the planet was under Sith control.

Flipping up and over the great abomination's head, Lorale lifted the Wolfblade high and sunk it down into through the beast's cranium and down its thick throat. The beast grunted once and stumbled some odd feet before falling to its knees, blue eyes rolling up into white that soon became murky with corrupted ichor. Jumping forward to land in front of a group of Legionnaires brought the blade through the neck and face of the beast, spilling its chords and chipped bones onto the ice along with its shredded larynx and chunks of brain and eyeball. The blood pooled like a lake, melting the field as steam rose into the storm that now began to increase in severity. Lightning crackled across the sky with the death as the snowfall began to shift into rain, sharp and pelting against the company. What was once a white backdrop began to fall into a deep grayness. A grave chuckle, rare and frightening, exited the living armor that housed Lorale.

The Legionnaires bowed in respect at the Phoenix's appearance, to which they simple waved the soldiers back into action. However, one amongst them stood out. It was faint, dulled by years of non-use, but it was there. One of them was Sensitive.

"Intrigu-"

Vigilant Salvation was all that prevented its master from being pummeled into ground by a charging Rancor that broke through the lines. Gripping the beast's descending arms up with disgusting ease, the Skeleton, red eyes blazing with barely hidden wrath, unsheathed the blades hidden within the forearms of its thick armor that somehow gleamed brightly in the absence of a sun. The beast roared in agony as the blades pierced its own wrists and severed its dense veins, allowing its black, tar-like blood to run down the blades and stain the snow like oil.

Lorale's helmet smiled sickly as the Phoenix spun around in response to the Skeleton's protection, the Wolfblade gripped tight in their thick gauntlets, and swung widely. The sword, as thick as the raw metal used to forge it upon Noxis yet as sharp as the finest glass shard, passed through the snout of the beast like a knife through bread. Splattering and clattering across the frozen field were the tops of rotting teeth and globs bloody, yellow mucus. The beast reared back as it now howled in damnation, unable to grasp at its wounds. The Phoenix immediately followed up their attack with a rebounding thrust, sending the Wolfblade through the lifted chin of the beast and into the brain inside. Gray matter ran down the blade in trickles before the Phoenix removed the weapon entirely. Only then would the Skeleton release its grip on the beast and move on to another for its own killing, slicing open a Rancor's abdomen so deep, the spine could be seen through the blood and destroyed organs.

It was then that a crucial moment passed, and then another, and the Phoenix sniffed the air as they swung their blade air so as to remove the stains upon it, painting the field even more with tarred blood. Something was wrong. They had finally felt it. Something was absent.

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

Objective 2: Snow Rancors? Snow Rancors
Location: Stygeon Prime
Allies: Sith Forces | Lorale Farmar | Asha Mataya
Theme? Sabaton - 40 : 1

The Sith Lord was nothing short of a God to the men that had followed him into this fray, Mlow watched the armored figure, not seemingly weighed down by the weight of his shell, or the blade which he carried, dance through the air, bringing death to the Rancors with an oddly brutal grace. It was unsettling to say the least, the methods the Obelisk was using, to the Legionaries, were literal feats of impossibility. He treated each of the beasts like one would a ham, slicing through it with a dinner knife in the morning for breakfast, these Spartan, these Draconian beasts were brought down to nothing. He wondered what the Sith could do to an poppet on Mlow's level, it made him shudder to be frank. The Legionaries hardly had time to go about acquiring a target between the hastened slaughter that the Sith seemed to take so much pleasure in.

Blasters would call out, but instead of steady, keeping to a single target, they would cut out repeatedly as the Rancors they had brought their aim upon were made into gutter-rats under the Wolfblade, whatever they held, whatever Apex instincts that they had been born with seemed to be betraying them. They couldn't wrap their minds around the idea that this mortal, this simple humanoid, were breaking their ranks this easily. That the pack was being thinned this simply. They were used to ruling these lands, petty-kings, the lot of them, left to gorge themselves on the unwilling subjects of this world. That was what they had come here to stop, afterall, but was the Autokrator fire really making much of a difference? It was hard to tell. Even the accomanyment armed with a bow and arrow was doing more work than the pelting of blaster fire seemed to, but, the user seemed to be much more than the weapon let on.

"Focus fire on the eyes and joints! Bring them down!"

A shout of command would come from the squad, attempting to bring some organization to the random pot-shots that they attempted to take at the soon to be corpses. However, just as the squad began to reorganize, targets grew thin. And suddenly, closer than he had been, closer than they thought they could stand to the darkness, the Obelisk came. Keeping up with him, with mortal eyes and mortal reaction times, was all but impossible, so when his waltz of death settled the armor in front of Mlow and the rest of the Legionaries, there was a sense of being out of time. The hunk of metal at his side stained with the blood echos of fallen monsters, the armor the Phoenix wore, a horror to his foes, instilling an odd sense of pride in the unit to be serving with them.

There he was, standing not steps away from Mlow, his helmet clinked upwards as he went to meet the gaze of the Sith Lord, he was seemingly inspecting them. It was beautiful in a way, something to tell the grandkids. The snow giving way to rain, falling in heavy clumps against the plasteel of Mlow's armor, the automatic holo-cleaner shuddering over his visor over and over to keep his stare clear. The blackened armor hung just in front of him, the black silhouette against the endless grayness that had morphed behind him. The Sith Lord's eyes, those soulless seeming scars in the plate, seemed to almost linger on Mlow for a second longer than his kin. There was a deep, impossibly heavy, weight inside of Mlow's chest. His mind yelling, jumbled words that he couldn't quite make out, was he afraid? He thought so, he knew so, run, run, run he was telling himself. There was an overbearing sense of dread, consuming, as if the very aura of the Sith was on the verge of swallowing the Legionary. something that lasted for nearly a second or two felt like it stretched into weeks.

He swore he heard the voice, unfiltered, for one moment before the next Rancor came charging in, another victim to the slasher, another foe to fall on the Sith's blade.

It was over just as quickly as Mlow had expected, but the viscera, the gore, much worse than falling one by blaster. There was a moment where he had to fight back a gag, but that was far from the issue now.

As the Rancor fell, so did the noise, so did the calamity. Something wasn't quite right, the squad falling into defensive formations around the Sith, as if preparing from a threat to swarm the living armor from any side. There was no purpose for the stop, something was still out there, Mlow, at the least, knew it.

 

[Lark]

Location: Allein
Objective: Be less mean
Allies Nearby: [member="Valessia Brentioch"] [member="Talger Gilham"]
Enemies Nearby: None

The elements had never bothered Lark, least of all the cold. In fact, he took comfort in the frigid embrace of frost and snow. He was reborn amidst ash and ember, pink scars covered his otherwise pale skin like a tattoo. The bitter chill soothed his troubled mind and body, easing his pain and providing a sense of tranquility. A peaceful stability that a small, almost forgotten part of him wished for. But the cold was an unforgiving mistress, the unrelenting blizzard was a reminder of the danger that came with certain desires. Sharp crystals buffeted his face, and although thermal light posts and makeshift wind-breaks sheltered the denizens of Allein from the worst of the storm, it still was no picnic. Families crowded outside hastily built sanctuaries hoping for a chance to enter, others curled together on sidewalks, pressed together for warmth.

Except for a lone boy, standing all by his lonesome. The poor kid only had a thorny blanket, he was shaking like a frail leaf in the wind. He reminded Lark of himself, alone under that muddy bridge in Myrkr. Stranded underneath a pile of wet blankets, alone and forgotten. Lark approached the child, and knelt down before him. "Your parents aren't here, are they?" Lark asked in an understanding manner.

The boy shook his head, tears quickly froze to his face. He was shivering to much to speak. There were people on Myrkr who helped me when I was at my lowest. Coins, dry clothes, even a bit of food. And still, look at what I've become. Their generosity didn't save anyone, quite the opposite. Their kindness allowed the monster inside of me to fester and grow stronger. Their gifts only doomed countless others. Perhaps my gift to you will do the same.

Lark unwrapped a silky red scarf from around his face, and swathed the young boy in it. "Here," he said gently. "One last thread to keep you alive. Run along to one of the shelters and remember this. Gifts aren't often given, you must learn to fend for yourself. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded. A slight movement, but a sign of understanding. He would not die this night, nor would he anytime soon. As the child scurried to find a bit more warmth, Lark sensed a more powerful presence approach. He turned to face the approaching Lord, a woman wrapped in luxurious blankets and fine velvets. Not anyone Lark recognized, but good first impressions were of tremendous benefit. Beside her was an older officer of rank, who carried himself with the proud aura Lark had come to expect of many officers of the Sith. "My Lady, Colonel," Lark said, bowing slightly. "My name is Lark, I don't believe I've had the pleasure." Snow dappled his scarlet hair, and he spoke with a velvety tongue, speaking with the two as though they had known each other for decades, despite only have just introduced himself. "Hospitals and refuge camps have been set up in the area, and additional supplies are on route. I must say, civic assistance is a nice change of pace from the ceaseless conquest I've become accustomed too."

Not that he had any issue with battle. Quite the opposite, it was a thrill to take part in such endeavors. But it was equally important for Lark to see how other people within the Empire lived. True, he didn't care whether they lived or died. But it taught him so much about the mortal mind, and how it could be toyed with. "If there is anything I can do for the two of you, please allow me to be of assistance."

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Location: Allein
Objective: Inquire
Allies: [member="Lark"] | [member="Talger Gilham"]

Valessia was sure to hand the blankets to any who asked, the snow of Stygeon Prime fell by the wayside, fell along with her coat and danced away with the gentle breeze. She watched the crimson-haired gentleman speak with a young boy. The boy reminded Valessia of her own children, Gunther and Alessandra she kept a thin line of a smile pressed along her features. The young man introduced himself promptly and so in return she would greet him the same, "you may call me Lady Brentioch." She gestured toward the man beside her, "and I'm sure the - Colonel will be more than happy to introduce himself." At least she surmised he was a colonel, otherwise, her husband's spatterings of rank and file had gone to waste all these years later.

"I shall certainly keep it in mind, Lark? Lark, did you say? I will make note of your name, and yes it is - it is a welcomed change."

"Far too often the Empire is ready with a closed fist when all one needs is an open hand." She stood a moment and looked around them, there were more children now who appeared. One act of generosity for another she wondered, "these poor unfortunate souls in need." Valessia took pity on the young and frail, truly. Yet still there came a glimmer to her eyes, "So sad, so true they are quite in a way in dire need, so now here we are." She gestured to her guards a pair of troopers who rushed with boxes.

"Just remember my dear, we are here to help you." Even though at this very moment Valessia searched the orphaned ones for potential. Children would gather but of course, they would, "oh such lovely faces, such beautiful children who are in need."

"Be a dear Colonel, bring about a few means of transport." Valessia's hand lifted the chin of a young girl she let the girl go and looked over at Lark. "Here we have but a wealth of potential, children who will be the future of this Empire. Children who need to know that it is the Sith Empire who cares for them."

"In truth Lark, I've been drawn particularly to you through your show of Force, shall we say." A little show, not much but a little is enough - less is more after all.

 

[Arana Xaan]

://OBJECTIVE: Objective III - Seeking a Relic
://LOCATION: The Spire
://ALLIES: TSE

​

Arana's history with her master spanned the length of her life. She had never known another figure like the Overseer, with regards to the authority and care given to and taken over herself. She would be lying if she said that there was not a piece of her that performed each task given in the hopes of making her Master proud of her, of earning the exceedingly rare accolade. She hated herself for that part, and as with her hatred at her Master, this hatred gave her strength.

She faced the doors to the Spire, locked with the centuries old runes. She reached out with her anger at being waylaid by stone and steel, her hatred at herself for desiring her Master's affection, and her hatred at her Master for...everything. She reached forward with her hand, grasping at the air in what would have been an impotent gesture were it not for the Force.

Her gesture was mimicked and amplified through the Force, and the doors began to squeal in protest. The steel bent as stone cracked beneath the onslaught of her emotions magnified in the Force and directed by her will against the doors. Her fingers closed a small amount more, and then she made a violent pulling gesture, flinging her hands to the sides. The doors could not but follow, and a high pitched screech filled the air for an instant, and died just as quickly.

The way forward was clear now, the gaping maw where the doors to the Spire had stood now stood open, she imagined the hole gaped in amazement of her power.

And hoped it wasn't amazed by her infallible predictability.