The Mud Barons - TSE Dominion of Jabiim

[Collector]

Objective - 1 b.

The Spectator

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Nearby - Sure

Lavender nose wrinkled in disgust as each step brought forth another squelch of cold mud. His boots had been quite nice, once, before he arrived on this world, made only of the finest leathers. Zaz doubted they'd ever be clean again, at least not by natural means. Curled horns offered little protection from the rain, the water dripping from this headpiece of nature only being lost in the constant pitter patter that berated the system's surface. It seemed the planet's perpetual gloom did well to mute the lavender man's near constant flair for the ostentatious, the usual patterned overcoat being traded for something a little less elaborate, though still plenty colorful. The matted hair and overall soggy appearance painted an image less of mystery and more of misery. Yet still he walked.

The Collector was a simple being at heart. One with a simple purpose, too. He collected. And as unsavory as Jabbim's climate was, there was still plenty for him to add to the collection. Memories of past events, times long forgotten by the living were far harder to come by than in other worlds, almost as if the mud were weighing them down, keeping hidden histories buried in soggy graves. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. For while there was little Zaz felt he could not handle, some histories proved to be dreadfully boring. Contrary to what some historians might claim, there are plenty things meant to be forgotten, more so perhaps than one would think. That was a fact, however unsettling, that the years took great care in reminding the Collector.

But this wasn't a day for the past, just as it was no day to let the rain scare a fellow into going anywhere. Sunny days were too few and far between to make like an itsy bitsy creature. Today was a day of stories, ones that despite all the sludge, the Collector was keen on adding to his library.

 

[Eye of Solomon]

"As you command, my Lord."

The image of the Shadow Hand flickered away after a moment, leaving the Pureblood General kneeling in the gloom of his tent. Rising to his feet, Gol'zag departed his tent back into the turgid conditions of the Sith camp. By now the attack had intensified, the shelling falling harder and in greater frequency around the perimeter of the city while the prestigious quarters of the interior were left relatively unmolested. Occasionally a shell would stray from its course, something out of the gunner's control thanks to the ever-present downpour and gale-force winds, and spark an explosion or conflagration within the city walls. There was nothing to be done about that, it was up to the will of the Force.

The military adjutant from before reappeared as the General made his rounds up on the parapets, "General, we've received word from Commander Thresh's unit."

"And?"

"Commander Thresh is pleased to report that the entire enemy commando unit has been routed, they're estimating seventy-five percent casualties."

"And the Commander's own?"

"Around sixty-five, General."

Gol'zag grunted, they were acceptable losses if it meant the famed Nimbus Commandos were on the run. "Send my congratulations to the Commander for his performance, and inform my guard to prepare to assault the city. It's about time we sped up the city's fall." The adjutant snapped to attention and held out his right arm with the lower arm raised in a 45 degrees angle, his hand held open with his palm facing forward. "As you command, General! Hail the Empire!"

The General returned the gesture as the adjutant departed, his eyes now fixed on the distant city as prometheum fireworks blossomed across the sky.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective II - Protect the Tram System, Defeat the Ambush

[member="Sith Muse"] [member="Darth Thuyrn"]

Sometimes she hated being right. No sooner had the tram entered into the canyon, to the perfect spot where the escorts and the tram were forced close together, did the ambush happen. Explosives dropped rubble and destroyed track ahead of them, forcing the tram to stop in place as attackers sniped and charged down at the Sith and baron militia. Crimson light erupted from her lightsaber, countering a bolt casually away and back into the face of a sniper.

The barons' militia were... well she had seen better soldiers... much much better soldiers... as children. The Sith Legionaries under Commander Direli were doing their jobs however, and several of the Sith she had brought with her quietly were engaging. The Pau'un Inquisitor was equating himself well, death following him like a cloak. Two men in ragtag armor, smeared in mud to blend into the surroundings, appeared and attempted to stab her with vibroknives.

The first she separated into three different parts, the second was left gibbering on the floor as she passed, Sith magic tearing apart his mind and personality to leave a husk. Taking her place at the front of the train, Taeli raised her free hand, red energy gathering in her palm. With a flash of amber eyes, a sphere of dark side energy was launched out and blasted apart some of the debris into individual atoms. A second sphere of destruction started to form, but for the moment, she would need the Legionaries to keep the enemy off her while she cleared the path forward.

 

[Mythos]

Obj 1- Get the trade princes... alive?

"This is Paw Paw Specter could you repeat that command?" Mythos spoke into his comms, entrenched and concealed in a fighting position roughly a mile from the main combat center.

On cue Imperial command repeated the mission main objectove loud and clear. "We are to apprehand the trade princes unspoiled as direct order from his majesty"

Mythos groaned and sighed while muting his comms. "Leave it to a Zambrano to make my life perpetually more difficult." He said while signaling to his Molok troops to take position and observe the outcropping of an enemy facility.

"This is paw paw specter hard copy." He gave his Anubian sodliers a look of dissapointment, it always had to be complicated. He began to speak now only in perfect Anubian to his two other soldiers inside his foxhole. "No killing, we take the bastards alive and unhurt only to then hurt them anyway" They laughed at that, then together they began watching their sectors.

[member="Dvasian"] assaulted a rather tight paramiter but made short work of the initial fighting force. A cyborg for the looks of it followed him, or at least he thought it was a cyborg due to the magnetic feed his optics gave out. [member="Bryn Celli Ddu"] and her ally would see four streaks of red plasma bolted from the Bantha Class sniper rifle team Mythos had engaged, all impacting the enemy force simoultanously. He would cover their assault from the outskirts to the heart of the fight.

"Down. Two more. Adjust altitude two notches down".

 

[Onrai]

Objective 3

Jabiim. It was a dour and dismal planet, a lot like most others, and Vanessa regretted the necessity in further exploiting the already crumbling planet. There was no rationale in doing such, after all - truthfully, she was surprised that the ore deposits had remained active for so long. The deep mining techniques they were utilizing had to have been quite substantial in order to maintain the consistent production they had now.

Vanessa's own handiwork would be coming into play soon enough - she had been looking for the rumored Lost Throne of Xim located upon this world. If such an item could be discovered, perhaps within the ruins of some decrepit palace, she would be quite intrigued. Such was why she had scanning vessels going around the planet right now, searching for any formations of ruins upon the world's surface that could contain such.

 

[Amaya Cardei]

Jabiim

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Objective II.
Tram.

Sgt. Dmitri took the point in the delta patterned defense with Legionnaires Jansen and Westera on either side of him. The three-man squad was charged with ensuring the Dark Lady's safety whilst she concentrated on the tram. Dmitri readied his weapons, blaster rifle and claw gauntlet as a lull in the fighting had grown. Another wave of attackers was soon to be there and they would be ready. The front end of the tram had taken on a lot of damage and parts of the roof were now exposed to the elements and to their would-be attackers. Surely they would take advantage of it, Dmitri thought and was a little surprised when instead their opponents came down from mid section of their car.

Nonetheless, he and his men would engage them. His grip on the blaster tightened, an expressionless mask with a tube that ran to his backpack were what their opposition saw. It would be the last thing they would see, crimson-colored bolts scored the air with their promises of death. Impacting against the light armor with ease, burning through those that had dared opposed the Legion on this day.

Westera and Jansen were engaged in melee combat, opposition came in from either of the open sides on the tram. Rifle away, claws out - Dmitri aided his Legionnaires as the gauntlet claws, heated with such intensity illuminated the grey and orange patterns of Dmitri's armor. As opposition shifted to brace for Dmitri they did not see or notice the man rushing up behind them. Another of the Shadow Knights landed his vibrosword in the back of one opponent, and as Dmitri stepped back. He bore witness to the bloodfest that had now engulfed the tram.

Meanwhile, at the back Sgt. Strovenko, with Legionnaires Ianessa, Ha'kannu and Alloways and Veteran Sgt. Den'adel were formed together tightly using part of the damaged tram as cover. Strovenko fired from the sights the red bolts disappeared into the heavily armored opponent burn marks were left behind and so he continued to fire. The unmistakeable sound of Imperial blasters was a chorus of violence unto themselves. Yet, there something tugging at Strovenko and without a word, the Sergeant turned and watched as more opposition came in from the tops of the tram. He fired a few shots but realized his blaster would be no match.

"KNIGHTS!" He called forth as Ianessa turned to join her sergeant. Vibroswords and gauntlets out as the battle turned from ranged blaster combat to a fierce melee engagement. On his part, Strovenko knew that there were Sith in the second car, all he had to do was outlive the bastards he was currently fighting. A sickening hum of his blade as the frequency increased, the heated claws on the end of his gauntlet made of phrik coated chrome tore into his opposition. Den'adel, Ha'kannu, and Alloways had joined the fight with Den'adel brandishing his whip sword and dagger instead of the gauntlet and sword.

The sounds of battle would no doubt draw the attention of the Sith if they were not already engaged with the Choal City allied rebels.

[member="Darth Thuyrn"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]

 

[Darth Athora]

Objective III - My Precious!
Location: Onboard Chimaera II


Zahori removed herself from the bridge of her command ship with her Jabiim contact shuffling behind her. They soon found themselves in the hangar bay of Chimaera II where a squad of troopers and a dropship awaited them both. "Listen and listen well. You will follow me, listen to everything I say without question. Do that and you might make it out of this alive." Zahori stated coldly.

"Yes, my lady." replied the Jabiimi.

The two stepped past the troopers and into the dropship. The troopers followed behind them and entered the dropship. "Pilot, take us to Jabiim. The exact coordinates should be in your systems." Zahori ordered. The pilot started up the process to power the dropship's engines on and, in a few moments, the dropship lifted from the hangar floor and departed from the Chimaera II. "Troopers. Here's the plan. We are meeting with a representative of a mercenary company that will support our associates business venture on Jabiim. You are accompanying me should things go sour. If they do, your main objective is to keep me from scuffing my uniform. Is that understood?" Zahori spoke with an authoritative tone. Instead of a verbal reply, the troopers saluted the Lord Admiral.

 

[House Zambrano]

Blood flowed.

The wicked, black armor of the ivory skinned, battle scarred Maenan was splattered with the blood of the fallen drenching him like the waters of a fresh bath. All around him lay the dead and dying as blood dripped from his Zybiisan Hook Swords. Only one remained in his hand while the other was embedded into an enemy at his feet. The blades were hand forged by the most profane, shaped by the greatest crafters and enchanted by the vile arts of the black legions. They bestowed blighted wounds to any cut by its blade a blight so foul, not even the impressive regenerative abilities of even Hutts were useless to its corruptive touch. The lamentations of the dying were a symphony to his ears as he splashed through the puddles of blood. A series of turret positions and defensive stations on the roof lay empty or outright destroyed. He ripped the hook sword out of the fallen and sheathed It. Bael'Gar approached the doors that led deeper into the palace, his gaze briefly passing to the nearby sith troopers dropping in before he thrust his hand forward, a blast of power exploded from it so destructive, it blew the doors clean off the hinges sending them careening down the hall.

Nothing would stop him from reaching the Trade Princes.

The Prophet launched himself down the hall as a squad of soldiers, some knocked off their feet by the immense force of the door, began to open fire. But their blasts would do nothing to him, they wouldn't stop him. Faces were pulled into startled looks as their shots were stopped by armor or simply sailed through his scarred flesh. They too fell to his bloody rage with the exception of one man, one remaining soldier. "The Trade Princes. Where do they hide."

[member="Sith Muse"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The hounds sniffed, the hyal'hask lurked. The Princess approached a princely abode. No, a hovel, squeezed between two taller structures.

"Are you sure?"

She looked down at Alk as he indicated. Alk in turn looked up at her with his yellow eyes. Ilke took this moment to indicate as well, and that was all Darth Vornskr II needed to see. She waved the lieutenant over and gestured for him to bring the squad in formation. A few went around to cut off any escape, one started climbing one of the taller structures. The others drew their blasters and

With her left hand, the strong hand, she drew Zaudraka from its sheath.

"They are in there." "Somewhere."

She pointed the blade at the hovel and closed her eyes. Fire licked along the hilt, then shot down along the spine of the blade. The bead of red flame grew as it met the door, enveloping it, heating it. The colours of the flame changed, to blue, to white. And the metal began to scream.

She pushed forward with the sword and the white-hot door tore itself apart and flew in. A brief scream sounded before the body of its origin was crushed. Smoke filled the space, and both vornskrs immediately began pulling at a rug.

A trap door.

 

[Amaya Cardei]

Jabiim

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Objective I.
Choal City.

They marched in rows three by three, thirty men strong as the thunderous downpour from the skies rained upon them. Mud shot upward marking their scorched armor but the Raptors would not be stopped. Inspired by the mere sight of the Prophet, Captain Triscea roared through her blaster fire making their landings on the scattered enemy forces. A crackle from communications, more Raptors would be landing just as soon as the guns were down - the Imperial Claws were also enroute, which meant that a Sith-Imperial Victory was more than assured. "173RD!" Acques could be heard shouting their number with glee, her blaster rifle in one hand and her bladed gauntlet at the ready.

Death was promised to the Choal City Forces, they would be lucky. For they would die in battle, these Trade Princes? Would meet with humiliation by the Sith Empire's hands. Bladed claw-like gauntlets, Raptor Company became a machine of war - kill, fight, die - sending their foes to the Netherworld. Whispers of the Reaper shot through the dull gray sky. Lighting it up with shades of bright crimson, red, and amber the cries of those who so valiantly held their ground against the Legionnaires. Claws made quick work of light armor while the machine continued to chew its way onto the steps of the palace.

Sgt. Grant's aim was quick, fast and near perfect as the men on the guns came tumbling off the walls. Legionnaires followed suit taking control of the steps while the Prophet brought havoc to the palace interior. Kill. Fight. Die. A Legionnaire's burder, a soldier's life something that the forces of Chaol City were becoming well aware of as the Legionnaires of the 173rd worked in tandem. A tightly packed formation of gray and orange armor clad men and women - each one indistinguishable from the other forming a wall on the top of the steps.

"C'MON BLOODY SONS OF HUTTS!" Sgt. Grant shouted over the communications, and the 173rd's morale continue to rise. Men on the AA guns turned to focus on Raptors, but their guns could not reach - the Raptors would force them down off their mounts and in that time, Raven Squadron would prepare for take off. Taking their bombers to the air to punish what was left of the resistance here.

[member="House Zambrano"]

 

[Eye of Solomon]

One hand gripped the durasteel rim of the Carnivore's dorsal hatch as the repulsortank sped across the mud flats surrounding the capital city, while the other grasped the hilt of his lightsaber which remained unlit for now. Constant bombardment had broken down the western city gates, allowing the Empire to start transporting entire battalions into the city to hasten its fall. Though many would question the sanity of General Gol'zag when he commanded that he accompany the next convoy of soldiers rushing into Choal, there was no one who could dissuade him from doing so once he had made up his mind about it.

So that is where we find our implacable General, speeding towards certain danger with his whole upper body exposed as he stood half-in and half-out of the Carnivore heavy repulsortank that bore him to the city. Occasionally, the tank would come to a halt and reposition its gun turret to fire on scouted Commandos and other Jabiimi defenders that had been detected along the rubble and wastes, but otherwise there was little to keep them from moving along.

It was when the tank neared the city walls that the fighting truly broke out.

Sharpshooters on the parapets, eager to take advantage as what they saw as a fool sticking his head out of the tank, brought their rifles around to bear and zeroed in on the General. But Gol'zag was no fool, he was a Lord of the Sith. The Dark Side flowed through every fiber of his being and through it he sensed the danger long before it had a chance to occur. A beam of scarlet energy ignited from his lightsaber, slashing through the air a moment before a blaster bolt nearly took his head off, the deflected bolt smashing harmlessly into a pool of mud nearby. Two, three, four more shots swung his way, and the General deftly redirected them all away.

Exposed, the sharpshooters began to depart for better cover, but their positions had already been targeted by the convoy's heavy equipment. The ramparts exploded in a shower of fire and molten stone, sending bits and pieces of the snipers up into the air and back down into the mud below.

With lightsaber still lit, the General gestured aggressively towards the broken city gates.

"Advance!"

 

[Anima]

Objective I
Kicking and Screaming.

Star Destroyers darkened the skies over Jabiim, their shields seemingly impervious to the trivial anti-air firepower from below. Stormtroopers fell upon the surface and railed against the defenses of Choal City. The stench of burning atmosphere was thick and heavy around them. From on high, strategically plotted lances of energy rained down and obliterated smaller turrets, localized deflector shields, and ripped the lids off of bunkers where the local militia had holed themselves up.

Some troopers opened fire into the droves of terrified locals, anyone who had dared to take up arms against the Sith. Those still in their homes were spared, or at least, they were left be for the moment.

The creature that flanked the group, isolated from the Sith and their devout, was more a stain than a man. Black all but his hands, and two orange, burning orbs for eyes. He loomed over the battlefield and moved like a wraith, carefully watching every man, woman, and child that screamed and rushed past in terror.

They were not his concern, but if any among them were Princes...

Ah, yes.

The Princes had a fate all their own to look forward to...

[member="Sith Muse"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Hack, hack, hack!

Zaudraka's enchanted steel carved through the trap door. With a heavy kick, she pushed the trap door down into the room below. One of the hyal'hask dropped a grenade, the squadron looked away and held their ears.

BANG

The flash-bang resonated in the ground below them, and the Hyal'hask quickly jumped down into the hole. Joycelyn came with them, but Alk and Ilke remained above, pacing the space. They knew better than to make themselves burdens to their master.

The path ahead of them filled with smoke and silence.

The Force whispered to Joycelyn, a word of danger. She sent a pair of hyal'hask forward to scout out the area, and she listened. First nothing, and then came the sound of blood hitting the ground, accompanied by a choked yell. Her squad opened fire after the sound, lighting the fog red, but they heard nothing hit. Darth Vornskr II frowned and closed her eyes to focus.

"Two more, back to back, eyes open."

She knelt and placed her forehead against the hilt of Zaudraka while two more of her hyal'hask went in. She listened, sensed, opened herself to shivers of the Force. Silence. Her eyes opened quickly as she felt a shift in the air, and the smoke. A choked yelp, one o'clock. Lunging forward, she raised Zaudraka and brought it down in a furious chop. It cut only air, but she now felt a chill on her spine. Turning, she brought the pommel about and made a quick jab. This time it hit. An oscillation turned into a black-clad figure, which then tumbled back with a new hole in his forehead.

She stomped her leg down on his abdomen and brought her blade around in a new, wide sweep. Again, nothing. She could see a second oscillation on her right, and she could feel it aiming for her armpit. She tried to bring her blade around, but knew she was too late. She couldn't move as she wanted in this confined space. However, the oscillation stopped as one of her hyal'hask, one presumed dead, launched itself up from the ground and tackled the shape. He flailed with delirious rage, beating and tearing at the invisible shape until it became visible.

"Primyn!" Forward, as one.

They charged through the fog. She felt a blade slice the side of her chest-armour, and she returned the favour with an elbow. One of her squad jumped in with a vibroblade and finished the job as she spearheaded through.

 

[Amaya Cardei]

Jabiim

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Objective I.
Choal City.

Raven Squadron led the way, with Viel and Black Squadrons not too far behind. The Rift Mages were finally free to let loose on the city below them, they were finally blind, but flew like old antiquated birds. Using their visuals, and enabling the analog modes of their birds. How fortunate that they were trained to do so, trained to fly with little to no electronics. Modified armor kept them going, if only just enough to add to the chaos beneath their wings. Below them the fierce rage of the Imperial military could be felt the gaze of destruction from the turbolasers around them punching destruction into Jabiim. The sky seemed to darken and not with clouds of rain, but Star Destroyers modified for this purpose alone, to bring a violent to the Trade Princes who so much as dared to voice themselves in opposition to the Empire.

Like a deadly murder of crows, the unkindess of the Ravens would not go unnoticed. Sleek black frames of their bombers were spotted overhead just a barely-there silhouette from the haze of crimson that worked to bring ruin to Jabiim. On the ground as more and more legionnaires rushed to the ground the Trade Princes would be given up by the people. The people knew better - for Jabiim would survive such an onslaught, not when the wrath of the Sith Empire had been brought to bear.

[member="Anima"]

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective II - Protect the Tram System, Defeat the Ambush

[member="Sith Muse"] [member="Darth Thuyrn"]

As yet another sphere of destructive dark side energy left her hand, obliterating another potion of rubble into atoms, she felt a slight stirring. Her mind drifted, seeking, ignoring the struggle of the Legionaries around her and fighting along the tram as she sought out... movement in the currents. A stray blaster bolt got through to her, deflected without even conscious thought away and into the canyon wall. There were beings cloaking themselves, both in the Force and from sight... moving towards the tram. Had the rebels sided with some Jedi or maybe some Force Sensitive assassins or mercenaries? It was possible.

Inhaling, and calling upon her command of the dark side, she began weaving her fingers through an intricate pattern. Small sparks of harsh blue light lingered as her hand moved, leaving a blazing circle of runes in the air before her of Sith magic.

"Sergeant, visor blackouts now," she ordered and then she unleashed her spell. There was a harsh flash of blue light, crackling with the power of the dark side. Shouts of pain and surprise went up from the cloaked enemy as they appeared, their protections through the Force stripped from them as the Lady of Secrets worked her will.

"Kill the revealed enemies now," she yelled, red light lancing from her hand to nearest and draining them of life and thought. She would need to turn her attention back to the rubble in a moment, there wasn't much left before the tram could move again and out of these canyons.

 

[Collector]

Objective: 1b.

The Mad Party

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Nearby: [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

"Remind me, again, what exactly you do here." The Collector's words were almost difficult to hear over the clattering and scuffle of weapons off in the distance. He paused over a drink, a mostly filled wine glass resting between his delicate fingers. His robes and hair were still damp from the rain, though far less so than one would expect. There was a pale shimmer to his skin, like someone had taken a pinch what made the stars themselves shine to his skin.

How exactly he'd managed to get this far, past security and enemies alike, was a question that'd fine no answer. Fortunately enough, his current guest wasn't about to inquire, judging from the glazed over look in their eye and the teacup still in their hand. They answered Zaz's questions without passion, distracted. The fact brought a smirk to Zaz's face. It was a shame, sure, sacrificing personality for answers, but such was to be expected in bending one being's will to serve anothers.

"Why am I here, again? Can I go now?" The guest's confusion could not be mistaken, even with the daze upon them. It was enough to snap the Collector out of his thoughts.

"No no, sit, stay, be merry" His smirk never faltered, only widened as he filled the guest's drink once more. "Besides, I feel keeping you around will prove to be entertaining."

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Zazrael Lux"]

The smoke ended, and ahead there was a dim light. She let her blade rest on her shoulder and looked quickly at the squadmates at her sides. She had lost more than she would like to, but if she could single-handedly capture one of the trade-princes, it would be worth it. Ah, this was what she missed from her days in the lower ranks of the military: The adventure. Her peers would have her safe behind the lines, but she wanted to be where the action was.

"Careful, hold your fire until we can confirm hostility."

Joycelyn took point this time, the force wrapped around her protectively. She peered ahead with narrowed eyes as she expected to find the lair of a prince in hiding, but what she found was... different.

Turning a corner and brushing aside a fabric cover, she entered upon a large room with lots of people drinking stiffly from their cups and glasses. Joycelyn tensed, but forced herself to relax as she took in the scene, and only then did her eyes fall upon the purple one.

"By order of the Emperor, I ask the Trade Princes and their forces to surrender."

Her hyal'hask spread out behind her, protecting the opening behind her and assuming positions to flank anyone who assaulted her. Even while they did so, they too looked confused at the spectacle ahead. They couldn't quite figure out what was wrong. Everyone just acted so stiff, as if they were droids in fleshy disguises; a disturbing thought.

"I demand to see the..." Her words trailed off as she saw someone drink from a glass, but not really. it was more like emptying it on their lip. "What is going on here?"

 

[Collector]

Objective - 1 b.

The Mad Party

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Nearby - [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

The smirk altered once more, shifting to something meant to be more charming than malevolent, as those red eyes shifted from party guest to newcomer. Those eyes seemed to take in everything at once and then nothing at all, shifting from the woman to her flanking abominations and back again.

"Are you asking or demanding dear girl? Make no mistake, there is a grave difference in the two." For just a moment there, one easily missed, the Collector's voice was void of any warmth. A cold, calculated danger replacing the otherwise rich vocals. Not even a second later, it was back to its usual self.

His arms opened wide, wine glass still in hand. "Welcome, guests, by all means join us. I'm afraid we've only one seat left but there's plenty of tea to go around." As he spoke, he gestured with his free hand, the chair at the end of the table shifting as if to welcome a new occupant. As the chair shifted, so did a tea cup, already filled with a brown liquid.

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Power flowed through him.

Dark energy, ravenous and free.

Backgrounds became muted, the wide streets and the non-euclidean structures that flanked them fading away into a blur of dark grays and whites. The soldiers who stood against the Empire were easily identifiable against the hazy murk, the energy discharges from their rifles even more so. General Gol'zag moved between them easily enough, his weapon ignited in front of him to deflect the blaster bolts away from his body while he weaved between those that went wide and astray.

Armored sabatons trudging up cobblestone and dirt, the Sith General propelled himself over an upturned commercial speeder to land amidst the defending soldiers that had taken refuge behind it. In the span of a few seconds the brief skirmish was all over, severed body parts and cloven weapons strewn about the mud-soaked stones.

Gol'zag aimed his lightsaber at the looming Trade Palace, which was being assaulted and surrounded from all avenues.

"Victory is near, push forward!"

 

[Darth Athora]

The dropship landed on Jabiim. Troopers jumped out, guns at the ready. After them, Zahori stepped down, followed by her accomplice. The dropship's engines died down as it awaited the Lord Admiral's hopefully safe return. The area surrounding the landing zone was barren besides a warehouse ahead of them. This was the meeting place for the business exchange she had planned. Far from the eyes of the current Trade Princes. Off the records. It was almost as if the place sprung up overnight.

"Inside." Zahori stated. The troopers moved in a column with Zahori behind them. They approached the warehouse, keeping vigilant of any who might interfere with the Lord Admiral's meeting.. One opened up the massive doors then the others moved inside, securing the area before Zahori walked in. The mercenaries leader was there at the center of the warehouse. Two of his lieutenants flanked him. They appeared to be unarmed, but Zahori knew better than to believe that. "Welcome to Jabiim, Captain Marmossa. I am sure your trip was quick and painless." Zahori began.

"Yes. It was. Thank you for inviting me, Lord Admiral. Your offer was very hard to turn away. If you keep your word, that is." the mercenary captain replied.

"I always keep my word, captain. I may be a Sith, but when I give my word I am bound by it. Even we have morals. Sometimes." she stated calmly.

"Then, we have a deal. We will get your pet where he needs to be in power and, once he gets there, we'll ensure he stays that way. For as long as you see keep the checks coming." said the captain, holding his hand out to shake Zahori's. She reached out with her hand and shook his. The deal was set. "Alright, guy. Let me explain your future to you. Better listen up and listen close. I don't repeat myself." the Jabiimi left Zahori's side reluctantly to speak with the captain. Zahori turned and left the warehouse to return to her command ship.