Invasion The Second Coming | TIC Invasion of TSO-Held Thandon Super Hex | Objective One

[Karl Von Strauss]

OBJECTIVE I​

During the first invasion of Brosi, the Sith managed to complete an intricate and complicated dark ritual, which brought to bare a world tree: a massive piece of flora pulsating with life and drawing strength from the Force. A living, breathing protector to the planet. However, it also makes for one heck of a target for the invaders.

Whereas the Imperials will no doubt try to cut down the tree, the Sith defenders are drawn to the likely attempt of retaining control over this tree and safeguarding it from the enemy attack.

The mightiest of warriors will be drawn to this maze of roots and branches-- an inevitable clash between those who wish to protect and those who wish to destroy what is already written in the stars.

 

[Aspect of Defiance]

​

The world tree raised during the first invasion of Brosi remains active and intact, drawing power from the Force and the planet itself. Imperial forces have identified the tree as a priority target, believing its destruction would weaken Brosi’s defenses and undo the effects of the ritual that reshaped the battlefield. Sith defenders are actively positioned to retain control of the tree and prevent Imperial access, turning the surrounding root network into a focal point of conflict. Fighting in this area favors close-quarters combat and sustained engagement, naturally drawing champions and frontline warriors into direct confrontation.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Outer Rim
Stygian Caldera
Brosi
Tags:
Load-out

Prologue​

Hostilities hadn't died, they'd merely cooled since the last attempted major incursion by TIC. So smaller attempts to needle the newly terraformed world and its Governor had come as no surprise. An annoyance? Yes, absolutely. But continued and escalated aggression seemed inevitable. So the Order readied itself for the call to war they knew would come again soon.

In the elapsing time, Brosi has changed from an industrially brutalized place to a veritable paradise of lush jungle planet and seemingly endless bounty. Construction on New Shoengen was well under way and hopeful new citizens of Brosi arrived daily. Businesses were established, suburban zones filled with denizens, and overall things on Brosi seemed to be growing toward some kind of equilibrium.

Things had been a blur even where the generally steady neti was concerned, for whom time elapsed differently than many sentients. In rapid succession, A'Mia had broken ground on her newest laboratory, made a series of discoveries and forged new alliances. Her most recent project, the reverse engineering of an ancient artifact, had consumed her entirely.

So invested in completing what she'd dubbed the "Altare De Campio", A'Mia finally fell into a restful stupor wherein she dreamed with the beasts and the blooms of Brosi. It wasn't until a disturbance roused her that she awoke again. Ire ignited, A'Mia put out the call to her most trusted allies that their aid would almost certainly be required soon. All the while, she gathered strength, coiled like an angry serpent in her den.

Present
​

With all the activity of a disturbed wasp nest and the ferocity of an angered primordial, the Order galvanized. Various Lords had gathered their forces and a particular few had visited with A'Mia just prior to aggressions fully boiling over, bringing her various boons or offers of direct support.

She had accepted each and every visitation with gratitude on behalf of herself but also Psilofyr — the heart of Brosi. No time was wasted in making preparations and A'Mia had been adamant that she would be protecting the foremost crown of the super organism's grove. The tallest tree made for the most tempting target after all.

It was fortunate that New Shoengen was ample distance away from the Grove of the First Risen, if only for the fact that for Brosi's governor it wouldn't be a matter of choosing which to prioritize protection of. The wilds were her truest love, if the neti was capable of such.

Still, the city represented significant resources spent and yet more to be gained, so the arboreal woman had ensured they were well prepared for the uncertainty and violence to come. More quietly, A'Mia had put the order out to all mortuaries and burial grounds were to divert all newly deceased to be transported to the wilds. These humble public servants knew not what for, all were too fearful to ask why, but Brosi's dead were being requisitioned in totality.

Interspersed throughout the forests, there were half a dozen altars being constructed that would soon see use.

---

Whispers and stirrings, metallic scents on the wind, the distant droning engines of war.

A'Mia had climbed up to the very base of the great tree, even entangling herself with the massive looping roots, many of which made their way above ground. There she stood, facing outward at her world with her back pressed to the mighty trunk of a tree still technically a seedling…

Psilofyr would one day cover the entire planet in rich, interconnected mycelium. But that day would never come if she did not fight for him.

The neti had undergone her own preparations for war as well, not just galvanizing her allies and the planet, but reinforcing her shapeshifting botanical form with extra biomass. She currently stood at an impressive 10 meters tall, yes still dwarfed by the tree at her back. Her skin had shifted from red-brown to a darker mottled green and brown more in line with the surrounding jungle.

Her vine like hair was woven into many loose, bone bead adorned braids and she wore the armor that Darth Caedes crafted, without the helm encasing her head. A'Mia's large eyes and alien features were only exaggerated in the transformation and the woman truly appeared as an entity of nature, an almost Gaia figure.

In the skies above, fearsome drakes brought by Taeli Raaf circled and awaited prey to tear into. Smaller, faster slipstream adar traveled in little flocks, flitting to and fro whilst acting as scouts or messengers for various war parties. Despite imminent conflict, the forest teemed with life because Brosi was not a place where the creatures stilled or quieted at the prospect of a passing predator. No, Brosi roared and gnashed its teeth, flexed its claws and faced a foe head on, Brosi gave no quarter.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: This | WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Howling Death
ALLIES:: Srina Talon | Madrona A’Mia | Mercy | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Taeli Raaf
ENEMIES:: Taregh Garon​

Brosi had changed. The Dread Wolf had not set foot on the planet since he last helped to defend it and to aid those he now called friends. It was an odd crew to be sure, but they anticipated one another in ways Gerwald had not found since his days among the Confederacy. They were misfits in temperament and origin, which was precisely why they functioned so well together. An Echani, a Marr, a Neti, a Clawdite, and a Lupo had borne something into being on Brosi, and Madrona A’Mia had remained behind to tend it and guide its growth.

She had done far more than that.

There was no ritual to protect this time, nor any moment waiting to be completed. Psilofyr was still at work, reshaping the planet in ways that could not be rushed or interrupted without consequence. What stood before him was not a beginning, but a process that demanded time to continue, even if it had to be enforced by strength. If the Imperials reached the tree, if they damaged its growth or poisoned what it anchored, they would not merely scar Brosi. They would force the world backward into something it had already shed. The thought drew a low tension through him. It was the kind that preceded violence rather than what came after it.

The world no longer bore the blunt and exhausted marks of the industrial ruin he remembered. Growth pressed outward from old scars with deliberate patience, reclaiming ground that had once been stripped bare. Jungle crowded former corridors of extraction, and the land carried purpose that went much further than recovery alone. Beyond the reach of the great tree, New Shoengen rose with measured intent. Its foundations were laid to endure because they were meant to protect and support. Lives had taken root here, not cautiously, but with confidence. Brosi did not feel pacified.

It felt claimed.

The massive tree stood where the Psilofyr seed had been planted. Its presence dominated the clearing, its roots cutting deep through stone and soil alike and threading themselves through the planet as if asserting ownership. The fragrance stirred the wolf within him, not in a way that would cause him to lose control, but one that forced him to focus. This was ground that answered to him now. Gerwald felt the tension build as he waited for the coming clash. The anticipation settled into his bones. Memory returned to the battle with the Lord of Hunger and to the weight that presence had placed upon the Force. He had not only been meant to triumph that day. His purpose had been to endure long enough to ensure the ritual survived. The tree that now towered over him existed because that duty had been fulfilled.

Now they gathered to ensure it endured.

Some returned to ground they already knew, drawn back by obligation and memory. Others arrived for the first time, answering the call to defend it. The presence around the grove felt denser than before, layered with unfamiliar currents moving alongside those Gerwald recognized. It was an eclectic band of warriors once more, and the Dread Wolf would not have had it any other way.

The screeching of the drakes which the Lady of Secrets had gifted to the Neti to serve as protectors pulled his attention from wherever it had been lost. Their cries echoed through the canopy and along the roots, sharp and territorial, moving through the growth with certainty rather than alarm. No doubt Srina Talon , the Silver Dragon herself, would be pleased to see what Taeli Raaf had brought with her to stand watch over this place. Brosi no longer relied on walls or distance. It answered the intrusion with living guardians and teeth bared.

Gerwald stepped closer and rested a gauntleted hand against the bark. There was nothing inert about it. The tree responded beneath his touch, not with warmth, but with an awareness, a slow recognition that settled through the roots and back into him. It was alive in the way a weapon was alive in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. It was responsive and ready. This was no longer about guarding a ritual long since completed. Psilofyr was still working. It was still reshaping the planet, and it required time. Gerwald would ensure it had all the time that was required for it to finish its task.

The ground shifted as distant movement registered through the roots, subtle adjustments rippling outward beneath his feet. Brosi was not watching the horizon. It was listening for pressure, measuring intent through contact rather than sound. Gerwald drew a slow breath and felt the wolf settle into a low, controlled hunger. This battle would not announce itself with speeches or threats. It would begin the moment something set foot where it did not belong.

If the Imperials meant to strike at the heart of what Brosi had become, then they would do so knowing they stood on Sith ground. Gerwald remained within the living maze of roots and stone, prepared to meet them there, because Brosi did not merely belong to those who had defended it once. It belonged to the Sith Order now, and he intended to ensure it remained so.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The cool waters lapped at the shoreline, a gentle rolling undulation that carried with it a quiet rhythm not unlike a heartbeat. His armored greaves dug into the soft earth on the lake's shore, the very grass trampled underfoot writhing with conscious life; a connected ecosystem drenched in the power of the Dark Side. All of it was intertwined, the whole environment animated with blasphemous life.

Darth Carnifex hadn't been on Brosi during the last engagement. He'd been preoccupied in space, launching a direct assault upon the enemy fleet with a single Star Destroyer. Even then, the Star Destroyer had been only a mechanism by which the Dark Lord was delivered onto the enemy flagship. His efforts and those of the combined Sith and Commonwealth defense fleet drove the Confederation back, limping and bloodied.

He'd opted not to repeat the same tactics as last time. This time, He'd come directly to the tree born from the ritual during the last battle. He marveled at the dark energy which flowed through its many branches, journeying through the many boroughs and root systems. Now He found Himself at the shore of a great lake within one of those boroughs, one whose waters were invigorated with the dark energy emanating from the tree. Thick roots snaked deep beneath the water's surface, creating a thick tangle at the lake's bottom.

Reaching down, He scooped up a cupful of water from the lake's surface and brought it up to His lips. The water was sharp, bitter, and left an oily residue on the tongue. Nonetheless, He could feel the dark power that had bonded to each molecule of water, felt it spread out inside of Him as the water was absorbed. All things the World Tree Psilofyr touched carried its essence, from the water around its roots to the fruit growing along its branches.

He shook what little water remained on His hand away before turning His back on the lake. Around Him were an assembled cadre of loyal warriors and zealous acolytes, all of whom had pledged their lives in service to His greatness. They bowed in the presence of His gaze, averting their own in unworthiness. Only a scant few had the honor of holding His sight without withering under it. Virtually all of them were His loyal retainers, warriors and sorcerers who had served diligently and faithfully for many years.

One, however, was a new face.

Reina Daival.

He'd first become aware of her in the aftermath of the Kainate operation on Tof, she'd been one of the pair to bring Him the last surviving Tof Princess. He'd kept track of her since then, monitoring her movements and keeping appraised of her actions on multiple worlds. She'd now come at His express invitation, one that was immensely difficult to refuse due to the means in which it had been given. Despite such overhand methods, the Dark Lord held no ill will or fell designs for the woman. His interest was more curious than malicious.

Walking past, she was expected to fall in line with the others as they turned and followed. A robust base camp had been erected in the shade of the World Tree, the banners of the Kainate displayed proudly in the gentle breeze. A command tent had been set aside for His specific use, and only He was authorized to grant anyone entrance. As it happened, she alone held that honor.

When they were alone, the Dark Lord turned to look at her. "What are these Imperials to you, in your estimation?" The question was a simple one on the surface, but every time the Dark Lord spoke it was as if she'd been struck by a physical force. The authority with which He spoke was an evident indicator as to who He'd once been, and hinted at what He'd since become.

Emperor.

Butcher King.

Tyrant.

He let the question hang in the air, uninterested in the speed at which she replied so long as she eventually gave one. Instead, He moved to prepare tea. A pot had already been set aside before His arrival, and it had only just begun to boil after they'd entered. He took it off the heat and began to pour the boiling water into cups lined with unctuous herbs from His homeworld of Panatha, ones that now no longer existed in nature.

With cups in hand, the Dark Lord assumed His seat at the center of the tent, where a great arrangement of pillows and rugs had been assembled for His pleasure. He set both cups down on a small, short wooden table. One directly in front of Him, and the other opposite for Reina.

There He awaited her answer as the tea began to cool.

Reina Daival ​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Allies: Srina Talon Madrona A’Mia Gerwald Lechner Darth Carnifex Mercy Darth Caedes Revna Marr
Enemies: TIC
Armor: Camlann | Equipment: Lightsaber | Shoto | Farrus Sphere containing a Misini Drake
​

The growth of Brosi and Psilofyr had been nothing short of remarkable to observe. Once, the planet had been an industrial wasteland, broken apart for valuable minerals and then poisoned. Once, it had been the site of a new disease, intent on weakening the planet and its people for what was to come. The Imperial Confederation had invaded, seeking to pry the Holy Worlds away, starting with Brosi. Still, their attack had only galvanized the Sith response and the growth of what Brosi had become. In many ways, it reminded her of Valrar and what she had shaped that world into over the decades. It had become an incubator, a test site, a world that allowed unmitigated exploration and refinement of alchemical and biological evolution. Brosi, while she had not been present for the initial battle, had become an investment to the Lady of Secrets... an investment she intended to help protect.

The signs and probes had all been there for a second attempt at the planet, and they had once again struck into the Holy Worlds, starting with Brosi. The Sith Order had not truly returned the favor to the Imperial Confederation after the first incursion, showing restraint against their Imperial rivals. They had allowed the matter to simmer while they turned their attentions elsewhere, closer to their main territory, but that restraint had been mistaken for weakness it seemed by the Confederation. They were coming again, but this time, she was personally helping to defend the planet.

The drakes she had provided were nestled high above, waiting for their riders and orders. The other creatures she had provided to A'mia and her world, to flesh out and expand its ecosystem, were already entrenched and could feel the rising darkness as the Sith prepared for battle. For the moment, as a raven would alight onto Quinn Varanin 's shoulder a system away, she was sitting in the boughs of the tree overlooking the Grove of the First Risen, waiting.

Simply waiting for the battle to come... and in her hand, a small cup from a set with Panatha tea leaves that she had borrowed, the tea steaming as she sipped.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Darth Carnifex
Objective:

The entire planet had felt wrong. Seeped in darkness that permeated everything surrounding her. Yet the sickness that the dark used to inflict upon Reina had been...dulled. There was still a weight in the pit of her stomach that continued to weigh her down as she took in Brosi. This was the closest Reina had been to her homeworld. Minntooine. She couldn't recall ever being there. But it was meant to be her home all the same.

It was part of why this was her first...job with the Sith that wasn't as a mercenary. It definitely wasn't with her being a Sith. She was not one of those. Though there was a small voice in the back of her mind that insisted it was only a matter of time. But it didn't suit her. In the same vein that having been a Jedi didn't suit her, she doubted that being a Sith would be a different result.

She had to focus on the present however, as she attempted to follow in step with the others around her. Obedience had...never been a strong suit for the Ersansyr. She was always a moment too late. A moment too late to fall in line, to bow, to turn her head. There was that distinct feeling of terror, rooted deep in her chest amidst the presence of Him. Darth Carnifex. Even as she entered the tent, Reina attempted her best to keep her head held low. That, at the very least was easy for the woman. As stubborn as she was, the redhead had never had a high enough opinion of herself to keep her head up high.

That was when she asked a question. Yet it felt far more physical than a simple ask. There was power in the words, if not the question. Strangely, Reina wondered if that was meant to be the power behind her own words, that she simply didn't know how to use. Yet Reina dismissed that thought. Carnifex was not an Ersansyr. Not that she knew of at least. Whatever power was held within his voice, it was not the same as her's.

"...They're plankton, in a vast ocean. Merely adrift. They have no guiding force. Even when they attempted to hire me, I felt that way."

The Ersansyr reached for the cup of tea, gently blowing against it before bringing it to her lips to drink. Even now, her voice felt strained. It was taking much effort on her part to even feel worthy enough to speak in the presence of Him. Not because He was Darth Carnifex, nor because He was a Dark Lord. Simply put, it was because He was important, and she was not.

"They pick fights with beings far larger than themselves. The plankton can not expect to win against that of the Great White, nor against that of the Killer Whale."

Perhaps the metaphor were a bit much, but it seemed like an apt description for both the Sith Order and the Mandalorian Empire. She continued to sip at the tea, her gaze staring at her reflection amidst the liquid.

"...But plankton's greatest strength is in its numbers. No matter how many are killed, there is always more. Somewhere."
​

 

[Ella Nova]

---

---

Brosi, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster, Corporate Sector, Sith Vassal State.
Tag: Taeli Raaf

---

"Darth Arcanix. My name is Serj Sularis. I am a retired investment banker from Harnaidan, Muunilinst... When Darth Ayra was laid to rest on Chandrila her collection came into my hands, where I have kept it in secret. I am now set to auction off these items, and so your request for an invitation has been accepted. I am looking forward to meeting with you."
-- An invitation to Taeli Raaf for the first Convocation of Sojourn.

---

THE SECOND COMING, OBJECTIVE I
' The Second Battle of Brosi '


~

This story does not have a happy ending. People are beginning to work things out. Getting closer to knowing who I am, and when that happens, it all goes bust. I am fine with that. Salvation wasn't what I was after. I can live with the consequences. It can all be worth it if I can see this out. I want to see, with my own two eyes, a day where they were put back in the dirt. If it meant that I was going to be put down with them then so be it. Someone has to take the responsibility. An eye for an eye.

~

The Ufo is an anomalous thing. Some months prior, way out there in the Core Worlds, a dossier reporting the sighting of a strange craft in Chandrilian airspace was filed, and subsequently forgotten about, by an Imperial security patrol who were making a run somewhere close-by to the ancestral burial grounds of House Calis. No doubt that file was now long forgotten about, perhaps destroyed, as the regime upon Imperial Centre fell to the Sith Covenant that had taken the Tapani sector and used it as the staging grounds to finish what the Galactic Emperor had started on Desevro.

Nova knew something about that. Someone else starting something, and the burden of finishing it.

Shoengen loomed in the distant horizon. If it were not for the battle then, perhaps, someone would see it. Strange lights out on a horizon of the loomed day caste in iron and bleak star rays which served as a distraction for the woman who landed there to see the end of her conspiracy to eliminate the Sith vassal state found within the Thandon Star Cluster. It was one of those moments you had to be there to see it for yourself. The culmination of an amalgamation of things coming to the fore. Tribulations which paved the way to help you towards the precipice. They say Imperialism is dying, you know. Cousins were felled by other Sith blades recently. Would these stalwarts from New Aldera join them?

A twisted reflection.

Wind rattled Nova's back as she cast her crimson gaze upon ruined skies. The air smells different than before. Her shoulder still aches from the last time that she stepped foot onto these grounds. There had been something beautiful about Brosi in the past. A tourist destination the CSA used to advertise it back in the 870s. Only bad men, and those who fit somewhere in between, would ever come here now. Deformed, the Jedi would have described the earth now. Quietly Ella kind of liked it. This sky spoke somewhere where the soul ought to be. Lost girl. Ayra's anointed one. Deaths beckons.

Lights begun to die around the fallen Jedi, turned Imperial co-conspirator, as the strange ship behind them powered down. Nova left the mouth of it open. These people, that she had pushed, and conspired against, were the worse. She was almost killed by one in a tower inside the city below during the last battle. Assassinated was an apt description. Was Locke going to find her again, and finish what she had started? It was cowardly, some would say, to be on the fringes of the fighting and not down there with them in the dirt. Nova wasn't like von Strauss, or Sularen. Tane was a better man than her certainly. Bane, she would think, would appreciate her work. Cunning. Clever. Let the others do it for you. We shed our robes for a reason, Ayra had taught.

"Master. I have finished," spoke the protocol unit. Nova had almost forgotten about it. This type of day tends to stir the memory pot, and bubble up things she would rather forget. Meditation forced her remember, however. Somethings you have to keep the stew your hatred. Wordlessly, Nova turned to survey a Dejarik board. It was an old Jedi game. Gamblers loved it. A holographic black-and-white checkerboard shined up from the table stand, and near it, a transmitter would tell her which way the pendulum was swinging on Brosi. Knowing when to go all-in, and then to pull-out, was the mark of a seasoned tactician. A strategic retreat, the Imperial says. Living to fight another day.

Why does it feel like a rope is around her neck now?

---

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Brosi (Somewhere along the base of the World Tree)
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SO ALLIES: Madrona A’Mia | Taeli Raaf | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | Reina Daival | Mercy
TIC ENEMY: TBA

____________________________________________________

“…The storm is coming.”

She stood beneath Psilofyr with a small hand resting on the bark of the World Tree, feeling the slow, patient pressure of it answering her touch. The sapling that they had given life to had evolved in a relatively short time from something inquisitive and youthful to something that hedged on wisdom. It learned. From the gifts that they’d provided so long ago and from the Hordemother ( Madrona A’Mia ) who tended it in her governance of the now verdant world.

It was to the neti that she spoke, letting the foliage, the unnatural flowers, and the mycelium network carry her warning. Their sensors and satellites had yet to report a disturbance, but there was something heavy in the air that made her call for warning. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out after the meeting with the Mandalorians that the Imperial Confederation was preparing to invade. The free mention of the Holy Worlds coming under fire was nothing if not a call to arms, a cry to prepare for war.

Their tree knew of war from the bodies it had consumed, but it had barely been awake when they’d cemented it to Brosi and began to integrate it with the natural flora of the mining world. This would be a new experience for it. Jarring. Srina, quietly, offered it apologies that she wasn’t sure it would be able to understand. Small vines rose of their own accord to wrap around her wrist, and the Empress let it happen…For a tree so mighty?

It was still so young.

It was of Sith creation…But not strictly, Sith. The sentience it had been blessed with was a double-edged sword. It could anticipate the needs of the planet, it remembered her, but it also felt fear. It had the capacity for more than just creating shade and fruit…

It remembered the sky burning.

No doubt Srina Talon , the Silver Dragon herself, would be pleased to see what Taeli Raaf had brought with her to stand watch over this place. Brosi no longer relied on walls or distance. It answered the intrusion with living guardians and teeth bared.

This time was different…This time—Brosi mattered. It was more than just a foothold for resources. She knew it, the enemy knew it, and they would fight the Faithless with all they had. Srina knew what true Imperialism looked like courtesy of Ivalyn Yvarro and the Commonwealth. This…This Imperial block was most certainly not it.

She slowly pulled away from the tree and unwound the vines with more care than one might give an abomination credit for. It would likely be wounded enough sooner than later. Nothing in her wanted to contribute to that. Not when it coiled around her like a child sensing her tension and the collective movements of the Sith Order while they readied themselves for a war of attrition. The sound of a screeching roar overhead caught her attention, and she turned her eyes skyward to see her drake circling overhead before a gust of wind signaled its landing nearby…Starting to bicker, with the drake Mercy had been given by the Lady of Secrets.

“She has your manners…”, the soft barb was murmured to the much taller woman, though there was no bite behind it. Aside from ensuring that information was consolidated within the Sith Order about her findings and providing what she could in the wake of Atrisia and Coruscant, she had spent her time both recovering and helping to prepare the Holy Worlds for assault. The temptation to strike first had been intense, but the will of her advisors had won out.

Let them come, they said. Let them come.

She whistled, and her drake shifted away from that of her companion, settling among the roots, wings half-furled. Its massive body remained still as stone with violet heat that shimmered along black scales, bright, but never quite burning freely. “You should respect something that flies, breathes plasma, tracks enemies for weeks…And still lets you sit on it.”, there was a mote of humor in her frost-bitten tones, but it wasn’t likely to last. The red-haired Warlord had gotten better in the last few weeks, but it was still an uphill battle.

“And remember…It’s not a speeder.”

These creatures were not meant to be dominated or controlled. They were meant to be bonded with, to the point where a mere thought could call them down from the sky and influence their actions. It was a delicate relationship of give and take where the drake obeyed because it wanted to, because it was loyal, not because it was being forced to do so. “You see how her eyes follow you?”, the question was posted with Srina raising her fist toward Mercy, acting as if she might strike her. The drake huffed and nostrils flared with a low growl…

Protective of the Covenant Warlord.

Vaelcryx, her drake, didn’t seem to react to it, knowing that the Empress didn’t have any violent intentions. These lessons had given Srina something to focus on, kept her from disassociating after the battle on Coruscant. She didn’t pull back from the field or her duties, but there was something sharper about her now. There were only a few who knew how very close she had been to death…But that was by design. She kept it all inside, regulated to that narrow place, sealed away, because it served no one.

She could not be weak.

She could not indulge weakness.

Coruscant had taken her by surprise. There was this strange lie that people told themselves, that death came with a warning, with drama, with time to resist it. For her, it had been sudden. A miscalculation due to unseen variables. A failure of containment. The sudden and absolute knowledge that…She had not been enough. Her face began to cool by degrees in Mercy’s presence…Gold-hewn eyes seeming distant. Frozen, and far away.

She remembered the way sensation collapsed inward with sound thinning until even the Force was out of reach. As though she’d been trying to reach through layers of ash and glass. What unsettled her when she thought too hard about it wasn’t the darkness or oblivion…It was the stillness. A sense of being held at the edge of herself. She had felt Quinn Varanin faint and furious…Unable to help her. Mercy’s presence, too. Raw and burning… Darth Carnifex had lingered in her periphery, vast and irreplaceable, an anchor that…

Refused to let go.

Refused to let her go.

The memory tightened something in her chest that made her jaw tighten. It wasn’t fear…But anger. Annoyance, frustration with herself. It was not something she was accustomed to. Brosi’s roots pressed back against her boots, suddenly, as if to bring her back to the present. She breathed in deeply and glanced up at Mercy without words. How had they gotten here?

She was at ease in the company of a sociopath when she barely felt comfortable in her own skin.

“You are used to being the strongest, to forcibly bending things so that they obey you, either with words or your fists…If you force your will on her she will throw you…”

The hollow inside her had not gone, but at least, she was present. The war would not end because she wanted it to. The Imperial Confederation had sought to cut them off at the knees more than once, so she highly doubted they would stop just because Brosi resisted. They would need to be made to stop, brought down, with fire and hate. Her eyes drifted past Mercy and angled toward the sky… It wouldn’t be long now.

She could feel it…War. Coming.

Here.

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces NPC Units Drake "Vaelcryx" Unknown

 

[Mercy]

ALLIES: Taeli Raaf | Madrona A’Mia | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr
DIRECT: Srina Talon

"Let them come." Mercy responded while watching the flight path of the two drake’s. The pattern of their flight was amusing to behold. As if they were teasing one another, similar to how Srina and her pushed against one another at every opportunity.

A gift from the alchemist herself, the mother of beasts, the monster-maker. Taeli Raaf was one of the women whose tales Mercy had always appreciated while growing into her own. Raaf was of a generation later than her true former idol, Ashin Varanin, but in a way that generational skip showcased the hunger that each subsequent series brought.

So the gift would have been appreciated regardless of what it was.

A dragon however? That was a gift of a whole other caliber. They called it a drake, but Mercy’s dragon… was a touch different. She suspected that she had Madrona A’Mia to thank for that. The tree-mother had insisted on spending some time with the egg.

The result was that Mercy’s drake, lovingly called Babygirl, was huge. Far larger than she had a right to be and larger than her siblings.

If there was an irony in that, it was certainly lost to Mercy, who simply believed that is how it was supposed to be.

"Good. Any creature I ride should be formidable enough to carry me." Mercy responded without hesitation as the mounts landed. Hers causing a little tremble, but Mercy stepped forward with eyes gleaming heat.

"Who is a good girl?" Mercy purred lovingly, rubbing its nose as her other hand scratched its neck with clear attention.

"Yes, it’s you… yes, it is YOU." Laughing as the drake made a purring noise in the back of its throat, rubbing her own nose against that of the drake. Which was suicidal, considering they weren’t bonded that tightly yet. But they had spent a lot of time together since the hatching of the egg and the surprise of its fast rapid growth.

"Mm, I remember your lessons, darling." Mercy murmured over her shoulder to Srina. "But I know how to approach disparate creatures. Some… require a firm hand, others… require some gentleness in the execution."

Finally Mercy turned around, letting the snout of the drake push into her back with another laugh.

It was so rare to hear Mercy laugh. Not smirk, grin or another swarmy expression. Just a laugh, warm and uncomplicated.

"There is little shame in staying behind. If you are not ready yet. Coruscant was hard on you, even if you refuse to let anyone see it." You don’t have to show me… I know. "I will use my strength to defend this place just as I used it to conquer Coruscant. Why not rest?"

But there was a challenge in her eyes there.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: TIMBER!!
BROSI

It was a pleasure to burn.

For the last couple of months, Ronhar had been developing a true hatred of all things jungle and forest related. His hatred had started on the planet Myrkr, where he had been nearly torn apart by a pack of vicious Vornskr. Next, it had been cultivated on Mon Cala, where the planet's jungle had made the war games he had participated in far more difficult than they should have been. Finally, his hatred had gone into full bloom on Brosi, where the Sith Order had transformed the planet's once barren wastelands into a veritable paradise teeming with life, life which was undoubtedly completely and utterly hostile to Ronhar and his men. These days, it seemed that every galaxy forsaken planet that Ronhar landed on had an abundance of vegetation that was actually trying to hinder his every move.

On Myrkr, he had been unable to do anything about it on order to avoid scaring off the planet's Ysalamiri that he was seeking to collect, while Mon Cala had been a planet owned by friendly forces, preventing Ronhar from bombing it into oblivion. But Brosi? That was a completely different story. In fact, his primary objective was nothing less than the complete and utter destruction of the planet's ecosystem, including the massive World Tree that the Sith's ritual had brought to life. It was enormous, impossible to miss, and surely of importance to maintaining whatever magic the Sith had conjured up to transform Brosi into what it was now.

Ronhar was here to put a stop to all that.

The fact that the Von Strauss-class Cargo Ships transporting the Imperial Remnant's invasion force had managed to land on the planet intact was nothing short of a small miracle, even despite the fact that they had been harassed by a number of unusual flying creatures. Still, they brought with them what Ronhar believed to be a serious threat to the planet's safety. Legions of All Terrain Advanced Armored Transports, All Terrain Cargo Transporters, All Terrain Armored Assault Walkers, All Terrain Acid Cannons, All Terrain Modular Artillery Platforms and TIE Walkers began rumbling across the battlefield, smashing through everything in their path a slow, lumbering pace. They were supported by a small number of Imperial Armored Assault Tanks, Swift Assault 5000s and STR - "Rancors", which were systematically destroying as much Brosi's forest as possible, to try and clear some sort of path for the more heavily armored war machines.

Scores of KX/B1 "Monster Droids", Refurbished B2 Super Battle Droids, ZQ Infantry Support Units and Strider Droids walked forward as if they were an unending tide of metal and electronics, supported by a far smaller number of Storm Commandos and ARC Troopers. The Imperial Remnant had heard tales of men being mind controlled by the Sith, and had wished to minimize the chance of that happening again as much as possible. Their varied armament of NA-20 Defoliant Projectors, Mahporeem Acid Rifles, L7 Ribbon Rifles, AAF-8 Scatterguns, GHE 85x2s and EGR-16s would hopefully prove sufficient in suppressing the native wildlife.

Above the skies of Brosi, Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators were indiscriminately dropping Mk II Viral Bombs filled with Necrotic Scourge Mist Virus and Noxinium A all over the place as TIE/ews attempted to penetrate the forest's thick vegetation with their scanners, though they were having a rather difficult time doing so. All in all, the invasion was so far going far more smoothly than Ronhar ever could have anticipated, which was why he was exceedingly nervous. The fact that his men had been allowed to land more or less intact could not have been a coincidence or luck: if the Sith really wanted him off their planet, they would have stopped him in space. More likely, they needed intact bodies on the ground for some other sort of foul ritual, though what that could be Ronhar didn't dare to imagine.

For the moment, the lumbering armada continued its crawling pace across the planet as Ronhar flew overhead in the MIN Night Reaver. He could see the World Tree jutting out into the sky, despite the distance between him and it. One way or another, that was where his destiny laid, and he was determined to reach that destiny no matter what stood in his way!

TAGS:
Madrona A’Mia
OPEN...IF YOU DARE!

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Armor | Nightstar | Bracer of the Grove Knight
​

Allies: Madrona A’Mia Revna Marr Gerwald Lechner Srina Talon Darth Carnifex Darth Caedes Taeli Raaf Mercy
Foe: Kito

​

In truth, whatever Brosi had been to him once, had moved on. The humidity engulfed him the instant he stepped into the wilderness, saturating every everywhere beneath the matte-black plating. Since the last Imperial invasion, Lysander had barely set foot here. A visit, maybe two.. just enough to pretend this place was any semblance of home.

But that didn’t mean the terrain was unfamiliar. The Sith’s steps adjusted as they would, finding purchase, following the rhythm. He was arriving after others were already settled into position. Of course, preparations were underway long before their enemy's ships would arrive.

Alongside him marched an entire squad of eradicator acolytes. The putrid scent of Coruscant clung to their armor, serving as a reminder of destruction in the Core. Their hands were but a whisper away from lightsabers, itching to taste victory of battle once more.

Within the grove, the currents of the Force bore familiar signatures. Some were distant, barely felt; others so near they seemed to hum. The presence of Lords and Knights, dark auras saturating the soil. Mercy. The Silver Dragon, Lady Talon. His cousin, Revna, too. Although his path guided him through Tapani and its neighboring systems more often these days, loyalty was never a ledger. Call it foolish, if one needed a word, but he accepted this without apology. Brosi belonged to the Order, and also his sister, A’Mia. And perhaps, that alone was reason enough.

A glance was spared to the drakes. Other Sithspawn moved at the edges of his awareness. Packs of Maeldrae being among them, woven into the grove’s defenses.

Desevro's obsidian armor blended with the shadows as he stalked forward. Nightstar, his sword of choice, was ever ready in his grasp, gleaming like a star with the promise of death.

In no time, he slowed to a pause before the life tree. Raising his blade just enough, Lysander summoned the acolyte’s attention.

“Break your spacing,” the instruction came low and sharp. At first, his gaze never acknowledged them fully, only outlining where he gave them permission to claim by tilting his sword. “Follow the roots. Should the ground tighten, then you’ve gone too far.”

His thumb slid along the hilt. “Pairs only. No solo movement. If you lose sight of each other, pull back.”

Only then, a backward glance; green irises sharpened, fed by the dark already stirring in his blood.

“The rest of you hold here.”

The formation shifted immediately. Some slipped away, and others closed in around him. For now, Lysander would remain where he was.

 

[Revna Marr]

Objective One
Gear/Items: Armor, Lightsaber, Battle Drake
SO Allies: Srina Talon // Gerwald Lechner // Madrona A’Mia // Taeli Raaf // Darth Carnifex // Darth Caedes // Mercy

The consensus after the last clash with the Imperial Confederation had been correct.

The Sith may have pushed back the Imperials and won the fight…but the war was far from over.

While the Imperials licked their wounds and recalibrated for their next move against their foes, the Sith too fortified and prepared themselves, once the dead were taken care of and celebrations finished. Revna had been busy; she had split her time between her Master and the Order of Wonosa and her duties there, and her time with Darth Caedes and the Empress herself, Srina Talon - aiding them wherever she could, or just providing companionship when it was desired.

Caedes, unfortunately, had been distant. She figured it had something to do with the nature of his work and well, his nature. Moments of affection were fleeting and becoming fewer and farther between. It left an aching, absent hole in her heart - but she carried that pain silently. She chided herself often when her mind strayed; she had accepted this when she agreed on that Dance Floor what felt like an age ago, to become his Queen.

Duties first, love second, she supposed.

Revna knelt upon the soft moss and soil at her feet, and dipped her fingers into the ground. She closed her eyes and felt Brosi respond to her touch, little vinelings rising up to coil around her fingers. There was awareness there, some sort of quiet communication that Revna intuitively understood. She felt the heart and soul of her dearest friend - no, her Grove family, A’Mia, amidst it all. Their minds touched through little filaments of mycelia that interwove throughout all of Brosi.

...To war again, my dear. You have my sword, and my violence. I will give you many sacrifices for all that you have done for me…

The screeching of the battle drakes that the Lady of Secrets had brought, pierced through the air above the jungle canopy. It pulled Revna back to the present moment, to what lay ahead of her, of all those who had come to defend the Holy Worlds once more against these so called Imperials.

How long would the Sith tolerate their continued existence??

Revna reached out her mind and touched the bestial awareness of a grayish-black Misini Arira that she had claimed for herself. She had always wanted a battle mount, an animal companion that was loyal to her. A singular draconic being separated from the flock and descended to the glade she stood in with a muted thud. There was a brief battle of wills, of dominance, between them - Sithspawn would challenge their masters, until a solid connection was formed. Revna was not afraid, though she respected this beautiful and dangerous creature for what it was, and that respect was what had won this creature over. Revna partially closed the distance between them, and raised her hand. The female battle drake was still for a long moment, fierce eyes staring at her, before it moved in and pressed its snout against Revna’s palm.

Respect shown, and allowance given for further connection. This was not to be a slave to her will, but a loyal companion whose willingness to serve her came of its own free will. Loyalty earned was far more powerful and long lasting than submission wrought through force. Revna moved a hand along the scales, feeling the life and power beneath. Though a bond had already started between these two, Revna knew the coming battles would test it and further strengthen it.

“You need a name, my beauty…” Revna murmured quietly to her newest companion. The female drake chuffed and rumbled, one fiery eye tracking her as she made her way towards the bent joint of the wing that would allow Revna to climb aboard its back. “I will think of one that suits you…”

Without fanfare, Revna stepped up on the wing and pulled herself into the saddle upon its back. She was no stranger to riding Sithspawn, and though she was somewhat new to riding a flying creature, she’d already done a few flights with the Drake, to work out the unfamiliarity of it and find her balance, her rhythm. Revna was, and always had been, a quick learner. Learning to fly on a Battle Drake was no different. It was a challenge to face and overcome, one that the Sith embraced with eagerness.

With a tap of her hand against armored scales, wings launched them both into the air and towards the canopy once more, to find others who were waiting for the sword to drop as well. Now Revna would wait for the word, to be unleashed upon the common enemy. And once she was, there would be no stopping her…not until the battle reached its conclusion, and a victor emerged on the other side.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Srina Talon //: Mercy //: @”Templar”
//: The World Tree //:
​

---

How she hated this planet and what occurred the last time she was here. The battle against something so vile still lingered in the back of her mind.

The feeling of the Force being canceled out and churned into pure energy was an interesting endeavor. It drove the former Queen to study and learn — only to better prepare herself for the future.

Again, Spencer wasn't one to interfere with the frivolous wars of her children. Still, sometimes a child needed a stronger and steadier hand when it came to discipline. And unlike most mothers, she had a favorite, and that one child seemed troubled.

As much as Srina often kept to herself, hiding behind the wall of ice she protected herself with, Spencer could see through it as if it were glass. She watched the Empress move, carefully caring for the tree she had helped usher into this land. Brosi breathed differently; it didn't scream for a savior anymore. Spencer felt it, the churn of life brought forth by the ritual she had helped protect.

"Life is interesting, isn't it, my padawan…" She spoke carefully to the armored woman beside her. The stoic relic often had her own thoughts, garbled behind the test of time. Still, to be awoken during this frightful time in the galaxy meant something. Maybe not yet, but her rebirth was almost prophetic.

She waited for the ancient warrior's answer, nodding whether she agreed or not. "Mind the perimeter for a moment, there's one that may need me for just a moment."

Her eyes would follow the padawan's actions momentarily. She nodded, and through their mental connection, Templar would feel her Master probing, searching, and watching from behind her eyes.

Spencer watched as she let her wife's mongrel of an apprentice speak with her favored. It was a curious partnership, and she wondered how and why. Though again, she didn't involve herself in her child's relationships. Her eyebrows rose for a moment, and then she paused to listen.
Almost laughing out loud at the conversation.

"As much as I adore my wife, I still try and find reasons why she's taken on this brute," A jest at the fire-haired warlord, one she had heard often.

"Asking the child to respect something is like asking her to wear a dress…" Spencer wrinkled her nose in the same fashion as Quinn often would when she knew she was teasing.

"Impossible."

Spencer paused, her face softening momentarily as she looked towards Srina. Her features, giving enough words for the Empress to know she worried — What is bothering you, my sweet child?

 

[Lirka Ka]

ALLIES - TSO
ENEMIES - TIC, Direct: T'zarna Khab

To live aware of the ebb and flow of the Primordial Darkness beyond was to embrace the cycles of violence that controlled the Galaxy within oneself entirely. So now here Lirka Ka stood upon Brosi once more. Though it was certainly a world change, warped by the Dark Arts of the Sith. Pulsating with life anew from the like of @Madrona A'Mia and the rest of the Lords of the Holy Worlds of the Sith. The transience of new life, a world of drab industry now glowed with hues of green of the wild plant life that covered the world.

And soon, it all would run red.

The Imperials believe they had a chance, the arrogance of the Orderly emanated once more. They'd throw themselves against the Wall and Lirka Ka would be there to meet them, blade in hand. Disgust in her black hearts. The folly of those that thought the chaos could ever be contained - as if crushing these holy worlds, grinding them to ash and dust and raising monoliths to eclipses the Sith would make a difference. As if a new horror wouldn't rise. As if the zealots wouldn't only seethe to greater evil.

Perhaps that is why Lirka Ka loved war. It was the cynicism of the Primordial Darkness manifest.

All of the great Lords of the Sith had made their stand here within the Thandon. And Lirka had little intention to allow her fellow Councilors to steal all the glory - indeed, while a great many had centralized themselves closer to the great World Tree. Lirka stood far away from the thing, at the borders of its domain. She would be the first into the fray, the predator stalking the jungle so hostile to a creature of hardened steel and whirring machinery like herself. The very same mechanized death that rumbled in the distance as the Imperials made planetfall - the swirling bloom of life and the great Sith beasts to her back. And to her front, the promise of slaughter as the Imperials trudged through the New Brosi.

She was getting giddy now, restless. Certainly the slurry of chemicals that ran through her veins wasn't helping - it wasn't a proper battle if Lirka didn't pay a visit to her stockpiles and indulge in enough combat-stims and chemicals to kill several men. The foulness trapped beneath her armor plates thumped and pulsated at a rhythm almost the same as the heartbeat of this world - she paced back and forth. She was a monster waiting to be let loose - she hungered for the meat of champions, and to feast upon the hopes and dreams of the Imperial regime. While the troopers around here hunkered down in trench lines with blasters in arm. Lirka made no such careful ploy - instead, the chem-fueled madness of her being had the Once-Sephi's thunderous voice echoing out at no one in particular.

Lirka did enjoy a good speech. And she enjoyed hearing herself talk even more.

"Show no pity, show no mercy! Leave only ire and scorn for the men and women that would seek to desecrate our soil with their filthy footsteps! Those whose arrogance burns so brightly they think they can stop the tide of the Sith! Think they are mighty enough to halt the darkness! Heed my words, kindred. For as word from the Core comes, and darkness swells! We have entered the newest Age of the Sith, so with hate in your hearts, and blades in hand: show the slaves of order that they are a relic of an age bygone. Let Brosi be their tomb, forevermore!"

Peace was a lie, after all. There was but chaos. Always.

​

​

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Arriving at Brosi
OBJECTIVE: To be a friggin menace once more
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | The Enforcer | KRONOS
TAG: Srina Talon | Madrona A’Mia | Darth Carnifex | Revna Marr | Gerwald Lechner | T'zarna Khab | Ella Nova
ENEMY: TBD

From the bowels of the Claymore Carriers having come into the brosi system and now orbiting overhead, hundreds of drop pods barelled through the atmosphere of the planet, scorching and scarring the land with each and every impact. The whirring and blaring of gunboats and troop carriers signified the very strength of the Imperial Confederation, showing that despite their defeat before, they had not lost their desires, their hope, their Hunger.

And to invigorate the latter, none other than the Lord of Hunger, the silent shadow behind the main powers of the Imperial Confederation, the one who without question had the least to lose should the invasion fail, yet the most to gain should it succeed.

As soon as his pod had managed to burrow itself into the ground, the latches opened like flower petals, revealing that several other pods had managed to land quite close to his pod. ofcourse, these pods held the rebuilt Sceleratis' now in their full numerical strength.

His other forces were deployed under the command of his Enforcer Mr Pollux, so there would be no issues there on the larger battlefield. Yet his position, so close to New Schoengen, was surprising, as it was in fact not at all too far from where he had seen and experienced the ritual of the awakening the last time he had been here.

Reaching for his helmet, the armored monster, cloaked in an aura of dread and despair attempted to hail T'zarna Khab and Ella Nova , being quite clear and concise as his deep, hollow voice rummaged underneath the mask he wore. "Do not disappoint me, fullfil your duties...either to the Imperial Confederation...or to ME."

The Sceleratis droids formed up on him, cloaking themselves as they readied their ranged weapons, they would be setting up a perimeter, while the Lord of Hunger would lower himself, allowing the fingers within his Hand of Avaritia to caress and slide acros a wooden vein of the lush forest, the root of a tree, a part of the network of trees which would no doubt connect to the center of it all, the seed which had in such a short time, with such rapid expedience turned a dead world into a lush jungle. For a moment, his fingers would rest upon the root, feeling the pulsing strength of life, of the force within the forest. With a sudden cramping of his fingers, the metal nails of the gauntlet he wore dug deep into the roots, his mind focusing as he allowed his senses to spread not outwards, but inwards, through every root and stem he could spread them to, a hunger spreading like a virulent disease, a sensation burrowing itself through branches and leaves, through roots and trunks, through the soil and the blood within it. "Where are you...where are you, Revna...Marr."

 

[Taregh Garon]

Brosi
Equipment: Greatsaber | Inquisition's Fist | Menasor Armor
Allies: Imperials
Enemies: Sith | Gerwald Lechner​

---

As the assault on the planet Brosi commenced Dropships broke the atmosphere, Shuttles descended from cloud cover, arcs of light lit the sky as lasers fired.

Amidst the fleets that had jumped into the system were a multitude of differing craft, several of them the Stygian-Class Corvette used by the Inquisitorious.

One such Stygian-Class would brake the atmosphere at high speed and descend towards planetside. Chin mounted turbolasers opened with a barrage of firepower to clear a landing site so that the Corvette could set down, hovering in place as a loading ramp lowered from the underside of the ship.

Purgetroopers, an entire platoon numbering forty (40) in total would rush down the ramp in two lines that began to fan out in a wedge formation.

As boots hit the ground many of the Purgetroopers, carrying an armament of blaster rifles and incinerators would open up. Incinerators would vomit forth high concentration streams of fire to clear vegetation and roots on the way to the World Tree. Blaster were held in reserve to engage enemies and maintain a perimeter.

A Path was being created.

Behind the Purgetroopers an enormous figure descended the docking ramp, his armor dressed in the black matte synonymous with the Inquisition. He towered over the Troopers, a large cylinder denoting an oversized lightsaber fit into the palm of his right hand. A Helm obscured his features lending some anonymity to his identity aside from what was obvious, that he was an Inquisitor.

When the fire from the incinerators had burned a route for them to follow in all its destructive caress he would raise his left arm and signal the advance, in response the Purgetroopers marched forward while he followed.

An HUD in the Helm sought out movement its enhanced visual suite differentiating between friend and foe.

After they had all disembarked the Stygian-Class would rise into the air again, a roar of its engines propelling it forward for a single pass over the World Tree where it would fire turbolasers then angle its ascent to break through the atmosphere again for the vacuum of space.

​

 

[FN-999 (restored)]

Units: 7th Imperial Army, 24th “Dart" and 31st “Silgo" Regiments
Allies: Imperial Confederation | Ronhar Tane & co.
Enemies: Sith | Open

FN-999 couldn’t help but feel… out of the loop.
​

Unlike practically every other commander and notable figure on Brosi, the general was not a veteran of the first battle for the system nor the response to the plague that befell the world prior. During that time, he had still been integrating into the military command of the Imperial Confederation, barely two weeks out from resigning his increasingly ceremonial position of Baron of Borosk and leaving Diarchy space. He had to rely entirely on written reports and testimonies, all of which painted a picture of a uniquely intense conflict.

The first battle had been a crushing defeat for the Imperial Confederation, whose forces had been utterly routed by the Sith forces and their monstrous Sithspawn. To add insult to injury, the Sith had secured their presence on Brosi with the establishment of a World Tree, a unique form of flora that both harnessed and amplified the Force. It would undoubtedly strengthen the Sith defenders as well as their creations and the creatures under their thrall, making the Imperial objective all the more difficult.

The Imperial Seventh Army had taken moderate casualties even before making groundfall thanks to the relentless assault of dragonlike creatures that swarmed the skies. They were likely only the first of many Sithspawn the Imperials would encounter. Fortunately, most of the winged devils had been driven off by newly modernized TIE/ME Meteors or were otherwise engaged with Ronhar Tane’s forces who were simultaneously making landings on the planetary surface.

Before the first stormtroopers could safely land on Brosi’s surface, a staging area needed to be cleared. Taking up the task was a squadron of TIE/sb bombers escorted by two squads of Meteors. Each bomber was equipped with a full load of RP-3GMIM incendiary missiles, intended to level the forest in a radius extending several miles in all directions. Thanks to the efforts of their Meteor escorts, the bombers were able to unload their missiles without issue, methodically carpet bombing the forest as the squad advanced in a V formation. Only once all their missiles had been exhausted did the bombers withdraw away from the direction of the World Tree and higher into the atmosphere to evade the Sithspawn.

The missiles had their intended effect, entire groves of trees disintegrating thanks to the overwhelming heat of thermal detonation. Once the smoke and flames cleared, a large, barren clearing lay open for Imperial forces to land. The designated landing area was around twenty kilometers west of Captain Tane’s Maphoreem forces, allowing the Seventh Army to open up a second front to divide the attention of the Sith defenders.

Near the still smoldering edges of the clearing, dozens of HAATs landed, unloading thousands of Seventh Army stormtroopers. Each wore armor painted over with forest camo to better conceal their presence as they fanned out into the trees beyond the clearing’s edge. As they had been in the Mon Calamari wargames, the many thousands of individual stormtroopers were divided into eight distinct battlegroups under one central command to maximize operational flexibility in challenging environmental conditions. Unlike on Mon Calamari, each squad of stormtroopers was equipped with at least one flamethrower in order to swiftly clear small paths through the thicket and melt through lighter Sithspawn. Most of the stormtroopers on the ground carried either the standard G-2, the G-11, or the G-22, with a small number of shocktroopers carrying heavier weapons such as the G-41 or the Haltbar.

The center of the clearing was reserved for a pair of Von Strauss landing craft carrying the Seventh Army’s armored units. Out of their vast hangars emerged the 21st and 22nd Armored Divisions, equipped with TIE Crushers, AT-AAWs, AT-TLs, AT-SGs, and Imperial AAT Railguns. The Crushers took the lead, nearly fifty of them assembling in a line two deep facing the forest between them and the World Tree. After taking position, the Crushers roared forwards, reaching top speed just before crashing into the jungle ahead, trees snapping apart in their path. Behind them advanced the heavier walkers, with each of the six AT-TLs never leaving the shield coverage of the four AT-SGs.

FN-999’s plan was a fusion of his strategies in the Mon Calamari war games and his ground defense of Csilla against the Maw. The six infantry and two armored battlegroups of the Seventh Army would advance to within artillery range of the World Tree, at which point they would build entrenchments while the AT-TLs and AAT Railguns shelled the Tree from afar. That way, the Sith defenders would be forced to launch an assault on fortified Imperial positions to protect the World Tree, partially negating their home-field advantage. Along the way, the infantry battlegroups alongside the lighter elements of the armored divisions would engage Sith and Sithspawn, eliminating them or at least holding them in place long enough to allow armored artillery units to get into position.
​

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: Behind Enemy Lines, Brosi
Objective: Eliminate Sith Command Staff
Tags: Lirka Ka

A task that very few could be trusted with, the task to slay the ones commanding the defensive forces. Sith forces were heavily indoctrinated as part of standard training, zealots one and all. The idea was sound, if the commanders of The Sith were slain, their forces would be put into disarray with their force sensitive leaders gone. That wasn't even to mention the morale improvement that would come from seeing high ranking Sith slain.

"I shall prove myself on this mission my master... In your name, many of these Sith shall be put to death," T'zarna buzzed into her commlink, speaking directly to The Lord of Hunger himself.

From high in the canopy of trees, The inquisitor watched as Sith troopers readied for battle. In moments they would engage in a massive battle, two forces of different strengths. The objective of the Imperial Army was to take the section of jungle leading up a crucial hill, from there artillery would be amassed and fired into Sith positions. Their objective was irrelevant to her, as were their lives. To T'zarna, the army was one massive distraction that allowed her to infiltrate the enemy battle line.

Lirka Ka was giving a rousing speech to her troops, and it was enough to get many of the troopers ready to spill blood. T'zarna was not one for dramatics, speeches were useless compared to the raw power she could bring to bear. Her true objective was to defeat Madrona A’Mia and break the back of the defensive units. However, she figured killing Lirka would have enough knock-on effect that it was worth the gamble.

Like a shade haunting the jungle, T'zarna stalked Lirka from above, waiting for the right moment to strike. She was a coiled serpent, ready to spring forward on a hair trigger. She saw her moment as Lirka slaughtered her way to the Imperial Army's front line!

T'zarna dropped from a tree, her lightsaber ignited and fury filling her body. She didn't expect a high ranking officer of The Sith to go down easily, so she doubted it would be as simple as slicing her up. Even if the lightsaber didn't cut her in two, T'zarna would have the element of surprise. A momentary lapse in judgement, just one moment of getting cocky, that's all it would take!

It wasn't going to be as easy a fight as The Inquisitor would have hoped. Lirka was a veteran of many battles, T'zarna was a child by comparative experience. She would have to use every resource at her disposal to even have a hope at survival. This was what she'd been created for, she could not let herself fail!

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Brosi did not greet Him with banners or ceremony, only the low, hungry groan of a planet that remembered the first war and still tasted the ritual in its bedrock. The skies above churned with bruised cloud and ash, and within that bruise a slit of shadow opened as a dagger-shaped shuttle cut through the storm like a verdict. It did not burn loud; it arrived, silent, predatory, inevitable, its bloodpane glass catching no light, its hull swallowing the thunder around it. The moment its landing struts kissed the blasted soil, the wind faltered as if the world itself had taken a careful breath. Then the ramp descended, and the Shadow Hand stepped out as though he had been walking here all along.

Darth Prazutis wore war the way other men wore cloth. Qâzjiin'vraal, His armor, held the night in plates of void-black iron, edged and layered like a cathedral forged into a cuirass; Crimson runes crawled across it in slow, hateful pulses, not painted but remembered into the metal by atrocity and craft. His helm, Xûl-Karzaan, sealed His face behind a predatory mask of carved dread, glass dark as deep water, lenses that drank smoke and steam and gave nothing back. The air around Him tasted wrong, metallic and cold, as though the atmosphere had been ordered into obedience. Each step was measured, unhurried, and with each step the battlefield's noise seemed to rearrange itself: Distant gunfire became a drumline, screams became a chorus, engines became incense. Not because He commanded it with a gesture, because His very presence made the world comply. Such authority poured from His titanic visage, echoes of His presence once, Emperor, and how he'd grown beyond such constraints.

Ahead, the world tree rose like a wound that refused to close, roots knotted through streets and ruins, thick as siege bridges, pulsing with stolen Force and planetary marrow. It had turned Brosi into a choke point of thorns and hunger, a place where numbers didn't matter and courage was measured in how long you could keep breathing while the ground tried to swallow you. The Shadow Hand didn't slow to admire it; He regarded it the way an executioner regards a scaffold, useful, ugly, necessary. He lifted one gauntleted hand, rune-bitten and heavy with sorcery, and the gesture was small, almost casual…yet the nearest roots trembled as if a predator had brushed past their nerves. Where His shadow fell, the growth recoiled by inches, not fleeing, yielding, the way a throat yields to a blade.

Behind him, the Immortal Legions of the Kainate moved into place with reverent efficiency, a full Cohort of Umbral Guard stood on the periphery, disciplined shapes, the kind of soldiers who didn't need rallying speeches because they'd already decided what they were willing to become. What they'd sacrificed to live in His shadow. The Mortarch didn't shout. He didn't posture. His voice carried anyway, low and precise, a sound like a sealed door being locked from the outside. "Hold the rootways. Deny them the trunk. Let their elites come." A pause, just long enough for the order to become law to those who swore their very souls to him. "This is not a battlefield. This is an altar. And today, Brosi remembers who rules what grows from its soil. Hang their dead from the branches of the great tree. Spare none."

Darth Carnifex ​