Dominion The Serpent's Den | (SO Dominion of Empty Hex)

[Aspect of Resolve]

Fiviune​

902 ABY​

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The shroud of the Tsis’Kaar had proven impenetrable until a few days ago, the exact whereabouts of Darth Ophidia herself and her main base of operations having been obscured and seemingly unknown even to the members and agents of the Tsis’Kaar themselves. Not even fleets of probes and scout ships could find any trace of where the Pale Lady’s command center was.​

​

Finally though, the luck and secrecy of the Tsis’Kaar has run out. Through both risky hyperspace jumps and a few well-placed tracking devices, so the official reports say at least, the main base of the Tsis’Kaar forces and their leader has been discovered. Fiviune, a world tucked away and hidden from the wider Sith Order by the careful concealment of the Pale Lady, has come to light as the secret hyperspace lanes leading to it have finally been discovered by our forces. ​

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Our knowledge of Fiviune has not gone unnoticed by the Tsis’Kaar and already many of their assets and forces have moved to defend the world against our coming invasion, with their remaining fleets striking out against our patrols and stations now that we have begun massing for the assault. The Emperor himself and the Mors Mon will lead the invasion fleet to Fiviune to finally catch Darth Ophidia once and for all. This battle could prove to be either the final nail in the coffin of the Tsis’Kaar, or the last stand that drives us back from their holdings to lick our wounds.​

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Ensure victory at any cost, for the Sith Order!​

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Objective 1: The Blockade​

Sitting above Fiviune is by far the largest Tsis’Kaar fleet that has been fielded in one place. Dozens of their Shikkar-class corvettes and Arbite-class cruisers, a plethora of starfighters both manned and droid controlled, and even entire battle groups composed of ships belonging to the wider Sith Order that were either stolen or betrayed our rule alongside the Tsis’Kaar lie before us. ​

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Even the Inquisition’s fleet led by their Indomitable sits in waiting for our invasion, numerous stations and defensive arrays litter the world’s orbit and around the exits of the hyperspace lanes to provide additional fire support and have already begun peppering our fleet as we enter the system. Reports even hint that the fleet seems to be protecting something, tucked away in a nearby asteroid belt and hidden from our scanners. Something rather large but as of yet undeployed. They bring to bear a mighty naval force but it is of no matter, with the might of the Sith Order’s fleets we cannot lose. The Emperor will not permit failure this day.​

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Objective 2: The Wrath of Storms​

Even the few ships and pods that can break through the blockade to land on the surface of Fiviune can find little respite. Survivors of the ground batteries, knocking vessels of the sky will find the sorcerers of the Tsis’Kaar have not been idle in their defensive preparations. ​

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Storms conjured and maintained by both ancient relics and the Sith that command them have erupted across the planet and have dragged many landing craft into deadly crashes and brutal lightning storms. If we have any chance of taking the world then these rituals and their casters must be dealt with by the few forces that can make it to the surface in one piece.​

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Objective 3: The Fortress​

The presence of Darth Ophidia, Mistress of Assassins and leader of the Tsis’Kaar, has been confirmed on the world and her location identified. A fortified stronghold covered in defensive batteries and guarded by a legion of Sith Assassins, almost the entire reserve of Inquisition Troopers, and even some of the Marr Household Guard, is where she is making her stand against the Sith Order.​

​

The Fortress commands and organizes both the fleet in orbit as well as the defenders on the surface, making it a top priority to capture or destroy even without Darth Ophidia herself there. We have the chance to cut the head off the snake and end this once and for all.​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Open!

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"It begins." Alisteri spoke casually and yet with a grim meaning behind his words. His eyes turned to the sky as he sensed the sudden arrival of a tide in the Dark Side, a wave throughout the Force of presences alone. They had been found after all then, far quicker than he had expected them to if he was honest. He clicked his tongue and tapped on his helmet's commlink.

:"This is Darth Strosius to all Lorekeepers and sorcerers planet side. Empyrean's Sith have arrived in force and will be engaging our fleet soon. Activate your rituals and relics and unleash the power of the Dark Side across the world. To all commanders, prepare your soldiers and be ready to intercept any and all landing craft that make it to the ground. We will deny them all avenues of access. Success or Death.": His hand fell to his side as he looked back at the great fortress his master resided in, his own position sat at the most obvious landing zone before it.

The Lorekeepers and sorcerers of the Tsis'Kaar began their rituals and chanting and soon enough the once still surface of the world churned with raw power as great storms of wind and lightning formed all across Fiviune. Various relics and rituals were scattered around but there were plenty of main sites where larger rituals were taking place. Such as the one he was guarding for example.

His gaze fell to the Sith Assassins and Inquisition Troopers staring up at him as they waited for further orders. As if they needed them. "Occupy our defenses and be ready to intercept the enemy. Not a single boot crosses our line or disrupts our sorcerers this day. For the Sith!" He ignited his lightsaber as his forces prepared themselves for what was to come. And so the struggle began.

----------------

Objective: Unknown
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr

The masked man nodded to his Sith Troopers as they unloaded a large crate onto a small repulsorlift to help haul it along. They did have a long walk ahead of them after all. "Do be careful, my master awaits this artifact and damaging it is not an option." His soldiers knew this of course but Alisteri's own nerves got the better of him for once.

With the crate successfully loaded onto the lift and his troopers forming around it as an escort he turned from them and gestured for them to follow along. His steps seemed to echo in the fairly quiet halls of his master's fortress, his hand clenching and unclenching as he tried to will the tension out of his shoulders. "What's the ETA on Malum of House Marr?"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE: The Wrath of Storms
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Evor | Naedira Darcrath

The force wanted Gerwald and his team to get through the blockade, that was all there was to it. No amount of luck or skill had pushed the pilot past the barrage of ships and weaponry which were tearing through the Sith forces attempting to land. This was where Darth Ophidia had chosen to make her final stand. Gerwald had not known her too well, but her reputation was well established throughout the galaxy. Even the Confederacy had known her well. It would be a shame to see her killed, but she had chosen her fate.

Darth Empyrean needed to eliminate any threat to his rule.

His Wrath had been loosed.

Gerwald did not travel alone this time. Despite having felt broken, Naedira Darcrath had shown a strength which was unparalleled. The wolf was unsure if it was her power, anger, fear, or remnants of the Devourer which had held her for so long. Srina Talon had freed her from its dark grasp and tied Gerwald’s nature. What the brunette had become was still a mystery, but it was one Gerwald would help her unravel. The Sith Lord only knew that would not happen if they remained hidden on Jutrand.

The time had come to expose her to something that would tug at the fighter which Gerwald knew her to be. He would never forget their first mission together, and the way she had melded them for the fight. Gerwald knew what Naedira was capable of because they had shared their abilities. She already knew what it was like to fight with his abilities, but this time they were hers. He smiled. Gerwald knew this was a risk, but it was one he hoped would awaken her connection to her power once again.

His thoughts pressed against her mind.

“Remember to trust the she-wolf in battle. She will know what to do and will keep you alive. If you feel like you are losing control, let her.”

Gerwald’s eyes floated over to the newcomer. He was completely unknown to the wolf. Perhaps this would be a test, or it would end up as babysitting. Gerwald could never tell off chance meetings. It did not matter. The Sith as an order made little provision for coddling their acolytes. This one would either impress Gerwald, or he would die. It was a philosophy not wholly unfamiliar to Gerwald. His days training the warriors of Stewjon had often produced a similar ideal. During their campaign against the dark ones a fighter survived by his blade, or he did not.

Today would be no different.

His heavy boots hit the ground as the dropship moved closer to the landing zone. There would be little time for instructions, but they were simple regardless.

“No mercy. Any that stand against us today will have made their final mistake.”

Gerwald pulled the warhammer from his belt and launched it at the first combatant who dared to charge them. The sound of bones crunching under the force of the blunt weapon echoed in the valley. It was a warning for all who heard it. Empyrean’s wrath was on the field of battle, and there would be no quarter.

Running ahead to clear the landing zone, Gerwald called Ferrum Solus to his opposite hand. The sun blade ignited with a loud snap as the wolf charged his prey. Even as the storms raged around them, Gerwald feared nothing. His companions did not know it, but Gerwald had learned to combat nature itself. It had nearly killed him, but the wolf had once saved his forces by redirecting a force storm. He wished to never to experience it again, but he would do what was required of him. With Naedira on one side of him, and Evor on the other side of him, the Sith Lord wasted no time in carrying out the will of his Emperor.

All would feel Empyrean’s Wrath.

 

[Michael Hightower]

Objective: 1: The Blockade
Location: His Flagship
Tagging: Open


There was something about that moment before you jumped back to realspace when the universe seemed to hold it's breath, when the world around you seemed to pause. Even a well-trained bridge crew turned their head to stare at the screen as a quiet voice counted down.

"Reversion in 5…4…3…2…1."

Then the familiar kick, the kaleidoscope of lights on the viewscreen that seemed to pull at you, dragging at the edges of your mind before the world snapped back into focus. It was like someone had flicked a switch, the ship seemed to come alive again. All around him Michael could hear the sounds of voices rising, a well oiled machine that snapped back into action. The hum of computers and the tap of fingers on keys were a familiar sound as the planet of Fiviune filled the screen. The star destroyer's sensors reached out, soaking in all the information that they could, populating that screen with additional information. Highlighting the ships and stations in orbit, like so much wreckage orbiting the planet. Or well…wreckage to be.

The Legate too a deep breath, hands clasped together behind his back as he heard soft footsteps approaching behind him the familiar voice of his flag captain sounding softly against he background noise of the bridge.

"The fleet is checking in sir, all ships are reporting all green and awaiting orders."

There was a subtle reprimand in the captain's tone, an admonishment that Michael had spent too long staring at the view. A reprimand that he wouldn't have allowed anyone else to deliver, but the two of them had been together for long enough that certain rights were given that wouldn't have been provided to anyone else. Still, it wouldn't do to be hurried too much. Michael took another heartbeat or two to stare at the screen before he turned, ignoring the small smile on his flag captain's face before pacing back towards his chair.

"All ships, deploy fighter screen and adopt formation Alpha-3. Withdraw the lighter units behind the line and have them form into 4 wings. Ships of the line are to push all available power to their forward shields, we'll be advancing into emplaced fire to support the Emperor. They think they're ready for us, that their defences will protect them from the storm that they've brought down on themselves. But, they forgot one thing. They're used to striking fear into their enemies. They're used to striking from the shadows. But there are no shadows here. They face the might of the first Legion. And we are not afraid!"

The speech was broadcast across the fleet, a message to every soldiers from the ensign facing their first battle to the hardiest marine. An assurance that they were not alone but going into battle alongside their brothers and sisters. It was a message that was broadcast out at the ships and stations of the Tsis'Kaar fleet, a warning that despite their preparation they would be found wanting.

The legion had arrived, and their enemies would melt before their wrath.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

The Wrath of Storms​

"So this is what I died for."

A civil war, and for the side that seemed to have failed no less. Alina's smile was long gone as she walked the surface from the shuttle she had taken down. Violence extended as far as her eyes could see. Eternals and Tsis'kar locked in bloodshed. Before her death she would've likely thrown herself into the midst of this carnage if only to spite the Emperor. Now, she lingered with the Eternal forces she had joined to get planet side.

The Force shifted nearby. Danger. She spun on a heel, bringing about the Force in her grasp to catch the black clad figure that had tried to surprise her, catching them in an invisible grasp. Inquisition. Her expression soured further as she thought back to the Inqusitorious. Her hand closed, and the body before her crushed onto itself before falling to the ground. No lightsaber, no reliance on her superior strength. No warform.

She needed to learn how to use the Force properly, and battle was always the best way to practice.

"Let's see who we can find.."

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Objective 3: The Fortress
Tags: Open

The wind howled through the jagged peaks surrounding the foreboding Dark Fortress, a colossal citadel shrouded in shadows. Kentarch, The Forgotten One, stood at the foot of the fortress, his crimson lightsaber humming ominously in his grip. His black robes billowed in the wind, matching the ominous aura that surrounded him.

With unwavering determination, Kentarch's piercing yellow eyes locked onto the fortress's entrance. He knew that within those dark walls lay secrets of Ophidia and the Tsis'Kaar, and he intended to claim them for himself.

The air crackled with tension as Kentarch's red lightsaber ignited with a sizzle of malevolent energy. The scarlet blade cast an eerie glow upon his grim, scarred visage, accentuating the menace etched into his features. With a surge of dark energy, he hurled himself toward the fortress gates, his red blade cleaving through the great doors with savage precision.

There would be no clever slip-ins, no skulking in the shadows. The gates fell, the reinforced doors falling to the ground. Alarms sounded.

With a deliberate flourish, Kentarch raised his red lightsaber high, a defiant proclamation to any Tsis'Kaar who would dare challenge him. His resolve was unbreakable; he would carve his path through the fortress alone. In response to Kentarch's challenge, the rebel Sith Lords of the Tsis'Kaar materialized from the shadows, their own lightsabers casting a sinister glow as they ignited.

 

[Evor]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Equipment: [x]

Bloodshot eyes blinked open, squinting slightly as light flooded in. His mind did not linger on the little things, there were only thoughts of the battle ahead. Now was not the time for weakness, there was suffering to be wrought and he would revel in every second of it. Much like himself, those he would face today had chosen to be there. There was seemingly always a choice, whether to run or to fight. But men like him had no other option but to live and die by the blade.

Empyreans will would be enforced.

No matter the cost.​

It was an odd feeling for him to travel and fight alongside others, he had always been a lone ranger after all. But he understood the role he needed to play today. The many lessons he had learned would be put to the test, and on full display to those around him. His time in stasis had come to an end and it was time for him to rejoin the world as it had become. It is why he was put with Gerwald Lechner , he would prove himself before the Sith Lord or he would die trying and join the countless others who had failed.

Gerwald words rattled around in his brain, but he already knew that. He offered the man simply a grunt in return, taking the hilt of his saber in his hand, and making sure the blaster he kept strapped to the left side of his waist was in its proper position. He stood in the doorway of the drop ship, maybe only a step or two behind the man he had met only moments ago, waiting to unleash pain upon the poor souls below.

As the wolf leapt forward, so too did Evor. His blade ignited the second his feet left the ship, there was no time for theatrics today. He surged forward, cleaving into the cannon fodder before him without remorse. He wove from side to side, his momentum carrying him from swing to vicious swing. He did not stop to make sure each victim was truly dead, those behind him would make sure of that. It was efficient killing. He had to save his energy after all, surely there were more serious dangers lurking about. But he had no time to think about that yet.

He just had to keep moving forward and clear the LZ.


Gerwald Lechner Naedira Darcrath

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 1: The Blockade

"Imperator, the Mors Mon has entered the system." The voice of his aide-de-camp, Venerandus broke through the uneasy silence that had long since pervaded the bridge of the vessel on which they sat.

Of course, Darth Malum was the only one sitting, watching silently through the transparisteel viewports, the rest stood in silence or were running around like headless chickens for their next assignment. Flexing his fingers, in a useless attempt to fleck off the nerves that had taken hold of his entire body.

The announcement was far more procedural than it was useful. After all, none on the ship could miss the weight, the sight, of the largest starship the galaxy had ever seen.

How many other ships had witnessed this sight? How many other ships had survived?

He was willing to bet very little.

Still, the procedural announcement had a use of its own. As Malum witnessed those begin to release breaths, begin to straighten their backs, and reveal glints in their eyes. This was simply a battle, no different from battles they had all fought before. For these veterans, who had long ago survived their first, what was this? Their tenth? Their twentieth? Their hundreth? They had all witnessed death, they had all watched destruction, they had caused it themselves in their drive to survive, for victory, they had seen this all play out before.

Yet the difference was that they remained here, and so they would once again.

Malum turned towards Venerandus, his voice quiet, as reproachful as it was teasing, "Venerandus you cannot call me that... it is going to give people the wrong idea."

Venerandus turned to him, his thin and straight in utmost serious, yet his eyes bore the twinkle of playfulness, "Yet, you are the Imperator, cousin... the Alvarians call you something far better, and the Guard has recognised it."

Malum could not help but smile. It had been accidentally one of his greatest days, when Alvaria had finally been unified, when all the great men of the planet had gathered him at Gil Lodihr, and witnessed by cheering crowds, placed the crown upon his head.

An Emperor, they so declared him.

He was an Emperor of a single world, mind you, it was nothing too impressive. It was not as if he was Darth Empyrean, ruler of so many worlds, that he no doubt lost count, so many that he likely had not even seen a fraction of, let alone step on their soil. It was not as if he was Darth Carnifex, who had ruled for so long, that generations before him could not remember a time before him.

Yet it was a taste.

And it tasted so good.

Still, it was far from something to publicly announce. He was but a Knight, to claim Imperium was... a death sentence at the least. Now, it was not something which he hid, after all if an entire planet believed something, it would be entirely impossible to hide. Yet, he kept it out of his titles, he did not speak of it, none would think that he himself was so foolhardy to call himself an Emperor.

So it seemed the Guard would do it for him.

It started as a joke, he assumed. Yet then those most loyal to him, which in a Guard designed to protect him, said something, carried it on. They settled on Imperator, some foreign corruption of the word. Coincidentally shared among the leaders of the Imperial Legions. That was perhaps why they felt comfortable enough to do so at all. If ever called out, what was there to defend? They simply mistook him as an Imperator of a Legion.

It was a weak excuse, no doubt.

But a weak excuse was better than treason.

Though that mattered little considering they were actively committing treason at this present moment.

Malum gave Venerandus a feigned, sardonic glower, as he stood from the command chair... the throne, by technicality. Another reason to glower really.

But he did not, for as he stood, those upon the bridge turned to face him. On their faces, the grim determination to do what was necessary, to either gain them victory, or make the enemy burn for theirs.

The vessel's comms were activated, every ship of the Tsis'Kaar fleet would hear his words.

No pressure at all.

"We sit upon the precipice," He gazed out through the viewports, melancholic, as the vanguards of both fleets engaged each other. Fighter swarms swirling in a massive melee, looking to establish supremacy, as screening ships and capital ships came into range with their guns, "We face a foe with overwhelming strength, both in numbers, and firepower, a foe that has not faced defeat."

The faces did not change their emotion, indeed they seemed to grow grimmer.

"You would know, you fought alongside them for years, decades, even. You conquered the Outer Rim with them, fought the Rimward Trade League and Mandalorians with them, you threw out the Kainites with them." Malum stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger towards the rapidly approaching enemy, "Some of you might before this moment, considered the men on the otherside of this struggle to be your friends."

He threw his head back, and for a moment, those on the bridge might have questioned, as manic laughter filled out from his lungs, to across every ship in the fleet.

His eyes glowed in the darkness, and for a moment, they might have wondered, did they serve a monster?

"THAT WILL BE THEIR MISTAKE!" He shouted, screached with all the temperality, of a child, yet his passion, pure and unadultured, unbriddled, began to seep across every individual who heard his words, "You were not their friends, you were their confessors, you were their betrayers, everything you know, every intricate detail of their ships, your knowledge of how they fight, why they fight, will be their downfall."

"They have not faced defeat?" Malum closed his eyes, a deep chuckle erupting out of his chest, as he opened his gaze upon the enemy, pawing his hands upon the glass, as with this distance, even the greatest star destroyer, was simply a twig within his hands, able to be crushed if he simply gripped his fist, "You will teach them defeat... they think they have us caught, they think us craven cornered rats. They think the shadows were only strength, and now, appearing out in the open, we have given up our advantage."

"We will teach them their folly. While our brothers and sisters, fight across systems to join us here. We will hold, we will strike, we will win. Our anvil, shall be the grave in which the Eternalists shall charge into... only for the hammer to shatter them utterly."

He turned to his side, grabbing the replica mask of his famous forefather, and with the entire crew as witness, placing it upon his head. The signal for Venerandus to place another on his face.

Malum breathed out, the energy burned heavily within the bridge, and he felt it burning across every ship that he held command.

It was time.

"UNLEASH THE MORS VISTRA!"

Within a flash, what the Tsis'kaar had been building in secret, that the entire fleet had been solemenly guarding, revealed itself. Its cloak falling away, as within seconds, other cloaks fell away, an entire backline of Shikkars, Arbites, and other stolen craft. The serpentine craft, largest of all the Tsis'Kaar emerged, as if its hibernation concluded, and now hungered for blood.

The linked ion-plasma cannon fired, the shot echoing through the ship, from its bridge, to its infernal engines.

The fleet killer was activated.

---

Objective: Unknown

Darth Malum stepped out of his cloak, revealing himself to Ali, clutching his heart, as if having been struck. Yet there was no visible wound for anyone to see. Wearing the mask, a mere replica of the great Darth Marr's, he cut for an ominous figure, standing in regal black.

"Worry not, Ali, I would not abandon you at the very end of our enterprise." Malum spoke, his words tinged with a hidden feigned smile. His words clutched with a cough, as if Malum's own body was resisting the words.

The masked man looked towards the soldiers carrying crates, before turning back to Ali, "So this is where it all ends, is it? Quite a few colourful individiuals have landed on the planet... some not even far from here... we should be quick." He spoke still strained, yet with every word, more clear.

Darth Strosius

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I - The Blockade (for the moment)
Darth Malum of House Marr Michael Hightower

As the battle began to take shape, with the armada of the First Legion squaring off against the scrambled together flotilla of the Tsis'Karr and their unveiled monstrosity of a ship, a small group of ships hung on the edge of the system around a large destroyer. On the bridge of that destroyer, one she had commandeered for the purpose of the day, Darth Arcanix stood with a look of mild amusement on her face.

Odd, she thought, that if she had a credit for every time she assisted with dealing with a Sith Assassin base, she would have two credits. Weird that it had happened twice so far in her life, but such was the way of the galaxy and the Sith. She had yet to decide if she would go planet side to deal with the rebels or even the storms they were conjuring to batter the landing forces, but her first order of business and the sorcerers accompanying the Lady of Secrets was to experiment.

"Commodore, you may begin."

The smaller ships around her borrowed destroyer made a micro-jump into the system, two groups of six Quagmire-class minelayers that would quickly disgorge their contents before making their next scheduled micro-jump to another point in the system. These ships, however, were not deploying mines to tighten the noose of the blockade and space battle. Nothing metallic was being left behind, although certain sensors might pick up small objects of crystal and silica being left in their wake.

It had been a curiosity of hers to see if this particular creation could have offensive capabilities in addition to its original idea of being a defensive option for Sith-held systems. Today would demonstrate if it would have the ability to severely disrupt the enemy forces, and as her sorcerers and beast controllers fell into their control trances, she wondered if any of their enemies would realize where the strange purple lights were coming from, shining against the darkness into viewports and cockpits.

 

[Kadann]

Kadann had always wondered what the inside of a star destoryer's bridge looked like. White daggers in the sky had always looked so imposing. He walked across the polished black floor towards the viewscreens. He thought the white used on the bridges of alliance ships kept everything bright and airy. Here, the pits around the bridge were filled with staff focused on their individual stations. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it was a philosophical design choice. Individual tasks and hierarchy, rather than communication.

The battle in orbit meant little to him, but he could still sense the ripple of panic as the super star destroyer was revealed. His hand brushed against the long handle of his lightsaber. Whether he died here on the bridge, or to turbolaser fire in a landing craft, he supposed it would be a brief flash and then returning to the Force.

"Lord Kadann?"

"Just Kadann Lieutenant, I hold no titles."

"The landing ships are nearly ready to deploy."

Kadann didn't know if he was making the galaxy worse by continuing to turn the wheel, but he knew it would continue anyway. The eternal war. Never in balance. He knew the name Ophidia. Perhaps there would be other remnants from the One Sith down there.

His vengeance had been sated. It had broken him. He was not above indulging again, if the opportunity arose.

 

[Xeykard]

Darth Strosius | Evor Alina Tremiru Gerwald Lechner Naedira Darcrath ​

The orbital insertion was, as expected, terrible. His (meagre, compared to the vast Sith warfleet arrayed against the Tsis'Kaar) forces had managed to pressure the blockade enough for the first wave of dropships and pods to be sent in from his transports. They broke atmosphere only to be torn up through the surging storm. It reeked of sorcery. Soon his nostrils filled with smoke and blood instead.

Less than half of the gunships made it safely (a relative term) to ground, but most were disconnected from each other, soon under siege by Inquisition soldiers. They'd landed just outside of the range of the fortress's guns. The crags and outcrops they would've used for cover were instead occupied by the enemy, forcing them to fight immediately for the ground they'd landed on.

By the time they'd secured their position, Xeykard had less than a company of legionnaires and Gormak irregulars left.

It would have been safer to stay on his flagship. The orbital clash was heated, but he would not have been expected to push too hard, merely keep formation and wear the enemy down. But he needed the glory -- he needed to prove to the Dark Lord that he was trustworthy, effective. He needed victories. Stunning ones. Here would be the place.

The brief counsel of his remaining officers informed him of the key defensive emplacements ahead, one of the smaller forts ringing the greater fortress in which Darth Ophidia hid. Holding heavy turbolasers and other weaponry, if they could manage to take it, it might cut a small hole for reinforcements to be sent in for landings. More importantly, however, Xeykard could sense the sorceries anchored at the position.

Advance, or die here, forgotten and bombarded.

Xeykard moved ahead of the main column, keeping close enough to react in case of an ambush, but far enough that he could hide himself. His presence was reduced to nothing, and he flitted from shadow to shadow. Soon they reached the cleared area ahead of the bunkers and emplacements surrounding the defensive batteries. On Xeykard's command they rushed forward, a barrage of rockets and grenades suppressing the heavy lasers in their path, and smoke to obscure and protect them.

In the chaos, Xeykard lurked inside, searching for an advantage -- or a Sith sorcerer to cut down.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Objective 3: Inside the Fortress
Tags: Open

Kentarch stood at the chamber's entrance, his crimson lightsaber casting eerie shadows on the cold, stone floor. He wore a cloak that billowed ominously around him, concealing his features. His eyes, ablaze with the fiery essence of the dark side, ready to meet the guardians of the fortress. members of the Tsis'Kaar who dared rebelled against their empire.

Opposite him, three Sith Lords emerged from the shadows. One is a tall and imposing figure with a double-bladed lightsaber, likely a master of several forms of Lightsaber combat. Another, a woman with rune carved lightsaber lingered behind him, likely a sorceress of some kind. Finally a masked figure in obsidian robes, a classical Sith Assassin and follower of the so-called Pale Assassin. Kentarch took a brief moment to survey his opponents.

"Ready to die?" Kentarch asked the three Sith.

Without a word the Sith wielding the double-bladed lightsaber charged at Kentarch, his assault swift and deadly. In a blur of motion, the twin blade struck at Kentarch who matched each blow in kind. His opponent's speed was blinding, one misstep or missed deflection and he would be felled here in the entrance chamber. The Sorceress began to chant dark incantations, summoning tendrils of shadowy energy to encircle Kentarch. The Sith assassin ever the opportunist, seized his moment. He reached out with the Force and assaulted Kentarch's mind directly.

Kentarch's will was ironclad.

He repelled the assassin's mental intrusion with a surge of anger-fueled determination. As the tendrils rose around him he channeled this anger in a powerful surge, then unleashed a wave of kinetic energy that shattered the tendrils. Maintaining his focus on the Double-Bladed the two met and answered each other's strike. Each blow was precise, calculated, and relentless. However, Kentarch managed to slowly drive back his double-bladed adversary, and then the Tsis'Kaar Sith's defenses failed. In a blink of an eye, Kentarch plunged his saber into the man's heart. First, he fell to his knees, then his body fell to the stone floor lifeless.

The Sorcress growing impatient, stepped forward. Her fingers danced with dark energy as she summoned black flames to envelop Kentarch. The flames flickered and danced, threatening to consume him. Kentarch's cloak billowed as he contorted and twisted, evading the flames with acrobatic grace. Quickly in a spinning motion, he slashed at the waist of the sorceresses and cut the woman clean in half.

The Sith assassin was the last opponent. As Kentarch tried to catch his breath, the assassin unleashed a torrent of lightning from his fingertips. Bolts of Indigo lashed out, striking Kentarch with searing pain. Kentarch howled in agony, his body convulsing. But he did not fall. He used his pain and suffering and summoned the dark side of the force. Through the pain, he arched the Sith Lightning back at his opponent. The assassin's robes ignited in a blaze of blue flames. The assassin crumbled to the floor, robed and body still smoldering.

Kentarch had emerged victorious, but the battle had just begun.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAGS: OPEN

The Son of Darkness was not sure why he had come. The fall of the Tsis’kaar and the history of its leader and The Order was unknown to him. The tragic nature of the rise and fall of the favor of the dark side was sobering. In any given moment, you could be enthroned, one’s brow graced with laurels, and celebrated, then the next cast down, lost, and cut from the stone walls of Korriban’s tombs. The Dark was a fickle mistress, she enjoyed tormenting her children, forcing them to feed on each other till only the strongest soared to the heights of her nest, and then she spent her time trying to throw you out of her Eagle’s Nest.

This was the nature of the dark side. There was no rest, one had to adapt or perish. Those who remained idle, on the sidelines would fade into the fog of forgetfulness. Those who wore the crown of victory would spend their time scheming to keep it.

Anak wondered if he could ascend in the crucible of all this carnage. To make this requiem his own rising in the ranks. In truth the Son of Darkness had his doubts, the trials of being at the mercy of The Dark Mistress were taxing, and yet it is all he had. Loss had left its mark, teaching this Apprentice that nothing is lasting, joys eclipsed by sorrow, and long held bonds broken by betrayal.

The game was power, as it ever is. The key was to know which piece to back. It was an obvious move to decide to lay siege to The Fortress, to end Darth Ophedia’s reign. The real question was who would fill the Vacuum of Power? Lord Malum and his House of Marr? Lord Nwul and the Golden Covenant? Or was this scrap to be shared between Eternalists and Kainites? Someone would take the idle throne of the Tsis’kaar, that was the nature of the Sith.

The Acolyte approached the gate to the mighty fortress, batteries letting fly great beams that lit the sky, like the salute of a funeral. The Son of Darkness walked past the torrent of blaster fire, the swinging of blades rose over and around his head like the cooling fans in a ship. The combatants did not seem to notice the Hooded Figure, they were lost in their battle ecstasy.

Anak had come to see a dynasty die, to witness what The Dark Mistress would do to those who fell out of favor. He could etch his own story of glory with his blade, try to raise a horn in a loud tempest of egos and power grabs, and yet to what purpose? No, he had come to witness death, to understand the inevitable for those who failed to keep The Dark Mistress pleased, to bear witness to the coffin of the dark side…

 

[Adrienne Keres]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Companions: A pack of Devodogs and 2 Tuk'ata Hounds
Tag: Open

Turbulence.

The ride down to the surface had not been without it -- and it certainly didn't cease upon arrival. Adrienne drew a deep breath as she exited the pod with her sithspawn in tow. Adrienne's eyes shifted skyward momentarily, watching the storm rage above. The presence of sith magic and rituals was strong here.

Others had made it down to the planet as well, but, for now, Adrienne walked alone with her hounds.

For her own part, she would do her duty to the Order and assist with disrupting the rituals. Her motivations were purely selfish, however. A sorceress herself, Adrienne could not resist the opportunity for more talismans or trinkets to add to her collection. She would take any magic she could for her own.

A smile formed on her lips as her pack advanced. Her hounds were restless -- and hungry, too.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Objective 3: Inside the Fortress
Tags: Open

Footsteps echoed ominously down the halls of the fortress, a print of blood marking his path. The stone floor was littered with fallen corpses, a trail of fallen foes who met their demise at the hands of bitter opponents. The dark figure that was Kentarch advanced deeper into the fortress, his form clad in a black cloak like a shroud of death.

It was a twist of fate and irony. Kentarch was once a sworn enemy of the Sith Empire. Now he was a brutal enforcer, striking down those who dared oppose them.

The Zatitsis.

A Zabrak Sith assassin, clad in crimson robes. Sneering at the advancing Sith Lord, he lunged for Kentarch, crimson blade slashing for his chest. But the Sith Lord parried the blade effortlessly and, then drove his own lightsaber through the Zabrak's neck. As the Zabrak's body crumpled to the cold stone floor, Kentarch felt a surge of power coursing through him. Each fallen Sith added to his strength, feeding his insatiable need for revenge.

"Honourless, here I kneel." Kentarch's voice rang throughout the halls.

A group of Sith acolytes approached him, eager to prove themselves in battle. They attacked him with a ferocity born of desperation, but it was no match for Kentarch's superior skills. One by one they fell, Kentarch dispatched them with ruthless efficiency, his blade cutting through flesh and bone as if they were made of paper.

"A warning to he who our treasure, would seal."

Kentarch pressed on, he could feel the fortress itself resisting his presence as if it were a sentient being that sought to repel him. But he was undeterred. He had come to this fortress for a singular purpose—to claim something that was taken from him. Before he was called The Forgotten One.

"Nameless, here I lie."

Slowing he pressed toward the heart of the citadel. Another Sith Lord stood in Kentarch's way, a red Twi'lek. Before she could even make a strike, Kentarch unleashed a blast of dark side energy. The Twi'lek, her lightsaber shattered, and she screamed in defiance as her body was consumed by the blast, leaving only smoldering ashes in its wake. Truimpant he continued, as the ashed blew away like dust in the wind.

"He who betrays, disgraced shall die."

Bathed in the energy of the dark side, and undeterred by its defenders, Darth Kentarch pushed towards the heart of the citadel.

"Ophidia, where are you?" Kentarch whispered.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAGS: OPEN

The Acolyte entered, there he found bodies, corpses strewn with black marks hewn on their flesh in this tomb. As a shadow he passed over them, his bright moon eyes examining the dead. One was a courtier or some maiden servant, her attire was red and she laid on floor cold, her hand grasping a chalice. Leaning down to look at the gilded cup, he tried to take it from her pale fingers. What was special about this grail? It was as he tore her claws from it, that her eyes opened and rising up with a blade she cut across the Acolyte’s cheek, the edge carving a crimson scar to his lower eye, he grabbed her wrist with his mechanical hand. Her face was seething with rage as she flipping her right leg around his arm, and pivoted with the other to throw him into air on his back. Anak began to rise like a wraith when she beset him again, landing on his chest, twisting her heels together to choke The Son of Perdition. She then dug her knife downward at his neckline, the Apprentice caught the blade with his metal hand, it tore into the palm, and pressed against his gears to drive it downward, Anak overrided it and made the hand snap flinging the blade back at her, the pummel almost smacking her chin as she rolled them both.

Now Anak was on top and she used her hands to wrap around his throat, one of her fingers adorned with a a silver needle ring which she thrusted at his anterior jugular. She called forth The Mistress, The Darkness to aid her aim. The Son of Shadows conjured the Same Mistress to resist this prusuit of his demise. Strange, the darkness divided against itself, was this natural? Did his Mistress enjoy playing with them like pawns on table or perhaps toys in a cosmic crib? It was in this moment Anak decided on a course of action that caught this Assassin by suprise. The Acolyte pressed his lips against hers, he drew with an inhale and commanded the Shadow, the Tsis’kaar’s windpipe seized, she began to choke. The Son of Perdition having the line to her lungs, he pressed, drawing the breath so that she ceased scrambling to prick him and instead focused on her own need of oxygen. With a swift fluid motion, Anak then pulled back off her and released his grip on her lungs and windpipe. She gasped and began to cough, wheezing. Looking up at the pale faced Wraith, her eyes now visible.

The Acolyte did not say a word, his glowing turquoise eyes conveying to this Assassin that he was looking at the living dead, that her every move was that of prey trying to grasp on to that little bit of hope that they may survive. It was tragic, that such spirit had to be snuffed out. The Tsis Maiden felt it, as she was distracted, coils of red energy slithered around her, they dug their tips into her wrists, neck and sides. With one last effort she rose up in a well postured skip, she came to Anak, from who’s back the gnarled flows of blood trails cradled her, draining her. The Assassin grew pale, she held her hand at his fresh scarred cheek painted by her blade brush. The face of this Acolyte was not harsh, nor pleased as she was drained. He had been kind, the warmth she felt as she stumbled and he caught her in his arms was soothing. She pressed her lips to his, and closed her eyes. In a blink, in a brilliant stroke, she was gone.

Anak laid her carefully down, crossing her arms on her chest and taking her fallen knife out of his hand, he put it, handle up to her chin. The first kill, and The Son of Perdition said not a word, he rose with his hood above the fallen Assassin and proceeded further in.

 

[Darth Iraath]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Robes
Objective III: The Fortress
Tags: OPEN

Iraath emerged from lightspeed, piercing through the atmosphere of Fiviune, deftly avoiding the intense fleet battle unfolding in orbit. While not known for his tactical prowess, he was a battle-hardened warrior and a masterful pilot. Guiding his personally crafted DT-11 Freighter with finesse, he skillfully touched down on the heavily guarded landing pad of the fortress, dispatching most of the guards with ruthless efficiency. As Iraath disembarked from the bulky freighter, he made an unmistakable statement to the treacherous Sith guards and their infantry, marking his triumphant return to the galaxy. Shedding his outer robes, he revealed his formidable Sith battle armor, an imposing sight that struck fear into those who dared to oppose him. With a dramatic flourish, Iraath ignited his crimson red blade, casting an ominous glow that declared his presence loud and clear throughout the fortress.

Iraath navigated the fortress's interior unimpeded, a stark contrast to the lifeless bodies strewn about, evidence that others had breached its defenses as well. Lost in contemplation of these grim surroundings, his musings were abruptly interrupted as he came face to face with a squad of Sith Assassins. A sardonic smirk played across the lips of their leader, Dacien, who taunted the assassins with a menacing display of his blade. As the Assassin squad closed in, the moment demanded decisive action. Without hesitation, Iraath initiated his assault, hurling bolts of searing Force Lightning that threw the squad into disarray, effectively disrupting their formation. Seizing the opportunity, Iraath re-engaged, his lightsaber gleaming as it sliced through all but a few remaining foes. In a swift transition from Makashi to Juyo, Iraath confronted the squad's skilled leader, a formidable adversary. Their duel unfolded with relentless precision, the assassin leader expertly evading Iraath's advances. However, Iraath's own mastery was undeniable. With a sudden surge of power, he seized the Assassin leader in a suffocating choke hold, crushing the life from their body with a snap of their neck, ending the deadly encounter.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Xeykard

​

"Reports say that our enemies already have boots on the ground Knight Inquisitor. Our forces are engaging them as we speak." The saluting trooper's report caused a sigh from the masked man as he idly inspected his sword. "What's the point of that giant mass of ships up there if they can't access to the planet?" He'd have to admonish Malum later for letting a few landing craft slip through the blockade, even if the storms and ground fire did manage to knock many of them off course or even out of the sky. "As long as they don't breach the perimeter we should be-" "CONTACT!"

His gaze shot over to another trooper as explosions rang out from the front of the defensive position. Grenades and rockets tore through the troopers that had just been occupying the first emplacements, a fair bit of shrapnel and a couple lucky rockets preventing the second line from advancing to counter their foes for a few moments. The smoke cover and the surprise gave them plenty of time to advance, much to the masked man's frustration.

Alisteri wasted no time in drawing his lightsaber and igniting the crimson blade while he raised his sword with his other hand and shouted orders. "Hold your positions and open fire! Push them back into whatever holes they crawled out of!" Troopers from the other emplacements rushed to the smoke while the remaining ones in the area opened fire at the charging attackers.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the red blades of the assassins behind him igniting one by one but he held up his lightsaber to gesture back to where the sorcerers were huddled around their ritual circle. "Keep them alive and safe, we can hold back these interlopers. The storms cannot falter or else their whole damn armada is coming down on our heads!" With the orders given Alisteri turned back to the site of conflict and leapt into the smoke with his blades at the ready.

----------------

Objective: Unknown
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr

Alisteri raised an eyebrow as the Heir of Marr stepped out, briefly scanning him up and down before nodding in acknowledgement. And to top it all of Malum had finally adorned a mask like his predecessor. Perhaps this day would be fortunate after all. "I was concerned more about you being waylaid than myself being abandoned." It was a compliment really, even if delivered in a rather monotonous tone.

He scoffed at the remark to hurry but nonetheless agreed. "This fortress is a maze of deception and trickery. Between the traps and the legion of assassins there will be no chance of them making it in time." It wasn't those outside of the fortress that they had to be concerned about for the moment after all.

As they walked he gestured to his fellow apprentice. "Are you alright? Hit some debris on the way down from orbit? We'll need you at full strength for what's to come." He had downed gallons of crimson just to ensure that he was fully healed and restored himself after all.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAGS: Darth Iraath

The Hornet’s Nest was stirred. Guards came out brandishing their weapons to defend their keep. Anak met them with his blood blade, deflecting bolts slinging at him from an upoer level.

“Enough!”

The Son of Darkness threw his hilt in a spinning arch, the blade became a great garnet disc that cut asunder one Guard’s head, the other testing the other in half at the torso before humming and returning to Anak who caught the hilt carefully by slowing its approach. Better to be careful, he had already lost one limb to a Jedi.

The stairs stirred with a host of more Defenders, the Acolyte realized they would be too many when he heard a familiar tremor, and the sound of an old friend.

“Lord Iraath!”

The Apprentice made a tactical retreat, and just in time as where he stood was blasted to oblivion.

The Son of Shadows looked in another chamber for his Kazahn friend, when one of those Tsis’kaar leapt on him from the shadows. The Assassin dug its blade into his shoulder, the shoto tip crackkijf and the air filling the air with the smell of burnt flesh.

Anak fought crying out, his training taking control, he threw off the Tsis, and ignited his blade once more, the Assasin lunged in a somersault from a laying position.

He was fast.

Anak parried the near kill stroke, causing it to dig into his waist line and it began to go south.

“By my Mistress you will not geld me!”

Anak grabbed at his hand with his mechanical claw, he swueezed, causing fingers to snap and the Assasin to groan. The Acolyte then tossed his head into the Tsis’ skull, knocking them on their back. Anak then leapt on him and thrusted his blood saber into its chest, purposely teisting the fire energy to carve a gaping hole in his enemy which squirmed till he went still.

The Son of Darkness the fell, his right machine hand holding him up and his left insoecting his wound, ensuring that..

“Oh thank the immortal gods!”

The Acolyte stood up, his body feeling like his inner self was falling and his steps like his legs were made of custard. He alide across a wall leaving a trail of blood, he had felt better.

At last he sensed Lord Iraath’s presence, some Gaurds freshlt smoking from Force Lightning. Seeing The King of the Kazahn shadow, Anak called out, m

“My friend! Uh.. I need assistance.”

The Son of Shadows fell on one knee, his wound burned. Had the Assasin imbued irs blade? Was it some form of magick or manner of poison? Abak felt his head ring and his bones ache with a cold that was not his Dark Mistress.

“Oh.. I am in real trouble..”

He then voided black blood, his eyes surrounded in a pink rose color.

“My Mistress.. help me!”

He then saw a flash of a face adorned in torment:

“Mistress..”

 

[Darth Iraath]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Robes, Looted Medical Kit
Objective III: The Fortress
Tags: Anak Darkstar

Lord Iraath, marching towards a proposed Sith assembly point is greeted with a swarm of Tsis'kaar Assassins, after a brief moment of surprise, Iraath hastily swaps his lightsaber crystals, changing the the blade color from crimson red to a vibrant violet-purple. Guards brandishing blaster rifles also come swarming into the area, aiming their rifles at Iraath's head, as they immediately opened fire, Iraath unleashes a devastating Force Repulse that knocks back both the assassins and the armed guards, which gives him time to gain his strength to deflect the incoming barrage of blaster fire.

after a moment's hesitation, the troopers unleash a barrage of red blaster bolts, Dacien was able to deflect the bolts back into the guards, hitting them square in the head.


Lord Iraath senses a tremor in the Force, he recognized the presence of Anak Darkstar, he could tell that his presence was faint, like he was injured. He had no time to waste. After what felt like eons, Iraath propelled his lightsaber forward slicing and dicing the assassins if they were a slab of bantha meat.


As the faint presence got slightly stronger, he found Anak lying beside a maimed body of a rival Sith,


Iraath connects his helmet's comm-link to the main assault force and calmly says:

"This is Lord Iraath, contacting any nearby medical units, I have a causality in need of immediate medical attention, attaching position to this message"

Iraath reaches into his belt pocket, pulling out a bacta shot that he had looted from a med bay

"Hold on Anak, this will ease the pain"

Dacien carefully administers the bacta shot into the cauterized shoulder.

"Tap into the dark side young one, I let me share you ... my strength"