Annihilation The Shatterlight of Ka’thaa’rahn

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Kiran Arlos | OPEN

"Master Dashiell, Sir Dashiell, Mr Dashiell...." Kiran cleared his throat before continuing. "Whatever it is I'm supposed to call you." Kiran adjusted the strap at his shoulder a bit. "We are going to be rescuing people right?"

"You can just call me Makai."

Did he have time to go into the deep explanation of how Thirty-Seven called him 'Sir' because he disliked being called 'Mister Dashiell'? No. Nor was it important, even if they weren't facing the impossible. The impossible being the fact they were staring down potentially not being able to rescue people.

Trying to place the name to the teenager, Makai realized it was one of the kids from an fledgling internship program. Something he and Danger Arceneau were workshopping over the last few years. Identifying potential and giving them a chance. For Makai, a potential to find and mold potential employees into what was needed. It wasn't as if he was in a glamorous business - at least from a general perspective.

"We're going to try. Suggestions are welcome."

[[ --this is High Caan Orryx of the Ka'dyraal Caste. Any intervention will be met with lethal force. We require no salvation. Withdraw. ]]

Yet before any suggestions come in there was another warning. This time from the 'High Caan' - Makai assumed a King or religious leader of some sort. Eyebrow lofted slightly as he debated what to do next. They were mining vessels. Not fighting vessels. Yet....perhaps this was a bluff? According to their radars there were plenty of vessels in the area. Unless this Caste had firepower to rival that of the Sith Order, maybe their concern was misplaced.

Surely others were on the surface. Or had a made a break for the surface.

"Send down a shuttle piloted by two droids. If they don't get blasted out of the sky, we join them."

 

[Avel Som]

---

Avel Som had been outside the Blackwall when the news went out about the dying star, so he had been able to intercept it. It sounded quite intriguing. A ton of crystals that were important for whatever reason on a planet that was going to be destroyed anyway? Sounded like the perfect opportunity to "liberate" some of those crystal. Surely, they could be put to good use. Crystals were used in countless ways.

It wasn't difficult at all for Darkwing to zip right past the defenses and whatever Hell else was going on. He really didn't have the least bit of desire or care to find out. He was set on his target. And instead of setting the ship down and using the front door, he saved time by simply ramming into one of the giant monoliths. The ship pierced through the vaults, certainly catching some attention.

As he neared the ground level, the ship disappeared from around him, and Avel Som dropped to the floor, landing with what he hoped was spectacular style. Darkwing landed on his shoulder, having morphed back into his ebon hawk form. "Don't mind me, I'm just here for some crystals," Avel Som shouted. "I hear you have plenty up for grabs." The Ka'thaaran swarmed him, weapons already firing. "Come on, you're all going to die anyway. Oh well." He shrugged. "If you'd all like to die sooner... Darkwing, if you'll be so kind as to oblige them."

A massive bolt of red lightning chained out, leaping from one to another, frying them instantly. That would certainly give any survivors pause.

---

TAGS: OPEN​

Spoiler: GEAR

• "Homesteader" .30-30 Slugthrower Repeater
• .357 "Burro" Slugthrower Revolver
• Leather vambrace on left arm for Darkwing
• Vibroblade

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Tags | Lysander von Ascania | Bernard | Victor Lee Burukai | Darth Carnifex | Thilarii Altinova
​

In the complicated web that was Ukatian politics, Cora had always counted on Lysander to be that space where none of it mattered. She would die for any of her siblings, but the pair had been thick as thieves from a young age.

Now, things were complicated between them. She would still give her life for her brother, even as his barbed words pierced a layer just beneath her soul.

Cora sucked in a sharp breath.

"We…wanted to keep it small. Just us."

Guilt lived in her hushed tone. It lived everywhere it could, since she'd delivered the killing blow to their father.

"We didn't…I didn't want it to be a spectacle, like last time. With-"

Horace.

She didn't say his name. It was poison on her tongue. Silence reigned once again as the pair slipped into the access hall. Thilarii's signal only reached her then. Her brow crinkled at the callsign she'd been given. Explosions rumbled in the near distance. It seemed that they hadn't been the only ones to catch the distress signal.

"I copy, Able Actual. I've marked the nearest crucible chamber on the holomap, let's meet up there."

The Crucible Vaults were loud. The erratic staccato of blaster fire didn't reach them, but a rolling wave of darkness did. Something familiar prickled at the back of her mind – a few somethings, actually. Cora didn't know if it was the urgency of the evacuation, the disturbing nature of entechment, or the tension from her own brother that unsettled her.

She brushed it aside as they neared the precipice of a vault. Cora's fingers had only ghosted against the door when she paused. A chorus of agony lay beyond, a twisted web of souls that cried out in a hundred tones of discordant harmony. There was almost a rhythm to the way they began to fade. Relief and fear twined together before they faded back into the Force.

"Someone else is here," she murmured to Lysander.

The door shifted, metal groaning against itself as the chamber opened.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Lieutenant Roman Vossari
Objective 2: Echoes in Crystal Entechment
Location: The Crucible Vaults of Eshan'kai & The Grove of Echoes
TAG: Kesh Hevro | Tibera Jessen | Imperius Indomitus
GEAR: X | X | X | X | X

Roman's boots touched glass.

Ka'thaa'rahn's surface wasn't rock - it was a corpse in crystalline form. The terrain shimmered underfoot like frozen lightning, fractured and twisted from tectonic pressure and psychic bleed. He moved with the casual efficiency of someone for whom war was less of a condition and more of a default state.

His HUD lit up with Kesh Hevro's voice first. The Pyke's tone was precise, composed. Roman liked that. It sounded like a man who didn't need to posture. He acknowledged the call with a two-click comms burst - affirmative, nothing verbose. They didn't know each other, and that was fine. They'd bleed on the same ground soon enough. That was all the introduction he needed.

Then came Tibera. The mercenary's voice crackled with sharp angles and panic-polished professionalism.

He didn't respond right away. He knelt by a shallow crack in the crystal bed, fingers brushing a faint smear of blood that shouldn't have been fresh. It glowed faintly, threads of Force-energy flickering around it like dying neurons.

Someone had died badly here - and recently.

Then his voice came across the line, rough and gravel-cut.

"Ghosthand to War Dog. I see your western collapse on satellite scans. No thermal residue, no signature trails. Which means either cloaked demolition or... something worse."

A pause. He adjusted his rifle's scope, eyes scanning the spires breaking like glass bones across the horizon.

"If it's Sith, they're quiet. Too quiet. Which means they're hungry. You see anyone breathing red mist or speaking in some prophecy, shoot them twice and ask a Jedi later."

Another pause as he keyed a side channel to Kesh.

"Hellion Lead, be advised. We've got a possible multi-faction clusterfu-. Imperial dropship bearing down, and now crystal detonations near western zone. If this turns into a joint custody battle over soul-tech, I'm not here to broker galactic group therapy."

He rose to full height again, his shadow stretching across the violet glass.

"I came here for a vault. Not to referee a three-way between Force cultists, dead noble houses, and war tourists with Messiah complexes."

Then, quietly, to Fireteam Black as they regrouped by a ruptured entechment pillar, humming with unreadable data:

"Stick close. Scan every crucible for tampering. Mark and move. No salvaging unless I say."

Roman turned, gaze narrowing on the pulsing silhouette of the Eshan'kai Vault in the distance. The wind carried whispers. Not sound. Not exactly. Just knowing.

His fingers tapped a coded ping: Advance on Vault. Clean entry. Ghost rules apply.

The Confederacy wanted results. The galaxy wanted stories.

Roman was here to make sure both walked out alive. Or neither did.
​

 

[Victor Lee Burukai]

Ka'thaa'rahn, Objective 2
Allies: Darth Carnifex (Not a Jedi at least)
Enemies: Corazona von Ascania , Lysander von Ascania , Thilarii Altinova
???: Bernard

"Sir... reports indicate Sith presence," one of his men stated. "Kainite, from what our intelligence has gathered."

"Not a matter of concern," Victor insisted. "Kainites rub shoulders with the ilk of the underworld. If we do not impede their progress, we will not be effected. Our number one concern is Jedi."

The Alliance and their agents were sure to slink in and cause problems. The compassion of their kind was a weakness, one that stood in direct conflict with the battle for wealth and power that controlled the galaxy. To that end he had some level of respect for the Sith... or the Kainites at least. The Corpse Emperor was a fool to abolish slavery in his space. A being of superior strength should not hesitate to squash another to establish their dominion. Alas, the complexities of that Sith Order were none of his concern. He was simply here to reap the benefits of other's despair.

That wasn't Sith philosophy, that was just good business.

"Ah... perhaps we may have an opportunity here," he muttered to himself. "Send a scout to link up with the Kainite force. Announce your presence, and make sure to kneel. It is appropriate to kneel before a Lord after all. A future business venture with their kind may prove lucrative for the House..."

As the scout nodded and set off to the location of the incoming Kainites, Victor and his force moved into the next large chamber, where another force of Ssruuk cyborgs awaited them. They were a mix of lizard and humanoid, some likely taken less willingly than others. Regardless, all stood enhanced to protect the core of the planet at all costs, just as the ones before them had. Victor had little patience for them.

"Cut them down," the Smarteelian Zabrak snapped. "Show them the might of Songsteel."

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

OBJECTIVE 4
OPERATION KANDOR: MOUNTAIN HEIST
IN POSITION AT THAAL'QUORR MOUNTAIN

The Ambition's Reach touched down at the base of Thaal'quorr mountain under heavy fire. The Ka'thaa'rahn military fanatics had scrambled their fighters, intercepting the ragtag band of Black Sun ships. Meanwhile, ground-side defence batteries laid into the ships depositing the Ganker Limpets.

Razmir tapped at the ship console. While he worked he gave Carver a quick nudge.

"Get your gear and back Cardinal up while he works. Take the others, I'll handle things here," Raz called over the blaring music.

"You got it boss," Carver replied and hopped off the pilot's chair, disappearing down the corridor into the ship's main hold.

Raz toggled the intercom, speaking to the rest of the ship.

"I'm angling all deflectors forward. Gunners, keep up return fire. Cardinal, get that limpet out of here and into position. Shields are still in the green, so you're getting some cover, but we're sitting ducks out here. Make it quick," Razmir spoke through the ship intercom.

He followed the off-loading process over the landing cameras. Getting the thing off the ship didn't take long. Some prudent preparation by placing it on a hover-platform took care of that, but the actual setup took longer. They needed precise positioning, and Raz had to steadily guide the limpet-team's placement of the device, all-the-while working the ship's systems to avoid being blown away by enemy fire. Finally, the limpet looked like it was set in the correct position.

Raz hit the long-distance comms, tapping into the Black Sun channel.

"This is Delivery Bird Ambition's Reach, Ganker Limpet in position. Sound off, scoundrels, how's it looking out there?"

As he waited for responses, he tapped into the beckon calls of the other ships, counting most of them still in one piece and landed around the mountain. Blasted autopilot+ upgrade packages were worth the extra credits after all.

Jerec Asyr Kinley Pryse K4-ZAN Zayah Bane Parvati

 

[Parvati]

The ship's cannons howled, and Parvati smiled.

She was already locked into the gunner's chair when the Ambition's Reach pierced the atmosphere of Ka'thaa'rahn. Her fingers danced over the fire controls with casual grace, unleashing bursts of precise fire into the chaos below. Turrets, sensor towers, anything that even looked like a threat to the landing vessels, gone in flashes of plasma.

Parvati didn't bark orders. She didn't shout in excitement or curse as she worked. She simply exhaled as the turbolasers boomed, her expression unreadable, half hunter, half artist.

The mountain rose ahead like a black tooth, defiant, half-shrouded in flame and defense fire. Her eyes narrowed. If they were going to steal it, she'd make damn sure it wasn't defended when they did.

The moment the ship touched down, her job doubled. The limpet teams needed cover. The others needed a shield. She adjusted her aim and carved out space for their allies in the sky, keeping a watchful eye on the sensor readouts. Fire lit the skies, a thousand threats dancing through atmosphere and flak. The battlefield was a mural of ruin, and she was painting in strokes of fire.

All the while, the ship's blaring soundtrack surged behind her like a fever dream. Not her style...too loud, too garish, but the timing? Impeccable.

She let the next shot rip through a defensive emplacement and cracked a faint smirk.

"Theatrics," she mused aloud, "but damn if I don't enjoy the spotlight."

This chaos? This impossible, mad operation?

It almost made her miss being Black Sun.

Almost.

But she wasn't anyone's girl anymore. Not really.

Zayah Bane K4-ZAN Kinley Pryse Jerec Asyr Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Annis Riyaré]

OBJECTIVE 1 - POLITICAL NEGOTIATIONS

Annis Riyaré, Countess of Lopenthé, Senator of Naboo

Location: KALLISTOS
Gear: Voidstone bracelet
Tag: Sibylla Abrantes Aether Verd Kalantha Aurelian Veruna Aiden Porte

Spoiler: wearing

The decision had been made by the queen and she had made her proclamation. Deep down she lamented the use of emergency powers but on the surface she would proudly smile and nod to the queen, raising her hand in an agreeing gesture. But there was more, people had obvious concerns and to ignore them would be entirely irrational. After the Mand'alor Verd took his cue enacted the contract she would adress Aurelian Veruna concerns as he appeared to throw down the gauntlet for those who wished to act to justify their actions.

"Honorable member from Parrlay, you are right to raise your concerns, we are, after all a chamber for discussion. But might I add to your points. What happened at Dee'ja Peak is tragic and an unforgivable act of violence. But the Mandalorians are a fractured and divided society, we would not have entertained these particular mandalorians if we believed them to be a threat or if we had reasons to believe they were involved in the assault you speak of.

Additionally you still describe the people of Ka'thaa'rahn as not wishing to be saved. If that was they case... why have they requested our assistance?" she gave a little look of mock confusion with her eyes.

"You accuse the Queen of favouring convenience over nuance? Perhaps you might look inward at how you conveniently determine the motives of all Mandalorians, and all Ka'thaa'rahn."

She nodded respectfully and then adressed the rest of the room more broadly.

"While I disagree with his point, Representative Verun has spoken bravely as the dissenting alternative opinion on the matter. Naboo will act, that matter has been decided my our monarch and I believe that in this regards we should support her. Rest assured though, the people of that world will not be given amnesty to move their archaic technological culture into ours. We shall respect their history, but it shall be confined to memory and museum like their world. But first we must respect their right to life."

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Around every street, more resistance...

Nathan ripped into the military that fired at him with his GWE-005.

Triple Barrels spat out explosive bullets that tore apart fanatics trying to gun down fleeing civilians.

There was no telling how long he had before the sun went critical. It could be minutes, hours. The Crisis Nuetralizers were clearing out the area directly underneath the battle cruiser so it could land fully, whether that meant evacuating civilians underneath or killing stubborn Ka'dyraal Soldiers it meant little to him so long as it was done.

They had cleared out the the cargo hold, and had the ship working on a skeleton crew to pull this off. There were no storm troopers. All the other ships were similarly operating on skeleton crews and no cargo, all to evacuate as many as possible. On the advice of the crisis Nuetralizers, he ordered his crew to stun everyone who was brought aboard into unconsciousness without pause or prejudice. Everyone was getting knocked out to avoid the chance of even one of them being a conscious saboteur. There was simply no time to sort who from who.

His gun finally ran dry and out came his lightsaber, a dark blue blade to the core but with a white aura. In disguise, Nathan was forced to alter his entire fighting style to avoid potential identification from allied forces, particularly Jedi.

Even now, he wasn't taking risks. Even though it wasn't likely he would run into Jedi in all this chaos.

He switched to the Medium Style taught to him by Jax Thio years ago as he engaged another death squad chasing after their own people.

If Nathan could be said to feel an emotion, any emotion, it was contempt towards the Ka'dyraal. But not for the obvious reasons.

The Ka'dyraal reminded him, in a very indirect way, of the mistakes he had made.

Time and again he wondered what would have happened had he accepted Elaine's offer of protection from the Kaiserreich. But he had hated Elaine too much for killing his parents.

He would often try to tell himself that it would not have worked. That the Cult, that Darth Phyre would have gotten to him anyway. He often told himself Elaine would have wasted no time corrupting his daughter into the Kaiserreich's warped view of the Light Side, bred a fanatic just like herself.

Yet would that have been any more terrible or terrifying than the current fate of Laertia Io ? Or would have been more terrible for the blow to his pride, more terrifying for him to let the old grudge drop?

He truly no longer knew. All he knew was that he had woken up to a world shaped partly by his old choices.

He questioned sometimes why he had betrayed Elaine to the Cult. Was it simply to avenge the deaths of his family as he had told himself at the time? Or was it to prevent himself from having second thoughts about not taking her offer. Would she have even extended the offer again, given his parting words to her when she had still been human?

Nathan cut into another group in the Medium Style, slicing through their weapons and armor effortlessly. Any other time, any other planet that didn't have a star set to explode, he would have spared them. But there was just no time...

At least they would die quickly. He had tried to make it quick, even with the explosive ammo. He could hear the battle cruiser fire in atmosphere with various thunderous booms from its main guns at the Ka'dyraal Warships, frantically attacking it and his landing force. But the Ashes of Mustafar remained defiant from the barrage, more than able to resist the somewhat powerful impacts on its shields. With each boom, a Ka'dyraal ship exploded to dust above them, its point defense cannons strafing the ground wherever hostile forces were detected.

As he sliced through another soldier he spotted someone in an alley who shouldn't be there. Who couldn't possibly be there.

It was his long dead wife, Lysandra. She was leaning against a ruined building, arms folded.

"I'm cracking...I must be cracking. It's the situation..." he told himself audibly, turning away from what he knew deep down was nothing but a stress-induced hallucination. Lysandra was completely dead and wasn't coming back. There was nothing left of her in the Force.

He ran across a pack of fleeing civilians.

"GET TO THE GALLEONS! THE GALLEONS!" he yelled pointing to the ships. He felt bad that they would be stunned without exception once they were aboard, but it was either that or risk some lunatic with a surprise. He had enough for 65,000 to get aboard on the Battlecruiser itself. Spells he ordered the Witches in his employ to place in the hangars would put evacuees in a compliant daze to be stunned once they were aboard.

The smaller ships and his acclamators came under heavy Starfighter assault. The Ka'dyraal were becoming more aggressive....

Nathan grabbed a rocket launcher from a fallen soldier and shot a passing Ka'dyraal fighter down.

The Battleship and the Acclamators opened fire with point defenses on the starfighters, some becoming so desperate as to try and crash their starfighters into the bridge only to be shot down by his aces running defense in both old school TIE Avengers as well as aftermarket Z-95's.

Nathan stretched out his hand and teleported two enemy starfighters, altering their flight position so they would crash into their own squadron when they re-appeared.

Nathan than steeled himself and went hunting for more enemy forces...

Vemric Keldra

Aether Verd

Bastila Sal-Soren

Aiden Porte

Niysha

Sibylla Abrantes

Kalantha

Voli Cholrass

Ailmar Dawnstone

Jonyna Si

Mr. Usher

Darth Carnifex

Kasir Dorran

 

[Zayah Bane]

​

O P E R A T I O N . K A N D O R

| Location | Thaal'Quorr, Ka'thaa'rahn​

| Objective | [OBJ 4] Chaos Reigns​

​

Zayah stepped down the ramp as the last of the crew had disembarked, the sound of her boots against metal thunking as she took a look around. So far their arrival had gone unnoticed, and she would much rather it stayed that way. ​

​

She let out a sharp, distinct whistle; one of her own crew, a short-statured Ardennian, immediately turned to look at her as she raised her index finger up and twirled it in a circular motion. The Ardennian nodded as two of its upper arms reached over his shoulders to grab what looked like a disc off his back while the lower two pulled up a remote with a display. A few taps on the remote and the disc expanded, revealing several optics positioned equidistant from one another along the circumference, followed by a series of chirps and warbles as the droid took off into the air to provide surveillance and warn the crew of any incoming troubles.​

​

The rest of Zayah's crew moved to take up positions around the landing site, setting up a perimeter as Zayah did her best to tune out and ignore the earful she was getting over the comms channel, filtering it out to get an audible read on important chatter. The other criminals and techs were busy positioning and setting up the Ganker Limpet as Zayah hovered over the shoulder of the Ardennian to observe the aerial droid's view of the surrounding area. ​

​

A burst crackled to life over the comms as Zayah tuned in briefly - a status update from one of the other teams before she promptly updated the others of her own. ​

​

"Limpet Two is in position. All quiet here."​

Jerec Asyr | Razmir Tezhyn | Kinley Pryse | K4-ZAN | Parvati​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Soah Ty’Jyn | Naamino Zuukamano

Roman Vossari Nathan Bloodscrawl Imperius Indomitus Brandyn Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren Tibera Jessen Kesh Hevro Kroeger ​

For a time, he was rooted, a stoic sentinel in observation. Everything here was his to command; he did not need a grand display to assert control.

Kasir's gaze slithered to the Felacatian first, tainted by the tension that always coiled between them, always poised to strike at his very ears. Pale digits twitched at his side, a wordless change passing between them--one both of them had seen too many times before. Still, he allowed it, her razor-sharp edge lingering in the air like a foul stench. In the end, such was insignificant, so long as it didn't prove a distraction once they engaged the foe. For all that mattered then was the blood staining their hands and the thrill of the hunt.

In that small space between them, it too was a dare--to test the veil of his patience, to push him to the brink of violence.

The Sangnir's mind unfurled like a web, capable of ensnaring thoughts of many within its cruel grasp. An umbral tendril of the Force reached out to Soah, a tether between two entities, so that his murmurs would echo through the corridors of her consciousness.

This was no invitation. It was a claim.

A venom she could not purge.

At least not yet.

<<The crystals. Amplify their bleed. Make everyone hear their fallen, so that the Jedi will respond to the call, lest we reveal their true obsession with suffering.>>

The fractured ground stirred beneath his boots, a haunting echo of the Sith Order's reign over Woostri. But to Kasir, it was more than just a reminder of the past--it was now a call to action, a twisted taste of nostalgia, a reminder of when the dark mother, Srina Talon , both protector and destroyer, wielded the planet’s fault lines like sharp steel.

His lithe frame then shifted, searching, before finally settling upon the aggressive Zabrak. It was clear the acolyte's strikes were efficient against the cowardly Ka'thaa'ran warriors; indeed, they were fools who believed they could outrun death. Whether reckless, or part of a certain strategy, it was no concern of the Darkseeker. Strength, or wasted energy, it mattered little--for this was also a test.

He would merely adapt.

There were, however, some that desired to dwell in the fray; and so, a hand like marble, unfeeling, drifted towards his belt. But it was not the saberstaff he sought. Instead, he took hold of the ceremonial dagger, its wickedness promising to satiate his thirst. To the weak mortal eye, it would surely only catch the blur of his movements, quickly closing in on a human with a weapon raised midair. As if a phantom birthed from shadows, he suddenly appeared, an iron grip wrapping around their throat possessively, followed by the familiar metallic tang of his sustenance filling the air as the blade cleaved through flesh and bone alike. It was a dangerous game to provoke his kind, but one that always brought him pleasure.

A flick of the wrist followed, the limp body tossed aside, now but a plaything for scavengers on Ka'thaa'rahn.

Naamino would then feel his stare. “Hold your ground. I will reveal the false safe-zones for you to feed upon. They will believe themselves to see a battlefield. Make them understand, then send them to the abyss.” The Sith's tone carried no urgency, instead only edged with chill, a reflection of the ice that coursed through his veins.

His presence through the currents of the Force would soon be easy to detect.

There was no need to conceal his true intent.

An area near the Vaults, already vulnerable, became Kasir's sole focus. It was the foundation just above fault lines which were whispering for mercy. The Darkseeker let the full depth of his power bore down, making the ground nearby tremble, while sending rippling tremors in every direction. Using Force Crush was no easy feat, even for him, as it truly tested his limits. This was only the beginning. His energy pulsed wildly, causing the ruptures to spread.

 

[Thilarii Altinova]

Ka'thaa'rahn, Objective 2

Ka'thaa'rahn – The Crucible Vaults- Able Platoon

Allies!: Lysander von Ascania + Corazona von Ascania
Hostiles!: Victor Lee Burukai + Darth Carnifex
Wildcard!: Bernard

Those within Vaults, feel free to interact with the droids stalkers! (You're being watched!)

​

The captain and his men descended further into the catacomb long before the response came through from Corazona and her half of the party. With blasters locked and loaded, they navigated those catacombs like the well oiled machine they were, Five squads of four commandos each bonding through the corridors of the tomb in deadly efficiency. One squad would take the lead, holding a position while the others catapulted up, securing the way and their rear at the same time.

Each and every action drilled and instinctive, sharing every last ounce of information amongst themselves over comms and the uplink system built into their suits, Micro-Cam Droids and GARD-14 Ravens sent in every which way throughout the catacombs sweeping for any and all information to be gleaned . Their suits were heavy, but with Repulsor Boots and the Exoskeleton of their armor, all twenty of those commandos moved with near unnatural speed and agility, closing upon their rally point with the duo of jedi in a haste.

However, temporarily the commandos found themselves held up by a jammed door which blocked their path. While Each of the squads took a defensive permitter around the door, the engineering sergeants from each squad got to work in cracking the jammed lock. Stuck and with time to spare, Anaconda began cycling through the information gleaned by their probes, passing around what they could. Thilarii and Aurlyn in particular began relaying what information he could over the holo back to Cora and Lysander.

"Book, we've been caught up, but we're not alone out here. Unknown contacts near the rally point, still getting a clear picture. What in the world is this place?"

That was the one thing Thilarii couldn't peace together, and no amount of digging through archives seemed to help put a thumb to it. Sure, some vast catacombs and a dead before dishonor type of society, but the question still lingered in the back of his mind. Something didn't feel right about this, hollowed screams left unheard yet unnerving all the same as they remained idle.

Amongst themselves the commandos pondered the nature of their new home, knowing only the risk of staying long past their welcome.

"Alt, we're nearly through. This is one thick door though." spoke one Elizabeth McKenna, Mamba's engineering sergeant.

"Copy, let's not keep our friends waiting."

Every second past another tick on a bomb ready to blow. Truly that fact alone unnerved the captain and his crew more than anything else. But, they wouldn't have to wait terribly long as the four engineers cracked the door wide open soon after their arrival. Hardly quite neither, which a horrible slam of rock and stone sending shockwaves throughout the catacombs nearby.

And just like that, announced to the world, were the commandos mobile once more, bounding towards the rally point at break neck speed through drone guided pathing.

"We're back up and moving, be there soon, Book."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

There was no wind now. No birds. No distant hum of fauna. Only the endless static tension of air that hadn’t decided if it should scream or stay silent.

Brandyn pressed forward through the fractured slope, each footfall echoing longer than the last. The vault loomed ahead—carved deep into crystalline cliffs that shimmered with ghostlight. The glow pulsed faintly, irregular, as if syncing with the breath of something dreaming beneath.

A whisper. Or a thousand. But no sound.

He glanced back. Jhoren Vel was moving slower now. The Zeltron hybrid's face had paled, his eyes scanning the crystal ridges as if they might blink. One hand fidgeted constantly with the strap of his pack. The gesture had become near compulsive.

"You ever get the feeling we weren’t meant to be here?"

Brandyn didn’t answer immediately. He slowed his pace to let Jhoren catch up, boots crunching over shimmering shale that cracked like glass underfoot.

"I think... we were meant to be here exactly because it feels like we shouldn’t be." His voice was low, cautious. He kept his eyes forward, though a chill traced his spine with every breath. "The Council made their call. Save what we can. Try to understand it."

"They should’ve respected the Ka'thaaran rites. Let this place die with its people." Jhoren shifted the weight of his pack again, too quickly, too forcefully. Brandyn caught the motion and held a breath. Offered a hand.

"Here, let me—"

"No." Sharp. Too sharp. Jhoren adjusted his grip and stepped away, eyes flicking toward the Vault again. "I’ve got it."

Brandyn didn’t press. But something tightened in his chest as they walked.

The terrain narrowed. Up ahead, the air shimmered with unnatural heat, and the columns around them began to resonate—a barely audible hum that seemed to vibrate just behind the ears. The air was getting denser. The light wrong. The silence somehow... full.

He felt Bastila's presence at the edge of the path like a radiant, but shifting, stream of light and determination. Still it was calm contrast to the place’s living dread.

"Of course you didn’t stay put," he said, not unkindly, glancing over his shoulder as she arrived. His voice betrayed the relief he wouldn’t admit to. "What did you feel?"

Jhoren offered her a nod, but it lacked warmth. He pulled his pack tighter and muttered just loud enough— "This place isn’t waiting to be understood. It’s waiting to be ended."

The Vault pulsed again behind them. Like a warning. Or a heartbeat.

Brandyn eyed Jhoren, now with suspicion. He cast a glance back at Bastila, conveying a wordless concern. Though given her statement, he wondered if he had an ally with her in this matter. "We do the will of the Council," Brandyn said. Though his words felt forced, unnatural coming from someone with a long history of taking matters into his own hands.

The ground began to move in an unnatural quake. Brandyn's hands instinctively reached out of his sister, and then for a rocky outcropping, attempting to anchor them to the wall. Jhoren's eyes flared open. "SITH ARE HERE. WE CANNOT LET THE VAULT FALL TO THEM."

Brandyn could see it in his eyes. the same panic and fear that felt as though it clawed at the corners of Brandyn's own eyes. He fought it back with thoughts of home, the light of the Shore and the good that he felt within. Despite his attempts, the darkness seemed to loom larger. "Bastila! There is something vile at play. Do not let it take hold. Jhoren...give me the bag!" Dread had filled his heart, not the dread of this place or any Sith abilities that were applied, but the dread of what one of his own fellow Shirayans had come here prepared to do.

| TAG: Bastila Sal-Soren Kasir Dorran Naamino Zuukamano Roman Vossari Imperius Indomitus Tibera Jessen Kesh Hevro Kroeger Soah Ty’Jyn |



​

 

[Kiran Arlos]

"You can just call me Makai."

"Sounds good to me, Makai." Kiran nodded as he stood with his hands placed together and it would seem that he was about to start pacing again. Yet, Makai giving the word that they would do some saving that was a good enough for Kiran. Not that his own moral's really mattered here, still. What was right was....well right. Too him the lives of the innocents mattered. No matter how stubborn they were being.

But there were much more to do here than just that.

"Send down a shuttle piloted by two droids. If they don't get blasted out of the sky, we join them."

"That's smart, if they happen to get by, that just means there isn't as much orbital activity, at least of the aggressive nature." Kiran glanced over to Makai.

"Right?" While he appreciated the opportunity here, the prospect of dying on the way down to the surface wasn't in his cards.

Makai Dashiell

 

[Kroeger]

D E M O N
IRON LEGION
'THOSE ONCE LOYAL'
BESH COMPANY 'BREAKNECK' | 2-34 ARMORED REGIMENT 'DREADNOUGHT'
ILV 'Long Night of Solace' Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer

SONS OF THE EMPIRE | Imperius Indomitus
CONFEDERATES | Kesh Hevro | Tibera Jessen | Roman Vossari
SITH | Kasir Dorran

IF I HAD A HEART
​

Kroeger learned his head against the brow pad of his track commander's sight, closing his half-organic, half-cybernetic gaze before he leaned back into the seat, a hand grasping for the control yoke of the independent commander's view, sifting the infrared camera in a pattern which focused in a conal right side of the vehicle, with the gunner largely keeping his field of view to the left side as the repulsor lift tank's sensors painted all unknown entities with a bright white glow, helping them to stick out from the cobalt outlines of friendly elements.

It was nigh unnervingly quiet. Save for the radio chatter, the hum of repulsor lifts and the crunch of duraplast boots unto scarred earth. The emergence of CIS droppods into the atmosphere caused a stir to which Kroeger had to set the grounds for engagement concerning them. <"Copy, Confederate militants on ground. Do not engage without prior approval. All those that get an eye on any approaching Confeds, send a track through the battle tracker.

It wasn't too much longer into the movement that Ka'thaa'rahn was stirred awake to the arrival of Imperials. Crude slug thrower rounds began to thump into the thick compounded durasteel alloyed hulls of the advancing Imperial hulks. A sensor aboard one of the Cataphracts snapped the turret into the direction of a blaster rounds impact as a savage tongue began to emerge from the bioluminscent jungle all around them. A harsh crack of the Cataphract's mass driver sent a flurry fire and smoke into the impact zone, the resulting crackling flames and blast revealing some of the savage natives who began to envelop the movement and close the distance.

<"All Dread elements this is Demon, get me column to line with first section red focused front and second section black focused rear. Execute."> Kroeger commanded to which the various Barran IFVs and Cataphracht MBT's splintered from their staggered column, facing their hulls left and right of the formation respectively to present the front armor of the vehicles to the enemy. The harsh vanta-white silhouettes of the targets saturated the treeline around them. Two dismount section launched flares into the dark air, the streak of bright illumination alight over the canopy of the jungle, drawing harsh shadows of the battle space as the Iron Legionnaires responded in swift action.

The area sifting past the immediate vicinity of the treeline enveloping the armored formation was lit up by the supporting gunships who split off to cover each flank. Rapid fire laser cannons ripped into various targets that sprinted between cover or perched up around felled trees, rocks and foliage to take pot shots at the stormtroopers and vehicles.

If anything could be said of Kroeger, he was not a man who cared for subtly. In the confines of war he believed in one sacred truth. Violence of action would prevail unanimously, even in the most grim conditions on the battlefield. A bad plan executed violently was often better employed than a meticulously prepared operation implemented cautiously.

The vehicles all moved with well practiced burm drill maneuvers, acquiring targets utilizing optics and sensors before slamming the thrusts to rise up from the indent of the path they traveled to a turret defilade where they would rake through the marauding natives with a violent crack of tibanna and mass driver rounds only to reverse back down in equal swiftness to shirk any immediate retalitory fire. Each section alternated, one going over the top just as the other crept back, making a ceaseless, brutalistic wave of devestation surrounding the formation.

Above the hail of gunfire, there was little mind headed to the ruptures that began to embroil around the creeping vicinity of the Sith Assassin, hardly noticeable to the adrenaline addled troopers on the ground rattled by the innate human response to such violence in their brain chemistry in tandem with the cocktail of combat stimulants injected into them prior to landfall.

It wasn't too long before the natives broke contact, the Imperials creeping after them with heavy laser cannons, blaster bolts and explosives volleying after them.

<"Back in formation. Execute."> Kroeger ordered to which the vehicles along with their compliment of dismounted stormtroopers began to fall back in staggered column, the stormtroopers still taking good habit to bound forward, cover to cover by team as the vehicles reversed back with a steady swivel and scan of their stabilized turrets before they were back on-line.

<"Platoon leaders, get me 'slants' on all sections, vehicles and dismounts. Any wounded, get them out. If we lost anyone, strip the gear and leave 'em. We're on a time table to meet."> Kroeger commanded in callous fashion. Though, the stormtroopers did well in executing. Among the few corpses strewn in the bioluminescent blood bathed and shrapnel scarred jungle around them, anything of use was foraged. Blasters, ammo packs, armor plates. Nothing left to the other scavs who might try and join in reaping the fruits of this dying world.

<"Valoris...I say again, this is Demon. I have begun movement to objective area 'Krennic'. Breakneck company with Demon element located in vicinity of 'Dorn-Osk, 3-7-2, 5-6-6. Report status."> He said, despite the lateral authority of the two autonomous actors, he spoke as if it was a command, with a tinge of impatience dogging his voice. He was still in throes of combat adrenaline after all. A feeling which surpassed none other.

In the silence following the exchange, the ripples and thrumming of the earth beneath them could be felt. Thumbing through his command panel, he pinged a request from the Long Night of Solace to send a recon probe in order to gather meteorological data. And if it didn't originate from the dying world itself, to follow the thread to its source.

 

[Kesh Hevro]

SHATTERLIGHT
Wayward Son - Chapter 1
———
GEAR: Customized Type 76 Covert Armour | Type 73 Compact Pistol | Type 74 Assault Rifle
CIS: Roman Vossari | Tibera Jessen
NABOO: Bastila Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren
IMPERIALS: Imperius Indomitus | Kroeger
SITH: Kasir Dorran | Naamino Zuukamano | Soah Ty’Jyn

RUMBLE​

KA’THAA’RAHN

The decaying land soon turned into a convoluted battleground; Jedi, Sith, Imperials making their way in and their demands clear. Ancient grudges could be sensed in the air, something the CIS mission has no interest in whatsoever. There’s simply too much in line; survival, sovereignty, power projection, the upper-hand in technological arms-race, and credits. Heaps of credits that will be waiting once they secure what they came for and make it back home safely.

The small, elite squad made it all the way to the Eshan’kai Vault, traversing the dead land and dead bodies of zealots marked by plasma burns. They just make it in time, the sound of the Imperial war machine marching was closing down every single second, and the Jedi and the Sith had started noticing one another’s presence.

<Ghosthand this is Hellions Lead, Imperial forces are heading towards the vault, approximated on the hundreds. We’ll be behind you entering the vault, if there’s a risk of engagement, let’s force it in our terms; close-quarter at a chokepoint.>

Kesh looked over at his squad, while possibly more well-trained and well-equipped, is much smaller in size. If they are to survive this planet with what they came for in hand, it has to be through tactical superiority and bunch of explosives.

<War Dog, I trust you have the sense to pick the fight you can win, and let others with eternal grudges does their job for you. Godspeed.>

Kesh turns his gaze back at the vault, leading Hellions Commando to enter the vault behind Fireteam Black. They have a task to fulfil; for the credits, for the Confederacy.​

 

[Imperius Indomitus]

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

The Iron March - OPERATION WRAITH SEED
Order. Strength. Discipline.

Kroeger
Kesh Hevro | Tibera Jessen | Roman Vossari
Kasir Dorran

Task Force Wraith
Imperator Rex | Sword of Bastion | Solar Trident | Black Talon | Firehawk
181st Stormtrooper Legion "Dragonguard"

WRAITH SEED​

Ghral'teth System | Ka'thaa'rahn | Landing Zone Aurek

The gunships of the Empire descended upon the surface of the doomed planet. A hole had been blown through the blockade of prying genocidal natives by their TIE screens, their characteristic shrieking now echoing across the battlefield to come. The low thudding engines of the heavy imperial landers roared as they capped the tops of trees and swiftly lowered the Stormtroopers of the 181st along their Iron Legion brothers in arms. Their armors, pristine in condition, were painted with black and red stripes and checkerboard patterns, their herarldry, with swords and dragonheads.

"Valoris for Demon, catching up with you as we speak. Transmitting codes and clearances for available CAS and emergency exfil. Firehawk landing ship incoming, we have to clear a landing area for it. Cargo shuttles on standby to start transporting the crystal off world, code Seed Thesh. Valoris out."

He spoke while walking from the already ascending gunship that would provide close air support for their operation if necessary. His heavy sabatons crushing any bit of jungle flora beneath without care, its luminescent beauty lost, not only to him but soon to the Galaxy. In front of him was the column of armor that Kroeger commanded, the 181st having landed all around it whereever possible, drawing a protective circle around the heavy hitting tanks. His landing zone, Aurek, was ahead of the main column, Besh and Cresh at the flanks and Dorn at the rear.

The Warmaster viewed the progress through his HUD, how the imperial signal runes started popping up, all in green on the grey-silver display, their status active but not yet engaged which quickly changed as the natives reacted to their presence with hostility. He did not exactly care who they were or what, but they attacked his soldiers and were standing in the way of Order. Runes turned from green to orange. Engaging.

"Objectives Krennic and Wraith entrances are half a klick ahead, bearing 019. Wyverns take point with the Iron Legion. Armageddon clear a landing area, maximum aggression, remove all obstacles for Firehawk to land and Blades to disembark."

They would enter both the forges and vaults to reap both the product as well as the produce and potential data. It was vital to the program he envisioned. Liin "Tera" Terallo and her idea could not have fathomed the trajectory and impact it would have on the Galaxy and yet she would see soon enough.

Imperius marched alongside the advanced Stormtroopers, his panoply of war a stark contrast to theirs, almost flamboyant in comparison. His left hand held Valoris, the blade which's name he adopted as new call-sign and in the right was his heavy blaster. It was still an unusual thought to have switched primary dexterity and loose a finger on each hand - but judging by the record, he was doing well so far.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The scalding plasmatic blade slipped between their ribs with the scorching squeal of vaporized meat, the scavenger only managing a weak cry of pain before darkness swam up to engulf their world. Falling back, their body awkwardly came to rest over another of their crew. Their murderer crouched above them, one of the sullen assassins that had descended the stars with the Eternal Father. Their forked tongue snaked out from behind their lipless maw, tasting the death and horror that so heavily perfumed the air.

During their trek through the crystal forest, the slavish followers of the Eternal Father had crossed paths with dozens who had come to this world for the same reason. They'd all suffered the same fate, set upon by the tuk'ata in their midst. None had proven a true challenge, maggots who flooded to a corpse for such meager ambitions. It was the tastier morsels that they truly hungered for, the ravenous wolves already closing in for the kill.

Raising His right hand, the Eternal Father cracked the ground beneath His feet. It tumbled away into the empty corridor below, plumes of dust rising up from the disturbance. By twos and threes the Kabalists dropped into the space below, fanning out through the subterranean labyrinth in search of their master's prize. Only a handful remained to shadow the Dark Lord's descent.

But, before they could, they turned their blades on a new disturbance. A scout, willingly approaching them with entreaties from House Gyukia. The Dark Lord had only one thing to pass along to their leader, drawing the scout towards Him with the Force. "Eat your fill of this world as you please, but do not stand in our way. Wear your colors openly, and my servants shall not harm thee." Then, unharmed, the scout was released.

Then, floating like a specter, the Dark Lord descended into the catacombs.

Corazona von Ascania | Lysander von Ascania | Bernard
Victor Lee Burukai | Thilarii Altinova ​

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

OBJECTIVE 4
OPERATION KANDOR: THAAL'QUORR MOUNTAIN HEIST

<"Ganker Limpet secured to the mountain, Raz. We're coming back inside."> The voice of Carver crackled through the comm-system.

Razmir spoke a quick acknowledgement, but his attention quickly returned to the readouts he was receiving. Ganker limpets had been delivered and deployed all around the mountain, with acceptable losses. Everyone had known this mission would be suicidal, so they'd brought plenty redundance, for the off-chance this mad scheme actually worked out.

So far, it worked much better than expected. The freighters on slave-circuits showed green as well, their droid crews having taken care of getting the limpets where they needed to be.

"Ambition's Reach here, enough limpets are in position. Get your crews back inside a ship or prepare to lose whoever's not in a vac-suit."

A double-knock against the cockpit corridor sounded, the signal that his own crew had made it back inside the freighter.

"I hope you got all your affairs in order before this, because we're about to find out if this will work. Initiating hyperspace launch sequence in 5...

"4...

"3...

"2...

"1...

"Going to light speed!"

Raz grit his teeth and pushed the hyperdrive-lever all the way forward. The limpets sputtered to life.

One moment the great mountain fortress of Thaal'quorr stood proud on the Ka'thaa'rhan surface, the next it floated in a blue-cloudy bubble in hyperspace, likely the only piece of Ka'thaa'rhan rock that would survive its sun.

Jerec Asyr Parvati K4-ZAN Zayah Bane Kinley Pryse

 

[Jerec Asyr]

THE PORTION OF OBJECTIVE FOUR THAT IS BLACK SUN'S OPERATION KANDOR
MOUNTAIN CITY OF THAAL'QUORR
HYPERSPACE

Stage Two: Steal/Recruit the Elite Cyborg Warriors And/Or Loot the Fortress Which Is Now In Hard Vacuum And Zero-G, Enjoy

Picture it this way. Jerec did, because, stupidly, he was on his ship's ramp, in a gunfight against half a dozen cyborgs, when all the hyperdrives triggered and pulled everyone and everything out of realspace.

It was still yes absolutely a mountain with a fortress built into it, surrounded by aggressive elite guards and Black Sun ships. It was just that everything beyond the Black Sun perimeter was hyperspace. Crumbling rock, swirling grass clods. As fog, all the air rushed away into another universe.

Jerec threw himself up the ramp, freezing and holding his breath, and sealed and pressurized the airlock.

A squad of elite warriors started pounding on the airlock. Very strongly, then weaker. He'd figured they'd keep blasting but apparently the terror of hyperspace was purging their little ethnofascism-stunted brains down to factory settings. Better for everyone.

Eventually he let them into the airlock, into artificial gravity and sweet sweet air, and started negotiating.

Razmir Tezhyn Parvati K4-ZAN Zayah Bane Kinley Pryse