Junction The Spoils | Sith Order/Mandalorian Empire Junction for Apoptosia and Empty Hex

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Tag: Alara Ordo Mig Gred​

Minerva stood holding onto a rail with one hand. Outwardly she was as calm she could be, yet inwardly… Within the helm the veteran warrior gritted her teeth and her whole body shook with absolute fury.

There were two groups she hated the most in all of the galaxy. Sith and Imperials.

The latter were collapsing onto themselves as her vode moved in for the kill. Yet it was in collaboration with the bloody Sith!! She shook her head, sickened at the very idea. Minerva couldn't fathom why Mand'alor continued to insist on maintaining that contract with a cultist queen despite centuries' worth of evidence of how allying with Sith, any Sith leads to suffering, slavery if not outright genocide for their people sooner or later.

Suppressing a sigh Minerva thought. If it wasn't for the opportunity Mig Gered gave me to save people I wouldn't have come at all.

She exhaled at last turning to Mig Gered in gratitude. She listened attentively to his instructions while sparing a glance to Alara of Clan Ordo. The warrior nodded back to Mig.

"You got it vod. Those cultists and Imps can kill each other for all I care. We need to save as many innocents as we can, whether they want our help or not."

Pausing for a moment she added. "Besides the Sith we've had to be on the watch for Imperials. They're cornered and will lash out."

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy + [Open]
LOCATION: The Ferocity [Near Planet Tion]

____________________________________________________

"I have been thinking of Tion…"

Her words were for the Dark Councilors…Though she didn't speak to any of them individually. It would plant the seeds of where her thoughts had gone, anticipating, the next crusade. She brushed delicately past the one of the few Sepulchral who didn't summarily loathe her existence and her empty expression would relay nothing. Darth Caedes would have felt differently, however, perhaps, even sensed through the painted mask that left her serene.

"I have been thinking…Of how it might have missed me...It would be cruel of me to deny it much longer."

A pause.

"Do you not agree?"​

What use did she have for Imperial trash?

The wintry Empress of the Sith Order was silent while watching the minor planet of Tion grow in the distance. Most of her children would be focused on the practical purpose of claiming shipyards while wiping out swindling Faithless resistance. The Ferocity cut through velvet space like a knife while the Second Legion moved in silence. True to form…She had not hidden her plain intention to visit Tion in the near future. Her Dark Councilors were well aware of the monstrous shape her wrath could take and had wisely coordinated movement with the Mandalorian Empire before she could take matters into her own hands. Her patience had grown thin.

The vessel that Isley Verd had gifted her when she had been new to Force and this galaxy was among her favored treasures. It wasn't as flashy as the warships she had created for the Mandalorian Empire but there was something timeless about it. It had been built to last, fast, powerful, and it held the same quiet certainty that Srina preferred in herself. There was no wasted motion and no excess of visual noise…Only the inevitability of arrival. All around them, the battle had already begun, with some of the shipyards burning in slow collapsing spirals.

She didn't bother with them.

They had no value.

There was nothing that existed with former Imperial territory that would benefit her Empire more than what they could create themselves. Certainly, they could use it for salvage…But she didn't find any value in utilizing something an enemy had left behind. Not when there could be back-door codes that would allow Imperial remnants access, likely, as some kind of "gotcha" when they "least expected it" from what should have been a dead carcass.

It was pathetic how swiftly their enemies broke when victory was naught but a dream.

Tion did not glow the way the battlefield did, not yet, merely existing as a perfect marble in the ruin of its orbit. Srina stood near the viewport with one had resting lightly against cool transparisteel. Black and gold silk fell in clean, deliberate lines along her frame, with runes laying dormant. She had no need to hide her presence. This was not war. This was...

A walk. A long, long walk.​

The faint scent of jasmine and rain lingered, soft and unnatural, against the sterile air of the command deck. Everything was quiet within the Ferocity, almost peaceful, in comparison to the hell these worlds would soon endure. Srina had no quarrel with them individually. It was the yoke of Faithless scum that would see them burn because their witless masters had turned their eyes toward what belonged to her.

They had injured and killed her children.

Bombed and burned her world, wounding, her young Psilofyr…Who knew not why, he burned.

This was a response to those actions, warranted, or not. It would seem like overkill to target so many planets at once. It was. It was an extraordinary response to the body fighting a virus and excising it with extreme prejudice. The Faithless in all forms, all of their dirty cousins, were a blight.

Blights deserved to burn.

Mercurial eyes pulled from Tion when she felt the air shift behind her. The diminutive woman didn't need to turn or look to know that Mercy approached. She could feel the much larger woman and her hand moved from the window, raised, waiting, for it to be taken. Her battle-sister had been strangely silent during this venture, or, overly loud. This battle seemed to have more weight to it but the Empress of the Blackwall wasn't quite certain where it came from. There was much of Mercy's history that was…Blurred. Perhaps, not deliberately hidden—But cut away.

"The shipyards will either be taken by the Legion…Or they will fall."

The words would feel less like information and more like a sword falling on the neck of a fallen foe. It was damning, hungry, and full of fury for the sins the Faithless had dared to perpetuate. Alabaster skin would seem almost translucent when her teeth ground together and the line of her jaw sharpened. She was aware of the hypocrisy—But cared little for it. Her fingers would curl around the much larger hand of the Titan of Coruscant once her hand was accepted… Taking another, long, slow look at Tion.

"…Shall I destroy it for you?"

Spoiler: Equpiment

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

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Naedira Darcrath | Srina Talon | Mercy | Barragh Nenn

Gerwald Lechner left the council chamber on Mirial after the discussion had run its course.

The matters before the Sith had been laid out and answered in the way they always were, and each had taken position as the lines between them settled. Nothing in that room required his continued presence once it was clear where they stood.

Beyond it, events had already begun to move.

Reports spread quickly across the Blackwall and along the Parlemian Trade Route, describing Imperial forces withdrawing from positions they had held only days before while other elements turned on one another. What should have been a unified response after Brosi had fractured into something far less controlled.

Gerwald had already given the order for the Second Legion to move when Srina Talon called for it, and they were underway before he ever stood to leave, committed to the advance while the rest of the galaxy was still trying to understand what it was seeing.

He remained only long enough to see the room settle before stepping away.

The Vigfjall came out of hyperspace at the edge of the fighting over Tion, and the shift from hyperspace to open conflict brought a sudden flood of motion and light across the forward viewport.

Imperial ships drifted at uneven angles around the shipyards, some still venting atmosphere in long white streams that trailed into the dark while others burned in sections where hull plating had split. A cruiser near the outer ring turned slowly as its engines failed, its mass carrying it into a cluster of smaller vessels that could not move clear in time.

Closer to the station, the fighting tightened.

Boarding craft cut through the space between ships in steady lines, their engines flaring as they adjusted course toward exposed docking ports and fractured gantries. Turbolaser fire crossed between advancing ships and the outer defenses of the shipyard, lighting the structure in sharp flashes that revealed torn plating and open sections where the battle had already forced its way inside.

Along the far side of one of Tion’s industrial moons new movement broke the pattern.

A fleet emerged from behind the curvature of the moon, using its mass as cover before turning into the engagement. The largest vessel led the formation, its bulk dwarfing the ships that followed, while the rest of the fleet spread around it in a defensive array. Weapons signatures rose across the group as they cleared the moon’s shadow, and a moment later the first missile barrage cut toward the shipyards, targeting the streams of boarding craft moving in from every direction.

The effect was immediate. Several dropships broke apart under the barrage, and others scattered to avoid the incoming fire. The pressure on the shipyards shifted as the new fleet forced its way into the engagement.

Gerwald watched the change without moving.

The bridge of the Vigfjall held steady around him, lit in low red tones broken by the muted glow of control panels and the constant flow of data across them. The hum of the ship ran beneath everything else, deep enough to be felt through the deck. Officers moved within that space without wasted motion, and their voices remained low as orders passed from one station to the next without interruption.

His Legion was already inside the engagement, and their formations held where others had broken as they advanced in measured pushes and secured what they took instead of overrunning it.

The Vigfjall maintained its position along the outer edge of the battle, where movement remained possible and the press of ships had not closed in. The center of the fighting was already crowded, and the arrival of the remnant fleet only tightened it further.

Gerwald’s attention moved across the shipyards as the battle shifted.

Some sections were already being abandoned. Others were still being held under increasing pressure. The new barrage had bought those defenders time, but not enough to change what would follow. There were still places where the outcome had not yet been decided, where resistance remained in pockets that had not yet been broken.

His focus settled there.

A shift moved through the Force that had nothing to do with the battle.

It did not appear on any display, and no sensor marked its arrival, but it carried a weight that did not belong to ships or weapons. Srina Talon had entered the system, and her presence spread across the field with a quiet certainty that was untouched by the chaos around it.

Gerwald did not turn from the viewport.

He knew she was there.

The timing was not lost on him.

Gerwald did not move when Naedira Darcrath came to stand beside him, and for a moment nothing passed between them that the room could see.

Her presence settled at his side and held, and it did not fade into the background or allow what had been chosen to be set aside. He did not turn his head, and he did not create space between them.

A slight shift of his hand at his side closed the last inch between them, and his fingers brushed against hers before pausing with quiet certainty that the contact was intentional, even if no one else on the bridge would notice it.

The contact did not linger, but it was enough to acknowledge her presence and answer it without drawing attention.

Srina Talon’s call had taken him from Naedira, and he had answered it knowing exactly what it would cost, and that choice remained what it had always been. Standing beside her now did not change that decision, but the distance it had created did not hold in the same way once she was there at his side.

“You’ve done well here,” he said quietly. “Shall we remind them what happens when we stand together?”

Around them, the fighting continued to tighten around the shipyards as boarding craft struck in waves while the remnant fleet pressed its attack and sections of the station were forced open under sustained assault.

The Vigfjall held its position, and Gerwald remained at the viewport with Naedira beside him.

He was not alone.

“Your boarding ship is ready along with a contingent of Dreadguard, my lord,” a voice came from behind him.

The Dread Wolf turned his gaze to his she-wolf.

It was time.

 

[Amni Kazda]

Current Outfit
Kitty

As Lazzasha Jovee and Olyssandra disembark their ship to try to wreak havoc, a giant portal with jagged orange edges appeared before them. All the Sith warriors could see through the portal was nothing but inky black darkness. A spilt second later, a young woman jumped out of the portal a wielding a massive blade as large as she was. A cocky grin was etched on her face. Despite the Imperial Faction going down in flames, Amni was eager to battle. She wanted to win of course, but if it's her time die then it's best to drag these Sith down with her all the way to hell.

"Oh hello there!" Amni said. "You know it's rather rude for you to just waltz onto someone's planet and start wrecking the place! I didn't even start handing out invitations to the party!"

As she said that, Amni raised her hand summing a large Force push towards the two ladies. "But I suppose I should give you a warm welcome!" She shouted with a grin.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective III //:
//: Kaelen Voss //: Lysander von Ascania //: OPEN //:
//: Attire //:

Diplomacy. That was her use to the Empire. Unlike the others, she didn't cry out for death and blood. She fought differently, using her words and influence rather than her blade or power. Many looked down on her, and many considered her the weakest on the council. It was a common rumor that she had been appointed only through nepotism. Her Master, the greatest deceiver, Taeli Raaf, and her mother, the Empress of the Order, it was easy to assume.

Quinn ran her hands down the fabric of the dress she wore. Today, she was a Dark Councilor, the heir apparent to the throne — her place as Queen would be on the forefront as well, but in these relations, she was a Sith above all else. Exhaling softly, she listened to the student she had brought along speak his feelings on the matter.

She sponsored him, and seeing an Echani power rise through the ranks at the Jutrand Academy was nice to see. There weren't many, since the Jedi had heavily influenced Eshan for so long. Kaelen was a small breath of fresh air. His words echoed his teachings at the academy: fight, conquer, words that were the core of the Sith Doctrine.

It wasn't the core of hers, but she understood its appeal. Perhaps she's been sitting in Republic space for far too long.

She did enjoy their assortment of teas.

Another call from the boy as she could hear him pacing, his presence fluctuating, showing its power. The opposite of her in many ways. Quinn moved quietly, unnoticed by the rest of the Empire. Her face was known because of her status. Sighing softly, she finally emerged from the shuttle and allowed the click of her heels to be what announced her arrival.

She nodded her head towards him, motioning him to follow. Quinn didn't answer right away; her eyes remained focused on the route ahead of them. The moment he caught up, she would keep pace just with a bit more distance between them, a subconscious action — one she never drew attention to.

"Councilor, Queen, or Princess, are fine ways to address me. Overseer makes me sound like an old man." A small smile curled at her red-stained lips as she looked towards the taller boy. He was everything a Sith Echani should be, everything she was not.

She thought about his words.

"You think they should have fought?" She asked between them. Then she shook her head once.

"I don't."

Quinn often went against the grain when it came to the other Sith; she disagreed with many of her elders' desires. Maybe it was her upbringing or her Master. But she saw potential in certain things.

"Fighting isn't the only way to have strength, it's just the loudest one." Her emerald eyes would flicker once more to the boy, to study his face and reaction to her words. As Echani, their bodies often spoke more truth than their words.

"They looked at us… at what we are capable of… and chose to keep their people alive instead of proving a point."

She tilted her head slightly, thinking about the instruction.

"That is not being weak." Quinn smiled as she sighed breathlessly, almost amused at the young Sith's bravado.

"Not everyone needs to burn to matter." Her tone softened, trying to show the ease with which this line of thought could come.

"And not every victory requires force." She mused and continued walking towards the welcoming party.

"If anything, this tells you more about them than a battlefield ever could. They value survival and seek stability." Eyes narrowed slightly in thought as she took a small glance at a gentleman near a pillar.

"That means they can be reasoned with. Worked with. Maybe even trusted, under the right conditions." Her eyes moved from the man to the Acolyte. It was his turn to participate in the lesson.

"You're asking why they don't fight." Her smile widened as she looked away and finished.

"I'm asking why you think that's the only thing that makes something worth having."

The young Queen left the boy with a thought, one that she wondered how he would eventually answer her. But first, she needed to say 'Hello' to an acquaintance — one she only knew through reputation and gifts.

"Lysander?" She asked carefully, offering her hand to shake. "I received your gift, it is a beautiful speederbike, I've quite enjoyed toying with her a bit."

Her smile soft toying with a hint of mischief and playfulness.

"You have quite the eye for speeders, I will say. Hopefully, that same attention to detail is included in your diplomatic repertoire." Pausing, she looked at the Acolyte and offered to introduce the two.

"Kaelen Voss, this is Lysander von Ascania — he's with the Sith Covenant, our neighbors in the Core."

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Quinn Varanin | Kaelen Voss | Lysander von Ascania | Irina Jesart​

The war did not feel distant simply because Voss had chosen not to resist.

It followed them.

It settled into the quiet between ships as they descended through clear skies that should have been burning. There were no defensive formations waiting in orbit, no desperate fleets buying time for a world that refused to yield. The systems they had passed on the way here had told the same story in fragments, Imperial forces withdrawing, turning inward, breaking apart under pressures that had nothing to do with the advance pressing in from the outside.

Aerik had felt it the entire approach, not as victory or relief, but as something unfinished, something that had not yet decided where it would fall.

Voss did not carry that weight the way the rest of the galaxy did. The landing platform stood unmarred, the stone beneath his boots untouched by war. Even the air lacked the sharp edge he had come to expect, no trace of ionization, no distant echo of bombardment. It would have been easy to mistake it for peace if he did not know better.

It was a choice.

He stepped away from the edge of the platform as the others began to move, his pace unhurried as his gaze tracked those ahead of him. Diplomats and officers moved alongside Sith who understood that not every victory needed to be taken by force, even if most preferred it that way.

His attention did not stay on them.

It found her without effort.

Quinn Varanin stood apart without trying to, the space around her shaped more by presence than distance. There was nothing in her posture that reached for attention, nothing that demanded it, and yet it settled there all the same. He watched her for a moment as she moved, her steps measured and controlled, the conversation she carried with the Echani student unfolding in a way that most would not expect from someone in her position.

Not weak.

Never that.

Different.

His gaze shifted slightly as he drew closer, and it did not settle on her face at first, but lower, to the place where her hand had once rested along his jaw.

There had been a time when that moment carried something unguarded and real in a way neither of them had tried to define. That place was no longer untouched. The line of the scar had settled there in its place, not jagged and not careless, but unmistakable all the same.

Brosi had left its mark.

She had told him what she was.

Dangerous. Not in the way others pretended to be, but in the way that did not need to announce itself. She had told him to keep his distance, and at the time he had understood the words without needing to test them.

He did not slow as he closed the space between them.

Distance had never been the point.

He closed the remaining distance without changing his pace, his attention fixed forward rather than lingering on the exchange beside her, even as the conversation carried clearly enough for him to follow.

Only once he stepped into it did his gaze shift, briefly taking in the Echani at her side and the man she had turned to greet before returning to her.

He had not come to Voss as an observer. With the Second Legion mobilized and his father remaining with the fleet, there were few within the Order positioned to carry that weight planetside. The Kainite were not present, and that absence did not leave a void. It left something that needed to be held.

Irina Jesart would meet him here. Until then, it was his to carry.

“Then they chose well.”

He did not interrupt. He allowed the conversation to reach its natural pause before stepping fully into it, his presence settling into the space without forcing attention and drawing it all the same.

“Councilor.”

He turned slightly as he spoke, hating the formality he had to show, the acknowledgment beginning with Quinn before extending to the others beside her.

“Aerik Lechner.”

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Lianna, Outer Rim Territories
| Objective | II - Delenda Est - Locate the Data Vault

Itzhal Volkihar strode through the desolate streets of the district, helm raised, where the corpses did not consume his attention. There were so many of them, sprawled across the silent stone, expressions distorted by the flash of terrible heat that melded flesh to clothes and sealed their sightless gaze beneath a veil of charred skin. It was quiet here. A ghost town, with only crumbling facades and the tinkle of collapsing window panes to speak of the activity that had once flooded the streets. The air was heavy with the scent of scorched earth and fading memories, wisps of the people that he could not dare to look upon, or else face the truth of the matter.

He was the monster that walked upon shattered lives.

His boots echoed softly on the cracked pavement, each step a stark contrast to the distant thunder of turbolasers and the horrendous roar of bombs falling elsewhere, distorted by the auditory filters in his helmet, which muffled the sound of war to a mere shadow of the terrible beast that left ruin and suffering in its wake.

Once, the Confederacy had been a behemoth that towered over lesser states, held equal amongst the great powers of the Galaxy—not out of friendship or alliance, but through an iron grip and the might of their armies. Their losses at Brosi had shattered that grip, sundered the might that had continued to grow, until eventually their pride had fallen upon the Sith Order, and found themselves lacking in turn.

Despite it all, Itzhal could not find himself surprised; the memories of the Confederacy and their attempts to meddle with the Mandalorian Empire were still fresh, amusing in their inadequacy. Voices of order, squabbling amongst themselves, as if the negotiations of two great powers were a mere source of entertainment. In a way, it had been, although not for those directly involved. He still remembered the moment when harsh words had turned to action, when the Imperials had decried them as bloodthirsty monsters, while they themselves ordered their minions to place a knife at the Mand'alor's throat.

Oh, they'd been right about monsters.

Perhaps if they had understood the implications of threatening one, they might not have found themselves in this situation. Yet, he doubted that it would have made a difference; even if they hadn't provoked the Empire of Iron, they still would have been contested by the Sith Order.

In truth, it was only a matter of time before they arrived at this point, with the heart of their empire burning beneath the glow of a thousand suns, and scavengers roaming over the devastated core.

Marble steps cracked under the purposeful stride of his boots, shrouded in the shadow of enormous pillars that held the bowing facade of the once-pristine building marked 'Heliox Dynamics'. The name meant little to him, nothing more than a point on the way to his destination. His steps carried him through the doorway and into the vast space of the central hall, utterly silent, save for the soft scuffle of his boots against the debris that carpeted the floor—a mosaic of melted titles, scorched furniture, and the discarded bodies that still hissed with steam like the grim whispers of their final realisations.

So much waste.

With iron will, he stifled the temptation to shake his head—whether in frustration or disappointment, he could no longer tell. The moment for recriminations would arrive in time, but it was not this moment, no matter how much he might wish it so. Aware of the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, Itzhal marched on, his Buy'ce scanning from side to side as they moved past the array of imposing statues and cordoned-off areas filled with cubicles and desks for those working on the first level. In the corner of his vision, the sensor feeds of his helmet revealed the Mandalorians trailing behind him, quiet shadows in a world of silence.

Eventually, his steps arrived at a bookcase—the flimsi records charred to a cinder—exposing the mechanisms behind it as his hand slipped towards the control panel and inserted the data-spike that started to trill with an assortment of gentle beeps.

Tags: Avast Verd Niijima Izumi​

 

[Her]

---

---

Tags: Allyson Locke | Taeli Raaf

---

' The Spoils '
A chapter set in the former Imperial Confederation, within The Neyrix

~

They say that there was once-upon-a-time a race of alien humanoids who had traversed the stars during the Four-Hundred Year Darkness. In their wake they left monuments which served (today) as the only signs that they had lived all that time ago. Lost to time, with their real names or origins lost to the dark, the historians, archaeologists and archivists who had spent the time to research or record the signs which indicated where these people had once been had all come to call them the Builders due to the esoteric structures and satellites that they had built and left behind before their disappearance from the galactic record.

A pyramid looms above the fog dense Halquarn District in a place which had fallen into a dystopia since the Sith Empire had called Lianna theirs before they had returned today, to the former realms of the Tion Hegemony, to destroy the sycophants who had dared to invade Thandon.

After all the Imperials had torched Brosi and irrevocably changed it forever. It was only right then that the Liann should then burn as well beneath the fury and wrath of Darth Prazutis. Revenge is a verse of the dark-side. Emperor Kilran rolled around in his grave and the statues carved during his reign over the Empire of the Lost stare upwards to skies set on fire above the place that he had conspired to takeover in order to forge new paradigms which failed to see the emergence of his Galactic Empire.

Unfortunately for Kilran, like his successors from the Imperial Confederation, he had conspired with a woman which in hindsight they all should have shot on the spot at the time. Far too late for that, Her feared.

Situated at the top of the pyramid structure laid the single, solitary office of a peculiar non-profit organisation which had reshaped and subsequently affected all of the political, economic and wars which had come about since the turn-of-the-ninth century. Three former Jedi turned to the dark-side converge upon the Neyrix with each of them enamoured by their own goals and persecution, and while Prazutis set Lianna City on fire for daring to host the foundations of a conspiracy that had set the Imperial remnants towards invading Thandon twice-over, the enigmatic Her was preparing to flee the Lianna system before the Kainite found their adversary who had been moulded by Him all those years ago when Coruscant had been the jewel of the One Sith . . .

---

 

[Mia Monroe]

Tags: Darth Carnifex Ronhar Tane​

This wasn’t a battle, it was an annihilation.

Orbital bombardment had flattened entire sectors, erased them from existence with little warning. Guilty and innocent alike. There was no remorse, no hesitation to dispatch anyone and everyone that still stood in support for a dead nation. The force swam with fear and death, the air thick with smoke and ash that her helmet filters were working overtime to prevent her from inhaling. Ash fell like snow over what remained, as the Warmaster simply stood and took it all in.

She was alone, the warhost had received its orders, dispatching across the city to find what remained, extracting civilians between the Sith’s careless onslaught and dispatching imperials without mercy. She’d come here, where the bombs had silenced the city in a way that made her uneasy, fists opened and closed at her side.

Mia felt him coming, long before his ship touched down in silent street, the oppressive shadow in the force that heralded his arrival settled over her like a blanket, stilling the movement of her hands. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and reminding herself that killing him was a waste of time. It wouldn’t bring any of them back, it wouldn’t change anything he had done.

But that didn’t mean that when her visor angled his way, her face concealed behind the black and gold buy’ce, that she didn’t relish the thought of wrapping her hands around his throat and watching life fade from his eyes, if only so he could crawl his way back from the dead and she could do it again and again…

“Carnifex.” Her greeting was cold and clipped, eyes taking in his escort without her helm moving. “I see you are still in the business of using a gravhammer to crack a nut.”

 

[Na Ri]

Objective 2​

The facility swallowed Na Ri in flickering light and long stretches of shadow.

Each step inside carried the faint echo of instability; distant rumbles rolling through the structure, the uneven pulse of failing power, the quiet hiss of something burning far deeper within. She moved carefully, one hand brushing lightly along the wall as she followed a narrower corridor branching away from the main entry.

The air here was worse, catching in her chest almost immediately.

She slowed, her breath faltering behind the cloth at her lips. A faint cough pressed upward, stubborn and insistent. She turned slightly, shoulders drawing in as she tried to suppress it; but it slipped through anyway, soft at first, then sharper.

She pressed the cloth tightly around her mouth, as though to further muffle the sound. When it passed, she lingered a moment, steadying herself. Her fingers tightened faintly around the fabric before she lowered her hand again, the motion seasoned and practiced.

She hadn't come for the war above.

Where fleets saw targets, she saw what was left behind; those buried in the aftermath, those overlooked in the rush for power and data. Facilities like this one, half-spared and half-forgotten, were where the wounded lingered… or where something worth saving had yet to be destroyed.

That was reason enough.

And then Na Ri heard a sound, different and closer than that of the chaos from above.
Down the corridor, a figure came into view; unsteady, braced against the wall as he moved. His pace was slow, uneven in a way that needed no explanation. Even from here, she could hear the strain in his breathing, see the way he compensated for something that refused to hold his weight.

She didn’t immediately move towards him, choosing to watch his movements from a distance.

Another tremor rolled through the facility, shaking loose a thin veil of dust between them.

Na Ri stepped forward then, slow enough not to startle, her presence revealed more by motion than sound.

"You should stop for a moment.”

Her voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the distant rumble, but steady.

She kept her distance, not closing the space between them completely. Her eyes lingered briefly; on the way he stood, the tension in his posture; before drifting away again, as if the observation had not been intentional.

"The corridors ahead…" she added quietly, glancing toward the deeper levels where red emergency lights pulsed faintly. "They're unstable."

Another cough rose without warning, this one caught harder.

She turned her head, bringing the cloth to her lips as her shoulders dipped with the force of it. It lingered, pulling a faint tremor through her frame before she forced it back down. When she straightened, her breathing was slower to recover this time. But she mentioned nothing of it.

There was a time and place for such things; and this was definitely not the time nor the place.

Instead, she reached into her sleeve and withdrew a small, folded cloth; clean and carefully kept. She held it out, not stepping closer, simply offering it across the space between them.

"For the bleeding," she said softly.

Somewhere deeper in the facility, a sharp crack split the air; followed by a distant, mechanical whine as something powered up or failed entirely. The red lights flickered harder for a moment, then steadied into a dim, pulsing glow.

Na Ri's gaze shifted briefly toward the source, then back to him. "I'm heading further in," she added, quieter now. "There may still be people alive below… or records that haven't been purged yet." She paused, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "If you're going the same way…" her voice trailed just slightly, as though weighing the words even as she spoke them, "…you'll have to decide quickly."

Prisoner #36929​

 

[Barragh Nenn]

TION
The Eye of Helvede
Objective 1 - Assist the Remnants
Enemies: Mandalorians/Sith
Gerwald Lechner | CT-312

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Data from the Hounds Tooth's missile barrage streamed across screens on the bridge of the Eye of Helvede.

Scans recorded dropships ripping apart as they flew towards the shipyards.

Officers on the command deck of the bridge watched as cluster missiles detonated at range as though they were minute star bursts flaring into existence before disappearing.

It seemed that many ships aligned with the Sith Empire or the Mandalorians were dedicated to taking the shipyards themselves now that many Remnant forces were effectively reduced to debris or wreckage drifting without direction.

Another ship, large and impossible to miss had come out of hyperspace closer to the fighting over Tion, the Vigfjall, senors would detect it shortly after its arrival.

The Captain would approach the flickering hologram of the Umbaran again to report...

"Reports indicate the missile barrage disrupted boarding action over several sectors of the shipyards briefly. It appears minor vessels may be turning to engage us. We are not at threat yet though, Lord."​

...a nod of acknowledgement from the Umbaran before he replied...

"Relay to the Hounds Tooth, fire at will. The Hammer may also begin its barrage. Frigates and the Prixar to hold."

...the Captain saluted then withdrew, disappear back to comms where he relayed to the Officer there and the orders were relayed across the Fleet.

The Hologram flicked from existence reappearing on another emitter near the Gunnery Chief where he'd command...

"Target Corvettes and Frigates closest to us. Fire pulse cannons and turbolaser batteries."

...across the bridge the Umbaran likewise relayed to the Captain...

"Scramble ten squadrons."

The Officers could only obey, it was done.

Within moments it was done. The Hound's Tooth would begin another missile barrage targeting Dropships and Pods, this time it would evolve into a continuous fire solution as all of its sixty launchers continued to find and track targets. While it may be a drop in the bucket considering the scale of battle every ship destroyed or turned away from boarding action meant that Remnant forces had opportunities to regroup.

Erstwhile the Hammer began its attack as well though it was indiscriminate. Megamaser and turbolaser batteries belched lances of light and kinetic force across the battlefield.

The Eye of Helvede opened wide too, powerful electromagnetic pulse cannons fitted to the capital scale targeted smaller vessels for maximum damage. Heavy quad turbolaser batteries provided further pressure. Ten squadrons of fighters tore away from the secondary hangars on the port and starboard sides of the Command Carrier. They were a swarm that broke away to engage the enemy fleet, harassing their smaller vessels and fighters, sowing further chaos in an already chaotic scene.

Spoiler

The Eye of Helvede - Command Carrier/Battlecruiser
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Hammer - Imperial I-class Star Destroyer
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Hounds Tooth - Tyrant III Class Missile Cruiser
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
Celox-Class Frigate (1)
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
Celox-Class Frigate (2)
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Prizar - Lianna II-Class Corvette
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged

 

[Mercy]

Target: Tion
Location: The Ferocity
Tags: Srina Talon

Ever since New Alderaan Mercy had found herself in a strange mood.

It had been the closest she got to Tion in a lifetime.

The mood had been so severe Mercy allowed only few people to see her in the time since. Only the closest to her, because for them Mercy cared enough to fake her usual boisterous mood to ensure they didn't notice anything off about her. Then her sister mentioned that they were planning an assault on all the holdings of the crumbling Imperial Confederacy.

Among them... the Tion Cluster, including Tion itself.

The hesitation was brief, but been almost palpable to someone like Srina Talon , who in a such a short span of time had become so close to Mercy.

Sisters.

She had never had a sister before.

Her approach was more subdued than ever before. Strength in the tread, yes, but none of the usual mirth. Finally the large woman settled next to Srina and gently took the offered hand into hers. Bringing it to her lips and Mercy kissed each knuckle, oh so softly, almost meaningfully.

"Would that please you?" The voice, as low and gravely as always, but quiet in its intensity as amber eyes watched the familiar planet through the viewport in front of them. She had not seen it in... so many years. Mercy remembered how she had slipped away as a teenager, quiet like a shadow, creeping away like a thief in the night.

The world had felt so large to her then. All-consuming and dominating.

It was so small now or maybe it was Mercy who had simply outgrown it in all that time.

"During our raid on New Alderaan we gained some intel." Mercy shared with Srina without peeling her eyes away from the planet. There was something building in her chest, something Mercy did not have a name for, but it was tight and it was oppressive.

Her hand squeezed back, around Srina's.

"Most of Tion was converted into a penal colony, but the Administrative Core is said to be formidable in... opulence." Mercy knew exactly why that was, but she did not share that, not yet anyway. "Let their shipyards burn... but I want to visit the Core and break it apart together with you, brick by brick. What say you?"

It was time to come home.

Even if strangers had occupied it and transformed it.

The Princess wished to see it with her own eyes. What the Imperials had made of her family's palace and everything inside of it.

 

[Irina Jesart]

Wearing: XXX
Tags: Aerik Lechner Quinn Varanin Lysander von Ascania Kaelen Voss Vytal Noctura | OPEN

Her dress whispered as she moved, the hem kissing the banquet floor as dark eyes surveyed the room around her. This was her nightmare. She wondered what she had done to deserve such punishment from Gerwald Lechner to attend such an event while he got the pleasure of ransacking what was left of the Confederation. Still, there was one saving grace to the torture.

Irina’s eyes found him, the tension in her shoulders lifting for a heartbeat at the sight of Aerik Lechner , until she realised who he was standing with.

"You care about only the things that benefit you. It's troubling, and an embarrassment to your Master."​

The Councillor’s words still rang loudly in her ears, the memory bringing heat to her cheeks. For a moment she remained rooted to the spot, suddenly wanting to find somewhere else to be. Irina caught herself, letting out an annoyed huff of a sigh at her own stupidity. She was here as Lord Lechner’s representative. No matter her personal feelings nor her discomfort she had a job to do. She took a breath, exhaling slowly and settling her face behind a practiced mask.

She moved smoothly, slipping into a small group of Voss with a polite smile, introducing herself and expressing gratitude for the banquet they hosted. Then, she let them talk, let them guide the conversation. It was a small thing, but granting someone power in conversations like these often led them to relax more, to reveal more truth than they would if questioned directly. She paid attention, smiling where appropriate, listening to the finer details, to the words that weren’t said. Her eyes flicked once in Aerik’s direction, catching his eye, the smile on her face warmed just a touch before she shifted her attention forward once more.

 

[Avast Verd]

| Location | Lianna, Outer Rim Territories
| Objective | II - Delenda Est - Locate the Data Vault
Itzhal Volkihar Niijima Izumi

Avast didn't spare the bodies more than a flick of her visor.

Dead stay dead. Space taught her that early.

The Pathfinder's boots shifted light across the broken floor, the heavy blaster pistol loose but ready in her grip, and her helm always moving taking in her surroundings. Truth be told, ground work still felt… odd. No drift, no vacuum hum, no endless black to stretch her mind into.. Instead it all felt as if the walls were closing in with air that felt too thick to really trust.

But she was fine to let the other two focus on slicing while she took care of security and back up. So, she slid to the flank, setting herself where she could watch both the entry and the long dead corridor behind them even if restless energy seemed to thrum off of her.

Three seconds.
Five.
Far too quiet.

That gunmetal grey helm tilted and then the woman gave a soft click of her tongue. Out while she was mapping Pathways, she always had music blaring or something going. She didn't like silence unless she was looking for it.

Deciding it was best to fill the silence, Avast pivoted her head and settled her attention on the pair.

[ So, what's the gossip movin' round in the clans eh? Anythin' interestin'? ] she wasn't looking for the standard who fought who or who passed the Verd'goten.

Oh no, what Avast was looking for was juicy gossip. The sort that had her wanting to be nosy and learn more.

 

[Teckla Tane]

​

Quasesitorum Operational Record

Objective: II - Delenda Est
Sub-Objective: Secure Quasesitorum assets, Assist in defense of Lianna
Location: Hangar level of IE Tower, Lianna City, Lianna
Equipment: See Bio
Tags: Ronhar Tane | Darth Carnifex | Mia Monroe
Dialogue Key: ”Galactic Basic” | <<Telepathic Communication>>

”See Archon-Prime, this is why you should not have come yourself to secure the data and assets of the Tower,” came an irritating voice from behind Teckla Tane.

Teckla really didn’t need to be here if truth was told. And if her sister wasn’t on important business Dextra would have likely been the one who was securing the assets that had been hidden away in Intergalactic Exports Tower. The faltering of the latest Imperial government to control Lianna was not the real reason that Teckla had chosen to oversee what could have been done by any Provisions Department agent and a capable security team. Teckla was here for exactly what was putting her in jeopardy.

”Do you think that I have not been on a planet suffering a orbital bombardment and ground assault before?” Teckla asked the Vigile that had suggested that they were not safe. ”I am a general and a warrior. I have survived wars. This is not something to fret over. In fact, this is the reason I came to Lianna. Someone was going to jump into the power vacuum that occurred when the Confederation pulled all its assets to four systems.

“It’s time for us to come back into the light of the galaxy,” Teckla continued in her declaration. She turned sharply then, her attention no longer on the doubtful Vigile but on the personnel scrambling across the operations floor. The tower trembled faintly under distant impacts, the hum of stressed infrastructure vibrating through the transparisteel and durasteel alike. Panic simmered beneath the surface—contained, but only just.

Teckla’s voice cut cleanly through it. ”All departments—listen carefully.” The room stilled. ”Initiate a full data extraction. I want everything—financial ledgers, client lists, research archives, encrypted communications—downloaded and transferred to portable cores immediately. Nothing is to remain in the system.”

Her gaze swept across them, daring hesitation. None came. ”Once extraction is confirmed, you will wipe and physically destroy every terminal, server, and relay in this tower. I want nothing left for anyone to recover.”

A beat. Then, colder—more deliberate. ”All valuable assets—physical, technological, or otherwise—are to be relocated to the Provisions laboratory. Consolidate everything there and prepare for extraction. You will remain in that location until retrieval arrives. No deviations.”

She stepped forward, the weight of command settling into something immovable. ”If you are interrupted—delay them. If you are threatened—burn it all. We do not leave anything behind.”

The orders landed like a blade. Movement resumed instantly—faster, sharper, purposeful now. Fear had been replaced with direction. Teckla did not watch them carry it out. She already knew they would. Instead, she turned back to the Vigile. ”Form up. We’re done here.”

The Force pressed against her then—not gently, not subtly. It roiled. Distorted. Violent. Her head tilted slightly as if listening to something far beyond the walls of the tower. There. A disturbance unlike the rest. Not the scattered panic of civilians or the chaotic surges of battle—but something concentrated. Titanic. Predatory.

And… familiar in its intensity. A faint smile touched her lips. ”Do you feel that?” she asked quietly, though she did not wait for an answer. ”That is where we are needed.” She moved without hesitation, cloak shifting behind her as she strode toward the exit, the Vigile falling into step around her in disciplined silence.
The corridors gave way to shattered access points and then to the open streets of Lianna—smoke-choked, lit by fire and weapons discharge, the air alive with the sound of conflict. Teckla did not slow. Her path cut directly through the chaos, guided not by sight, but by the pull of the Force itself. Each step brought the disturbance into sharper focus—two presences at its core. One vast and oppressive, like a storm given will. The other sharp, defiant, burning against it.

”With me,” she commanded simply. And then she led them straight toward it—toward the titans in the streets, toward Darth Carnifex and Mia Monroe, and whatever outcome awaited at the center of that storm.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Voss
Tags: Aselia Verd | Open

This was a bad idea.

Adelle rolled her neck, restless energy humming around her in the Force, as she walked toward the banquet hall the Voss had prepared. In spite of who else was going to be present, she’d opted for a new outift instead of her armor—one she’d been compelled to buy after Aurelian had foisted a whole new wardrobe on her for her stays in the High Republic. Adelle pulled at the hem of the military-inspired navy tabard, straightening it beneath the gold sash and black belt around her waist, before double-checking the collar and V-neck of her white tunic. The black hilt of her lightsaber sat with its comforting weight at the small of her back on her belt.

Sith and Mandalorians did not mix, historically. That they were working joint operations on Tion, Lianna, and even here on Voss, was a testament to the bonds that tied Clan Verd to House Talon. Jedi and Sith, even less so. Adelle had both in her history.

There was, however, one upside to this.

Adelle breathed deeply as they reached the doors of the hall, the faint smells of the banquet within mingling with the stronger scents of ozone and slugthrower propellant, as she settled herself. If anything went wrong, she had Aselia watching her back.

Inside, a group of Sith had already arrived. Quinn Varanin stood out immediately, if only because Adelle had seen her face more than once. A young man leaning against a pillar looked vaguely familiar, the profile of his face suggesting something aristocratic. Had she seen him somewhere before? Nothing came to mind. Warmaster Vytal Noctura stood off to the side, the only other person Adelle recognized.

“I swear, if you, me, and Vytal are the only Mandalorians present,” Adelle said quietly, leaning closer to Aselia, “I’m going to lose my mind.”