Junction The Sundering Dawn | Act II: Galaxy in Crisis (Chapter 2 | Crimson Wake)

[Darth Empyrean]

Objective II | Crimson Wake
Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf

Hurricane‑force snow peeled layers of paint from the shuttle’s heat‑tiles before landing struts found purchase on a makeshift repulsor pad of glowing orange ferrocrete. Seconds after touchdown the blizzard swallowed the sky again, casting the expedition party into a grainy tunnel of white where vibro‑compass needles spun uselessly. Flood‑lights stabbed outward and revealed row upon row of obsidian sarcophagi half‑entombed in the ice—carbonite graves resonating with a subsonic hum that chattered across helmet comms. Somewhere beneath, undead silhouettes scraped at transparent frost, locked forever in a twitching salute.

Forward scouts unpacked atmosphere tents that snapped rigid in cutters’ arcs of blue plasma. Inside, holotables flickered alive with the triangle‑and‑line glyph, overlaid on a subterranean schematic showing Vault A‑9 three kilometers southwest and ninety meters down. The path was a gauntlet of fissured crevasses and rogue carbonite geysers capable of flash‑freezing a sentient in seconds. Navigators passed around echo‑locators tuned to the backward pulse—thump‑thump… thump‑thump…—that every dreamer had felt. The beat now pulsed through the ice like a hidden sub‑ocean tide, guiding and mocking at once.

Breakthrough crews advanced with mag‑torches, seismic hammers, or ritual censer‑flames—each faction choosing its method. As the first blast door emerged from the glacier’s clutch, Sith acolytes began carving runes of binding while Jedi healers prepared bacta for frostbite triage. Mandalorian shock‑troops laid breaching charges, and corporate salvage drones snaked cables toward the vault’s data port, hoping to skim profits before history sealed them in footnotes. Beyond the reinforced iris lay midichlorian‑rich stasis chambers and the rumored Crimson Cauterizer—a living lattice that could stitch reality or rip it wider. The ice moaned overhead like a warning. One heartbeat, backward, then another. The door groaned, the wind screamed, and the expedition pushed into the dark, each footstep crunching on snow that had never known the warmth of a living sun.

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Odrin Rath Commodore Helix The King in Red | OPEN | //:
//: Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf//:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: IQA-11 , LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Objective II | Crimson Wake//:​

A glacier waste land, no signs of life. The ground was riddled with ice and snow. Gusts of chilling wind uncovered parts of frozen bodies peeking through the snowy ground. As the snow storm rages on howling, thick sheets of snow pushed sideways. The whole planet was engulfed in white and death.

Laying in the snow with a snow covered lightly tan cloak blending in with the surroundings, CT-312 was inspecting the landing site. Waiting. Surprised with the recent events and assignments. Not knowing what the Game Master was up to now. Being given two different tasks for this mission. Retrieve whatever artifact or items that was down here and evaluate the new batch of Troopers. Déjà vu, it felt like. She recalled her time back in the Star Destroyer's detention cell block.

—

A metal tray of food was delivered to CT-312 as she laid in the uncomfortable short bed. Thinking about all the times she’s been sent to ‘reflect’. Looking at the tray it was the basic food groups: protein, veggies, and carbs. How mundane. Slowly eating the tasteless food, CT-312 froze in place. Images of blinding snow and frosted planes, bodies standing like statues as if they were guarding something. Suddenly a crimson fissure erupted, ripping the glacier in half. The confused Scout Trooper could hear her own heartbeat as these images continued to flash in her eyes and mind. There was a stone archway that turned into spiral staircases going into the darkness. Something was moving down there.

CLANK

The sound of her fork dropping to the ground brought CT-312 to the present. Blinking. Not knowing what to make of what just happened. ‘Was the food bad?’ , grabbing the fork and placing it on the unfinished eaten tray. Setting it aside. Whatever was in the food, clearly was a hallucinogen. What was the Game Master up to?

Pneumatic door to her cell block opened suddenly. It was time.

—

The sound of multiple assault gun dropships landing caught CT-312’s attention. Raising her sniper rifle she waited. Recalling the Game Master’s words. “You’ve been assigned an additional task to the mission. Evaluate and eliminate any problematic recruits in this new batch. Just how you went through the trials, now it’s their turn. Don’t interfere with nature’s course. Oh, You and the Troopers will have some other company. Try not to embarrass yourself!” The bay’s of each drop ship opened, lowering their ramps. Squads of Troopers exited out, not knowing what to expect. As CT-312 stood up, snow fell off the cloak, crunching could be heard as her boots stepped in the snow and god knows what else as she walked over. Occasionally the cold bypassed the cloak, piercing through her armor. Sending chills to her bones. ‘Evaluate and eliminate’ words echoing in her mind. If they were problematic to the mission, that’s easier said than done.

As the majority of ships left, the new batch of Troopers were talking amongst themselves. Confused why they were sent to this frozen place. CT-312, blended in with the batch. Keeping a bit of a distance away from the main group of Troopers. Observing. The last ship finally departed and the Troopers that were left were familiars. They walked over towards the cloaked Scout Trooper. Slow panic, a couple of screams, and yelling could be heard as the new batch began to realize the ground they were standing on may not be entirely ground, but corpses.

“Of course we’re cursed with these frigid missions. You’d think they’d send us somewhere warm by now!”, TK-3232 the Flame Trooper spoke loudly.

“Careful what you wish for, before you know it they’ll send us back into the dessert ahaha.” the Imperial Marine, TK-2142 chuckled.

“312” a simple deep loud tone boomed through the Shield Trooper, MB-1782 who towered over CT-312.

Nodding back at the three, not realizing she had a small smile appear on her face underneath her helmet. It was always good to see a familiar face or Trooper. Especially in this desolate frigid planet. CT-312 wondered if they were given the same mission as well. Maybe the Game Master chose to send some insurance along with the new batch. Making sure the mission succeeded even if the new batch failed.

“Good to see you all are alive.” the cloaked Camo Scout Trooper expressed.
“Been a while since Woostri eh?” , nodding back.
“Woostri? Try Hoth. Right MB-1782, that ice cube of a planet!”, the Flame Trooper shouted
“That.” MB-1782 pointed at the spire reaching high above the blizzard swirling around them.

“Our mission objective. Let’s get to it” CT-312 simply responded. Unexpectedly, the three saluted and went to a new batch of Troopers. Herding them to the spire. As they near it, it became apparent that there were graves surrounding it. Giving off the impression that the dead were guarding this place from intruders. She realized, the air here was heavy and thick. Just like the empty facility that was filled with horrors on Hoth. Remembering the words of Commodore Helix during that mission. The Scout Trooper relayed in her private comms amongst the three, “Ignore any visual and auditory hallucination. Let the new batch figure things out themselves”.

"Seeing and hearing random stuff? Where did they send you guys?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know"

CT-312 reminded them of their first mission. What the Game Master said to all of them as they dropped drop pods on fellow Troopers, "Expect the unexpected."

Doors groaned as they opened. The wind screamed, couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside the tomb spire or if it was outside. The new Troopers stepped in first, all jittery and scared. CT-312 would let nature run its course. Watching from behind as caboose. The other three slowed their paces, waiting on her lead. “I was told we’ll be expecting company.” Waiting and checking to see if any others will be joining in before the decent to the unknown darkness.

“Sith Lords most likely. Haven’t had the pleasure of running into one yet”
“How can you tell?” questioned the Flame Trooper.
“If they don’t look like us. Then they’re a Sith Lord.”
“Deductive reasoning. I like it”
"Just don't get in their way"

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Crimson //:
//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: Attire //:

A Few Days Prior​

Allyson woke to another nightmare. They weren't the usual kind—faces of people she'd betrayed or watched die. No, these were different.

Sometimes, they were about Corellia, sometimes about her sister being alive in the galaxy. This particular dream had haunted her in fragments over the last few days. Allyson sat up, struggling to catch her breath. Resting a hand on her chest, she could still feel the lingering cold from the dream.

Allyson realized she didn't recognize the room as her eyes began to wake up. Her eyes darted around it until she recognized it as her own, though it didn't feel like home. It was rare for her to be here in her own bed. Something felt off.

The Corellian soon relaxed as her heart finally settled into its usual rhythm, and her breathing steadied. Beside her, a frustrated whine was muffled into the pillow. She wasn't alone. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a certain Minister, clearly unhappy that she'd woken at this hour. Allyson tilted her head with a sigh. Hesitantly, she threaded her fingers gently through the soft mess of blonde hair beside her. "I'm sorry, it was another one…"

Her free hand rubbed the base of her neck, the glyph that had appeared the previous night burning yet oddly cold at times. "I think this is connected; it burns every time," she whispered, fingers lightly tracing what felt like a fresh branding. Whatever was happening was clearly more than just a 'bad dream.' "Yeah, I gotta figure this out…" She started to move but was interrupted. "Hmm?"

Madelyn had made an attempt. Her hand rested gently on the Corellian's forearm, offering a brief moment of understanding and comfort. Allyson paused and accepted the gesture for what it was until an annoyed huff signaled the moment had passed and it was time to try sleeping again.

---

Odacer-Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf
Still some ways away from the others​

The crunch of snow beneath her boots was a sound Allyson hadn't wanted to hear again anytime soon. Hoth felt far too recent for her liking. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she remembered the Commonwealth agent's offer. She could secure a full First Order uniform if she really wanted to. The amusing thought gave Allyson a sudden pep as they pressed onward.

Their objective was clear: find the gate she'd seen repeatedly in her dreams. Just thinking of it made the small brand on her neck burn, an undeniable indicator that everything was connected. But why was she receiving these visions? She was just some silly Corellian with a bow, and her role was minimal compared to figures like Empyrean, Taeli, or even Valery Noble. The more she thought about these dreams, the less sense they made.

The snowy terrain grew more predictable as they continued down their current path, each step fitting into prints seemingly made long ago. Instinct told Allyson they were on the right track, but something else warned her they weren't alone. She was starting to regret bringing the Minister along. Going on a suicidal mission herself was one thing, but risking someone she cared about was entirely another. Still, she knew better than anyone: once Madelyn Lowe decided, there was no change.

Madelyn had seemed unusually determined to accompany her. Allyson briefly wondered if that awkward moment of comfort she'd offered had contributed to her decision.

Pausing, Allyson remembered Madelyn couldn't use the Force to keep herself warm. It was a basic skill Jyoti had drilled into her relentlessly when she was younger. She stopped and turned back toward the blonde woman who had surprised her by insisting on joining her.

"You could've stayed on the ship," Allyson reminded the Varonati gently. "It's pretty cold here." Allyson paused and tilted her head. "I don't know how well you're managing in that survival gear." Allyson gave Madelyn a playful thumbs-up and then a thumbs-down, indicating that a gesture alone would suffice as an answer.

The chill ran deep, settling into Allyson's bones, but they had to push forward further. If she had correctly interpreted her dreams, they were close. Still, if they needed to make camp, she was prepared. Allyson waited until Madelyn caught up before leaning closer, offering warmth through the Force by extending her hand slightly.

Something had been nagging at her the entire trip. Finally, she asked the question she'd been holding back, "Why did you want to come?" as she asked, Allyson couldn't hide the small smile that appeared. Though the worry lingered, she was genuinely glad not to deal with this alone.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled, but—" She stopped, staying close, reaching out gently with the warmth of the tapas she'd summoned. Allyson hesitated, suddenly vulnerable. "Yeah, I was just surprised," she finished softly. Realizing she'd let her guard down, she quickly covered the moment with sarcasm. "We're pretty far from the jungle you're used to," she teased quietly.

Spoiler: Tags

CT-312 Odrin Rath Commodore Helix

 

[The King in Red]

The wind screamed.

But it wasn't just the gale anymore.

As the last of the new batch stepped into the spire's mouth—some with rifles shaking in their grips, others pale beneath their helmets—something shifted. Not in the storm, not in the snow… but in the air itself. A change in pressure. A subtle tug, like gravity itself leaning sideways.

CT-312 would feel it first. A ripple through the ice beneath her boots—no tremor, just a sensation, like standing atop a heartbeat. The spire was not dormant. It never had been.

Behind them, the whine of repulsorlifts did not fade with distance. A new ship descended. Not one of theirs.

It came down slow, silent, a sleek arrowhead of dark alloy untouched by frost. No insignia. No landing lights. Just the hiss of steam as its belly opened to the white.

From it emerged a figure. Robes that bled into the snow until they caught the dim red gleam of a plasma torch igniting from their belt—not drawn, but alive. The figure didn't move with the rigid posture of a soldier. They drifted forward like a shadow cast before the flame. No visible breath escaped the mask they wore. No name was spoken.

The veterans would know. You felt a Sith Lord before you saw one. And this one had eyes you could not see—but still felt on your skin, like coals pressed to flesh.

The figure halted just before the entrance of the spire. One hand touched the frozen wall. Ice crackled, pulled back like an obedient curtain. The door was wider now.

CT-312's comm sparked with static before clearing. A voice—smooth, modulated, and without haste—slid through:

"You may proceed, Commander. I will walk among your dead… and see which still have use."

Then silence. The figure waited, letting the blizzard cloak them once again. Whether they were to follow behind or move ahead was left unsaid.

Just a presence. Like a blade left half-drawn. Waiting for someone else to decide if it would be used.

CT-312

 

[Mordecai Zambrano]

CT-312 | The King in Red​

This was awful.

Frigid winds that cut though zeyd-cloth, a sky blackened by hellish clouds, and an ethereal, murky pull that called out to Mordecai like summons to a grim feast. He would've been well justified to complain about such an assignment, but frustration simply welled within the unfortunate 'volunteer.' Too frozen for his cold-blooded companion and a task too complex to bring the full weight of legions to bear.

Each ice-crunching footstep was enough to make wearied joints creak. A hike in such a desolate tundra was hardly the fashionable route to the scene but bereft of all the risks. The stealth lander that had deposited Mordecai was surely long gone now, leaving the thickly cloaked Sith Lord to journey through knee-high snow alone.

Mordecai recalled the visions as he marched on, clutching robes tighter as moisture in his beard froze solid. Sights of crimson fissures erupting along the earth, cadavers clad in ancient battle armor, and a grave sense of unease. It would've been one thing had the nightmare been his alone - but it wasn't. Close confidants and Praetorians mentioned seeing things in their slumber, and even Carly remarked about frozen over laboratories and skeletal figures.

A threat to the Empire was a threat to his family, his way of life. That would not do.

The spire itself eventually came into view, along with a stretch of sparse silhouettes that rimed its entrance. Despite the burn of muscles in his thighs, Mordecai carried forth, warmed only by a pumping heart and the fury of a soul. The Sith Lord closed the distance with surprising haste, exhaling plumes of breath that distorted the snow whipping through the air.

A motley of troopers was easily recognizable, and with them came a strange sense of comfort. Soldiers and warriors - Mordecai was fond of them, easy to understand and get along with.

The other, however, made Mordecai frown deeply. A robed figure that caused his nostrils to flare in disgust, almost recoiling at the stench of sin. An unknown. A figure he was not familiar with, and no name that could be called to his tongue. Distrust bled into his veins; brows furrowed.

Mordecai turned to the troopers instead. "Good to see you." A snow-flecked head cocked towards the entrance. "Let's get this over with."

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Crimson Wake,
With Allyson Locke
Wearing
​

The path ahead was barely visible through the white fog of ice crystals which concealed the treacherous frozen landscape around her, but Madelyn had no need to navigate. She followed the dark figure of Allyson closely, stepping exactly where the agent did, not daring to take her eyes off her back lest she slip and get left behind, or stumble off the path and into a crevasse. It was an irrational fear, but the merciless cold, the roar of the wind and the dull sameness of the landscape stoked her anxiety fiercely. She just had to stay with Allyson, she told herself. Just stay with Allyson.

Even without the fear of an untimely death, the march was a miserable one. She had dressed in layers of white and cream gear. Thermals and gloves and jackets and furs, so covered up that she more resembled an ambling alien than the lithe Minister of Order hidden beneath. All the clothing felt suffocating, especially the facemask, but she tolerated it, because the alternative was to freeze to death. What an awful place.

Madelyn held her commlink to her face, muffled words struggling to be heard above the wind.

"I cannot believe this was my idea." said Madelyn.

Trudging through the snow to catch up to Allyson, Madelyn took the Corellian's offered hands, enjoying the sensation of warmth that flowed through her. Madelyn thought about the poor decision-making that had brought her here. The moment of weakness in Allyson's apartment, awkwardly placing her arm around her, and the hushed urgent conversation that had followed. It was the straw that broke the bantha's back, the revelation about her Allyson's visions, their familiar echoes in her own nightmares, but with a personal twist for Allyson. And then there was the runic symbol on her lover's neck. That had caused concern to twist in her stomach. So it was that when the call came out across the Empire to investigate the unraveling of the Galaxy's fabric, Madelyn put her hand up to accompany her agent.

"I don't know how well you're managing in that survival gear."

"What do you mean? I'm a natural." said Madelyn. She tried to give Allyson a thumbs up, but it was barely recognisable beneath her gloves and mittens. "Yeah okay it sucks."

It was a strange position to find herself in, being the follower, rather than the leader. Already it had taken a great deal of swallowing of her pride to make it this far. Allyson seemed to be relishing the power, though beneath her teasing Madelyn could tell she was grateful to have her there. Though now that her teeth were chattering and the cold had seeped through all her furry layers into her bones, Madelyn couldn't really say the same.

But she'd do it for her. Why? She wasn't certain. It couldn't be explained by her just finding Allyson an amusement, not anymore. Instead, Madelyn just pushed the uncomfortable thought aside. She was there. Allyson was glad. Good enough.

"Why did you want to come?"

"It seemed important." Madelyn said cryptically. Of course she meant that it was important to Allyson, but then she added. "For the Empire's security." Nice save, Madelyn thought to herself, shaking her head. She was really off her game today.

"We're pretty far from the jungle you're used to,"

"I'd give just about anything to be having a drink at home right now." Madelyn agreed. "With you." she added, after a moment, her facemask thankfully hiding her expression. "We have far to go? I'm sick of walking." she complained. She should have been on Karath Station, representing her Empire. Instead, she was here, representing her not-girlfriend. When had she become so weak-willed? No matter, she was here now, she'd do her part.

 

[Odrin Rath]

CHAPTER II: CRIMSON WAKE

Equipment: Lightsaber & Armor
Assets: Starship
Tags: CT-312 Mordecai Zambrano The King in Red

The vision had been chilling. Not particularly because of its contents but because it was out of his control. He could feel how unnatural its manifestation was. Felt how wrong its delivery had been. It made his skin crawl and left him with unanswered questions. Even now, the faint mark on his hand, beneath his armored glove, refused to dissipate.

The snow and wind mixed together to throw snowflakes into his beard and onto his protective crimson cloak as Odrin's towering frame exited the shuttle. His heavy, armored boots clanking down the metal ramp before mushing into the snow. A blank white canvas filled with ruins and those long dead. The planet was eerie, even for Sith standards. Odrin caught himself as he almost tripped in the snow, a lone stone hidden beneath.

Fucking Hoth all over again.

Odrin adjusted the white fur wampa skin across his shoulders, a prize earned from that snowy world. The only trophy he was able to claim. He did not know if he was lucky in that regard or not, having heard what went down on other objectives.

Either way, Odrin stalked the deep snow as he approached the entrance to whatever Force forsaken building they were told to crawl through this time. The aura of nearby sentients tugged on his senses before he spotted them. One...made his skin crawl. Just like the vision of blood he experienced some nights ago. Odrin avoided it, sweeping around it as if it held some new alien pox he did not wish to contract.

Then he locked eyes onto a somewhat familiar sight, a fellow Epicanthix of no doubt Kainite loyalties. Now that, he could identify with. A small smile appearing on his face as he approached the man standing before a group of Troopers. Another group he could identify with having been a soldier himself before being trained Sith. Hell, he'd argue he preferred Legionnaires over Sith. Most of his 'fellow' Sith were too caught up in their power plays and political ambitions to appease Odrin's vision for the Empire.

Always the loyal soldier first, eh Od?

Pushing that thought out of his mind, Odrin approached the fellow Sith and the gathering squad of Troopers as he studied their surroundings and planned a way forward with tactical acuity. He towered above these Troopers but held no ill will nor did he feel himself superior to them. Even though he was. He quickly identified the trooper standing out, wearing a completely different shade of camo than to the white ball they found themselves on.

Odrin raised a brow in amused wonderment but said nothing as he silently integrated himself.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Crimson //:
//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: Attire //:

Like Madelyn, Allyson did her best to deny any affection toward the Minister. They were coworkers, professionals who occasionally met after hours to discuss matters vital to the Empire. Sometimes, these meetings stretched long into the evening, but only when absolutely necessary—or so they convinced themselves. Allyson noted the subtle emphasis Madelyn placed on the Empire as the reason for her presence. The Corellian's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, careful not to fully reveal just how perceptive she truly was.

"Of course, the Empire is your highest priority, Minister Lowe," Allyson quipped gently, interrupting Madelyn before she could finish. She nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion of drinks someplace warmer, but it was the quiet addition—with you—that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Allyson paused, feeling the warmth rising to her face despite the cold. Clearing her throat, she struggled for a witty reply, wanting to deflect the sudden embarrassment.

Thankfully, Madelyn's complaints grounded her again. "I'm honestly not sure," Allyson admitted, returning a bashful smile of her own. She was just as uncertain as Madelyn. "But it feels close. The stupid thing on my neck is starting to burn again, and with every step, it gets worse." She shrugged lightly. "Part of me is grateful it's cold—at least my neck isn't literally on fire."

Allyson carefully glanced over her shoulder, confirming they were still alone amidst the stark whiteness. She slowly unzipped the first few layers of Madelyn's cocoon-like jackets with care. "Trust me," she whispered, close enough that Madelyn would easily hear her. Allyson carefully positioned herself to block the gusts that would inevitably rush in as she opened the layers of clothing.

Slowly, she slipped her arms around Madelyn's waist, pulling her into an embrace. Allyson radiated warmth generated by the Force, becoming a furnace against the brutality of the cold. They shared enough heat to ease the chill, if only for a moment.

"Let's just stay here a second so we can let your feet rest, then get going, okay?" Allyson whispered softly as she rested her head beneath Madelyn's chin, enjoying this more than she should.

While they stood close and wrapped together, Allyson allowed her eyes to wander cautiously. She was mindful not to let her imagination drift to places that would surely earn her a playful reprimand from the blonde. Then, a shadow caught her attention through the snow. It was a frozen hand barely visible through the ice. Allyson's brow furrowed slightly as she realized more corpses were emerging, disturbed by the wind.

Swiftly, she pulled away, immediately zipping Madelyn's layers tight, sealing the warmth she'd shared safely inside.

"We need to go now," Allyson said firmly.

"Don't look down, don't look up; just keep your eyes fixed on the back of my head." The Corellian's hand found Madelyn's quickly. Allyson focused on what was ahead, guided only by the searing sensation at her neck. She was determined not to linger on the frozen remains around them.

"Maddie, just—" Her voice faltered but soon steadied herself, with reassurance Allyson hoped sounded stronger than she felt.

"Just promise me you'll listen to whatever I say, no matter what we face, alright?" she said, looking briefly over her shoulder; Allyson's gaze softened with unmistakable tenderness.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Spoiler: Tags

CT-312 Mordecai Zambrano Odrin Rath The King in Red

 

[CT-312]

//: Mordecai Zambrano Odrin Rath The King in Red | OPEN | //:
//: Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf//:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: IQA-11 , LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Objective II | Crimson Wake//:​

An invisible tug pulled CT-312’s attention back to the icy planes from the stone entrance of the spire. As quickly the ship came, it left. Only a single figure was left behind. The snow and ice did not hinder their movement, it was effortless as they made their way to the entrance of the spire. In front of CT-312, this Sith Lord wore long robes that covered their whole figure and a mask, concealing their identity. Watching as one hand reached out, touching the half open frozen door, easily opening it fully. Sounds of ice cracking and stone sliding echoed into the dark spiraling staircase. Despite not looking towards her direction, CT-312 could feel eyes watching her every movement.

"You may proceed, Commander. I will walk among your dead… and see which still have use."

‘Commander?’, looking at the three veteran Troopers with her by the door. They all nodded towards her. Shrugging, the Scout Trooper was about to step in. Stopping. A small pull caught CT-312’s attention. Quickly turning her visor to the outside again, two more figures appeared by the entrance. Both standing taller than her 5’5 self. ‘More Sith Lords’. A 6‘8 armored hulking frame, draped with white fur wampa skin across his massive shoulders. The Lord didn’t need to speak, the silence spoke volumes of the authority he commanded. Next to him stood a 6’3 middle-aged solid framed Lord, slightly smaller compared to the sturdy giant.

"Good to see you." A snow-flecked head cocked towards the entrance. "Let's get this over with."

CT-312 caught MB-1782, TK-3232, and TK-2124 snapping at attention. Giving an imperial salute to the Sith Lords that stood in front, in unison saying “My Lords.”. Mimicking the Troopers actions, bowing her head deeply. “My Lords.”, Relaying the status of the Troopers. “CT-312 reporting for duty.” raising her head up, “We currently have a batch of Troopers insi-”

Some panic screams could be heard echoing up from darkness engulfed spiraling stone staircase. Multiple footsteps advancing towards CT-312 and the other Troopers. Emerging from the void were six recruits screaming and yelling. Making a break for the entrance, trying to escape into the frozen wasteland. MB-1782 shield bashed one of the running recruits, grabbing the other by the neck. The Flame and Marine Trooper grabbed one each, restraining them. One of the remaining two recruits ran past CT-312. Reaching at the back of her belt, pulling out a vibroblade knife. With a flick of her wrist the blade shot forward, whistling through the air before burying itself into the back of the running Trooper. Watching the recruit collapse to the ground, she casually walked up to the struggling body. The last remaining escaping recruit passed by her, running further into the snowy planes. Gripping the knife embedded in the back, twisting it before pulling. The recruit’s body jerked one final time, becoming lifeless. Wiping the blood off the knife and storing it away, CT-312 made her way back to the Sith Lords and Troopers. Irritated. The Game Master’s second objective echoed in her mind. ‘Evaluate, eliminate, and don’t embarrass yourself’. These new mix matched recruits were soft. An embarrassment.

“Take these four outside”, spoken calmly yet sharply with each word foreshadowing what’s to come.

“What about that one?”, the veteran Troopers dragged out the AWOL recruits back in a snowy storm. Lining them up, holding them at gunpoint.

CT-312 lifted her IQA-11 sniper rifle. Taking aim at the retreating figure. Exhaling, pulling the trigger. A single shot was heard. Echoing. The running recruit’s body dropped dead into the snow. Putting away the rifle. “What one.” stating with a deadpan tone. Looking at the lined up AWOL recruits, one of them snapped, shouting “We aren't equipped for this! There's something in there!”

“Yes. The mission.”, turning her back on the frightened recruits who thought running away would be the better option. Subtly shaking her head, ‘A disgrace.’

“Cowards.”, said in disgust by the Shield Trooper.
“I can light up some courage real quick” , The Flame Trooper eagerly commented.
“I’ll handle it. You can go on ahead.”, stating firmly from the Marine Trooper.

Tapping on TK-2142’s shoulder. The Marine Trooper nodded back. Ready to take aim. Waiting for the Sith Lords and the remaining Troopers to leave the execution site. Some of the Troopers shouted, begging for the Sith Lords to be given second chances or to be freed. Only to be met with the butt of the rifle from TK-2142. Silencing them.

“My apologies, my Lords. We’re currently going through a reconstruction program for some of the misfit Troopers.” The four bowed their heads in apology. Hopefully this unsightly sight wouldn't invoke the wrath of these three Sith Lords upon the whole group of Troopers. Better to quickly get on with the mission. “As I was saying before. There are other Troopers ahead waiting.” Swiftly, CT-312 took point. Entering the pitch darkness. Following the stone spiral staircase. While taking ascent, there were silhouettes casted on the walls. Giving the empty spire some kind of presence of its once inhabitants. Finally reaching a room with the remaining recruits. The numbers were lower. It seems a handful decided to explore other areas. The ones remaining in the room, whispered amongst themselves as to why they were in an oversized graveyard on this frozen planet of death.

Analyzing the room, the holotables suddenly flickered alive. Catching CT-312’s attention. All the Troopers in the room stared at what was being shown. A Triangle-and-line glyph appeared, overlapping a subterranean schematic. “Vault A-9” flashing. Studying where this vault’s direct location was at. A heated pulsing sensation ebbed at her right temple. Shutting her eye briefly, as if it’ll ease the pain. ‘Freaken stress headache.’ , she grumbled. Vexed at the entirety of the situation. Taking a deep breathe, CT-312 cautiously approached the Sith Lords. Knowing full well, these Lords could kill all of them with a single flick of the wrist. "My Lords. Has Command provided a designation profile for Vault A-9? Any idea what we may be doing here or specifically looking for?"

Radio communications went off. It was the public frequency. Screaming could be heard. The recruits that went off to explore on their own relaying what may seem to be their final moments.

BBbbzzz....."HELP! We're stuck-".…bzzz....."I repeat-"...Bbbzzz...."Fissures, random geysers-"...bbbzzztt... "Carbonite-"....ztttt...."HEL-"

Spoiler: Tags

Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Crimson Wake,
With Allyson Locke ,
Allies: CT-312 | Mordecai Zambrano | Odrin Rath | The King in Red ,
Wearing
​

Allyson slowed to a stop as the path levelled out to a field of scattered rocks, slightly more sheltered from the snowstorm than the high path they had come from, and Madelyn huffed irritably.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Madelyn.

Madelyn wriggled slightly when Madelyn first grabbed her, reluctant to be waylaid after Allyson had said they were close, and she was especially resistant after Allyson began unclasping layers of her snow protection, letting the awful frigid air get that much closer to her skin. But Allyson had said to trust her, so Madelyn did not push her aside. She was glad she didn't, for the moment Allyson tucked her strong body against Madelyn's, she felt warmth coursing through her, no doubt conjured by Allyson through her mastery of the Force. Impressive.

Madelyn laid her head on the Corellian's. She was like her own personal radiator, pleasant but never too hot, warming Madelyn to her core. Despite the grim setting, Madelyn felt herself beginning to relax in her arms. They were alone on the trail, the rest of their party already up ahead. Why not allow a moment of comfort, away from prying eyes? She even closed her eyes, though she resisted the urge to plant a little kiss on Allyson's forehead, though she was sure at this moment her loyal agent wouldn't resist it. The ridiculousness of that thought pushed her back into the reality of the present moment, standing wrapped around her inferior in a snowstorm. Madelyn had only just begun to unwind her arms from around Allyson when she felt Allyson suddenly retreated. Madelyn frowned, had she read her hesitation that clearly? But no, Allyson's eyes were not trained on her. Instead, they darted around, and when she spoke her voice was frantic.

"We need to go now."

Madelyn's stomach dropped. Allyson had never used this tone with her before, and she found herself dutifully following her instructions, sliding into place behind her, eyes fixed on the bobbing brunette ponytail in front, listening to reassurances Allyson clearly didn't believe herself. Whatever endangered them out here was horrific. But Allyson was her lifeline, and in this part of the job she was far more experienced than Madelyn, so she would follow her instructions to the letter.

"I trust you." said Madelyn gently. "Just take us out of here, I'm right behind you."

Then, she almost stepped on a frozen hand, its stiff digits reaching towards the sky. She suppressed a yelp of surprise and broke her gaze from Allyson. She looked around carefully and finally noticing what Allyson had seen, that the rocks strewn about the snowfield around them were not rocks at all, but peeking limbs and grasping fingers, already struggling to free themselves from their icy tombs. Madelyn's skin crawled and her stomach churned. She was unable to hide the disgust on her face. Let the Sith stick to their own business next time, Madelyn. she thought to herself.

She had seen troopers disembarking the landing vessel. Misfits and runts all of them. But, right now they represented safety. If they could make it to the spire, then the troopers and their Sith masters could eliminate the fetid frozen bodies shambling after them, or at the very least, provide an ample distraction.

"Allyson." said Madelyn. "We should get to the others quickly, before this lot pick us off alone."

 

[Kalðr Ísbjørn]

---

Kalðr Ísbjørn had been raised on Hoth. Even without his sealed armor, this cold would have been nothing to him. In fact, the Mandalorian loved the cold and absolutely hated hot planets. Even his very armor radiated with frost to match the outside temperature. And it was all done with science and technology, not any of that damn sorcery. It's like being back home. Kestri was nice too. Nice and cold, though nowhere near this cold. And honestly, Mandalore was just too damn hot.

The trek to the looming vault was rather uneventful, which he found rather disappointing. He had passed a few frozen bodies, sure, but they were already dead and obviously couldn't fight. Not that he was here for a fight, but no Mandalorian would turn one down if it presented itself. He had also passed two women who seemed rather... preoccupied. He was sure they had not noticed him, as much as he blended in with the ice and snow. He still gave them a wide birth to avoid them. They certainly looked like they wanted some privacy.

As he approched the vault, he heard a radio over open lines.

BBbbzzz....."HELP! We're stuck-".…bzzz....."I repeat-"...Bbbzzz...."Fissures, random geysers-"...bbbzzztt... "Carbonite-"....ztttt...."HEL-"

The massive man grinned underneath his helmet. He laughed as he joked to himself, "Sounds like an ice party to attend!"

Spoiler: Equipment

Armor: Htagir'Jorir | Kalðr Ísbjørn's Beskar'gam w/ENCL-JR5 Striking Falcon Jetpack & PMP-7 "Icharus" Gravpack
Weapons: G'ahycaya | Kalðr Ísbjørn's Beskad - Ciryc'saca | Kalðr Ísbjørn's Slugthrower Revolver - Htagir'karyatr | "Ice Hammer" - Htagir'senaar Whistling Birds
KSTR-28 Foremund Sniper Rifle - KSTR-24 Dvalin Blaster Rifle - KSTR-26 Perudin Blast Cannon - ENCL-43 Kayaur Heavy Blaster Cannon
Items: AXC (x3) - CryoBan Grenade (x12) - Power Packs (x7) - Slugs (Grulyr'bedtr CryoSlugs: x312) - Ration Packs (x5 Days)​

---

TAGS: OPEN

 

[The King in Red]

The spire had no name in the records—just coordinates and a warning. Even that felt like a kindness in hindsight. Now, with the storm shrieking across the Silent Meridian Shelf, dozens of figures had braved the descent and found its breach. Not all entered together. Some came in staggered waves: soldiers from forgotten legions, agents haunted by visions, Sith Lords drawn by the pull of prophecy, and lovers whose warmth could not hold back the cold.

CT-312 stood as the axis around which the chaos briefly stabilized, her veterans fanning out with mechanical precision while raw recruits snapped under pressure. One ran. She made an example of him. Others cowered, begging the Sith Lords for mercy. They received none. And still the mission pulled onward, the glyph flashing across holotables and map-readouts like a pulse—Vault A-9. Down. Always down.

Allyson Locke and Madelyn Lowe arrived not far behind, worn by the trek but sharpened by shared purpose. The Corellian's glyph flared with every step, burning colder than the ice. Their breath fogged the visor glass. A frozen hand cracked through the snow beside them. They didn't linger. There was no safety out here, no promises. Just the wind, and its needling whispers: faster. deeper. now.

Mordecai Zambrano and Odrin Rath joined next, their steps carving authority through snowbanks and silence alike. The troopers straightened at their presence. Even the blizzard seemed to hesitate. Between them and the others, a strange figure had arrived first, black-robed and wordless, more shadow than shape. They had opened the vault with a single touch—and now waited within, a match poised just above kindling.

Inside, the structure pulsed with impossible architecture. Hallways curved where they should not. Reflections flickered one frame too late. The Crimson Vault was not merely a relic—it was an ecosystem. Carbonite graves lined its walls in serried rows, some twitching subtly, others empty altogether. And through the air, thick with frost and static, came that same beat all had dreamed: thump-thump… thump-thump…

The Vault is open now.

Factions may choose their path—by torchlight, by mag-hammer, by rune or rifle. Some may race for the schematic, the heart chamber where the Cauterizer waits. Others may divert, drawn toward flickers of Force echoes that ripple through side corridors. No matter your method, no matter your banner, the Vault watches. It remembers your steps. It knows your secrets.

One by one, the expedition presses forward into the dark. Past the murmuring sarcophagi. Past the shifting stairs. Into the deep thrum of a wound that is still bleeding—still open.

And somewhere far beneath, the Crimson Cauterizer begins to stir.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Crimson Vault //:
//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: CT-312 //: Mordecai Zambrano //: Odrin Rath //: Kalðr Ísbjørn //:
//: attire //:

Allyson hated that the few words that the woman spoke were enough to continue the previous blush. Silently, the Corellian scolded herself as they ran towards what felt like the right way. A man had passed them previously, and Allyson wondered if he had seen the corpses strewn in the snow. Looking back to say something to the Minister, Allyson saw the handful of shambling corpses wandering their way. They seemed to have been animated by something.

Without thinking twice, Allyson pulled Madelyn behind her and drew the bow from her back in the same fluid motion. Before drawing an arrow, the Corellian slid the eyepatch off her eye. There wasn't enough time to carefully place it in her pocket; the leather patch would be lost today. Three energy bolts appeared on the taut sharing as she drew it back. Three blinks, and she activated the targeting system of the eye, which hummed in sync with the bow.

The three arrows released as her gloved fingers let go of the string. The bolts split further, each driving into the skulls of the undead. Almost instantly, the small horde following them collapsed, and Allyson sighed with temporary relief. The weapon stowed back onto her back, and their eyes met briefly. It dawned on Allyson that Madelyn hadn't been privy to any of her acts as a Spy. They were words and stories, but seeing the Corellian perhaps made the danger she brought real.

"That should take care of that." Allyson smiled as she retook the woman's hand and led her toward the faint gunshots that soon rang out. Pausing, Allyson frowned; already, things were getting messy. Slowly, Allyson's footsteps disappeared as she guided Madelyn toward the noise.

As they rounded the ridge, the aftermath of the insubordinate troopers showed what had happened. Allyson continued to frown. Why were these troopers executed? Allyson reminded herself that this was the Empire. Looking at Madelyn, she figured the woman had seen stuff like this. However, she still took precautions and guided her through the carnage, hoping to shield her as much as possible.

"The gateway is there," Allyson's voice whispered, gritting through her teeth. The closer they drew to the gate, the more the pain in her neck grew. Allyson always moved first, holding on to Madelyn as she pulled her through. Looking back to the Minister, she held a finger to her lip, indicating they needed to be quiet. The echo of voices and footsteps lay ahead.

Inside, Allyson felt the temperature change. They were no longer in the frozen tundra, but she still paused for a moment as they climbed the steps towards the voices. "Are you okay?" she asked, mostly trying to ensure that Madelyn was alright, even though things had been messy getting here. She would wait for her answer, and the pair would slowly continue.

Each step of the run burned the woman's neck, but as she stepped towards the room where everyone had gathered, the vault made itself known. The thumping felt like the entire place was alive, breathing, and watching. Allyson stepped into the room and kept Madelyn behind her in case they were hostile.

"Hello," she greeted them as the vault opened up for them. "Allyson," she started and began to settle into the rear of the group. A hand motioned towards the bundled entity next to her: "This is Minister Lowe. We're both with the Empire—" The introductions were quick. Still, they were enough to hopefully get them latched onto the right faction's group.

Stars forbid she got stuck with Jedi.

"Guess it's time to figure things out?" Allyson joked as she pulled at the fabric around her neck. The brand was getting annoying. She motioned for Madelyn to follow, but to move in front of her. Keeping the woman in the middle of the group of Sith was safer than her wandering the back behind Allyson.

She was cautious. Allyson remembered the troopers at the gate; they wouldn't be afraid to turn on allies if something happened.

 

[Mordecai Zambrano]

CT-312 | Madelyn Lowe | Odrin Rath | Allyson Locke | The King in Red | Kalðr Ísbjørn​

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of it his gut, roiling. He didn't like this - at all.

Far too many unknowns. Ethereal Lords cloaked in shadows, upstart Knights that towered in stature, a band of mismatched troopers, and even more interlopers joined the fray. A flurry of motion and panicked shouting from the spire itself drew every gaze, with the troopers taking the initiative to handle their brethren in the only way they knew: with no mercy.

Mordecai didn't flinch as the crack of rifle butts smashed into plastoid helmets, but his frown did deepen. Wasteful.

As comlinks crackled with pleas of help from inside the spire, Mordecai cast a squinted gaze to the rear. Back towards the tundra stretching towards the horizon, eyeing a pair of silhouettes that drew nearer until the shivering figures of two women formed. But something else caught his eye. Further past the torrent of snow-chocked wind; more and more human-sized figures. Almost standing still... until Mordecai blinked and he got the feeling they were somewhat closer.

"Inside. Let's go." He cast a furtive. knowing glance to the taller Sith. The troopers didn't need to be told anything, already pouring into the spire.

Feeling surprisingly chivalrous, Mordecai lingered until both of the women passed him and into the spire, eyes ever on the horizon. Alone for the briefest time since he'd arrived, a gloved hand tugged a comlink from his own pocket. A thumb on the receiver and a flashing indicator on the display: // HIGH LATENCY -- SIGNAL POOR //

"Brute, it's me. Triangulate this transmission if you can. Track the last shuttle's landing zone in the Silent Meridian, on the polar shelf." He paused. "Bring what you've got immediately."

He turned to follow the rest of the group with haste.

Once inside, he tugged his hood down to exhale sharply, combing fingers through snow-flecked locks. "We're being pursued." He stated unceremoniously. "So, either we head deeper into the spire or remain to engage whatever is following us."
Chuffed as ever, Mordecai acknowledged both Allyson and Madelyn with a nod. "There is no mission here. I assume you all had the same... dreams, or visions, about this place. Same as me. We investigate and recover anything of interest and then destroy anything else."

 

[Kalðr Ísbjørn]

---

Frozen flesh crunched and flew as Kalðr Ísbjørn crushed the head of one of the frost zombies in his hand. Chunks of red and green ice lay scattered about as he replaced his hammer amongst his other weapons underneath the giant snow bear cloak that covered him. He had allowed the two women to pass him on the way to the spire so he could deal with some of the horde. Some, not all. He was kind enough to let the Sith enjoy some of the fun as well. He made his way toward the entrance and ducked inside just in time to hear someone say:

"So, either we head deeper into the spire or remain to engage whatever is following us."

"If you're taking about me, I wouldn't recommend it. If you mean the chill-bones out there, I made sure to leave you some. You're welcome." He walked past the men and up to the holotables. Hmm... He took out a datachip and downloaded the information. He had no use for it, but perhaps one of the eggheads would. It was worth a shot, at least. The massive 2.15-meter tall Mandalorian and to the spiral stairs leading. "How archaic." He jumped down the center of them, the quickest way to descend.

He landed hard with several cracks and crunches of frozen bones and flesh giving from the impact. If any of those poor sods had still been alive, they definitely weren't now, but neither were the zombies. Though, Kalðr supposed they had not been alive for a long, long time. Either way, they weren't moving. He moved along the corridor, taking out his warhammer and smashing any of the carbonite tombs he came across, just in case.

---

TAGS: OPEN
Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe CT-312 Odrin Rath Mordecai Zambrano The King in Red

 

[Lirka Ka]

When the word had reached Lirka's receptors that they were to be sent to a vault of all things on Odacer-Faustin, her interest had been piqued all but immediately. For many of her Sithling foes, their bout on Hoth remained a sore memory of the great many mystical malign forces that plagued the Sith in their recent endeavors. But Lirka Ka had rubbed shoulders long enough with the likes of the dear Commodore Helix to know one thing: vaults meant good looting. Especially with the mad-dash across the Galaxy in the wake of the chaotic dawn of galactic sundering.

Yet, did Lirka Ka arrive in the shadow cast by the arrival of the many warriors here today - an unfortunate recent trend for the Lash to be fashionably late. Still was her arrival heralded by horrible, pitiful, scuttling things in the shadows draped in dark cloaks to obscure whatever laid beneath. A field test. An extension. Eyes and ears to watch out across the chaos and tell the Once-Sephi who now walked the dread path to this vault,

They watched, they listened, they died. Cast aside as the expendable extensions of her will, A meager parody of the Rhandite Pawns, but they served their purpose well enough. For they watched, and they saw a presence most unfortunate, presences most distracting, most frustrating.

Madelyn Lowe

Allyson Locke

Coworkers, by the official terms. Good servants of the Ministry of Order, like herself. Paragons of justice, order, or whatever other drivel the propaganda departments would spew out. The Minister, Lirka's "boss". And the supposed "greatest spy in the Galaxy" whom Lirka had found rather unpleasant - and untrustworthy. Yet, both were supposed to be her allies - if such a thing really existed in the Sith.

And there they stood, skulking no different than Lirka's menagerie. No different than the Once-Sephi herself, on some mission that she certainly hadn't been informed about. Something stirred in Lirka's hearts, a bubbling frustration. She gave the duo a wide berth as she trudged through the snow and ice, listening to the compression of the snow beneath her metal boots.

The cold bothered her little, she had a heater built into the suit after. Yet it was her rage that would keep her warm enough this time. She wished to hear their words, know what had been kept hidden. Know what could have possibly warranted Minister Lowe of all people to take the field. All Lirka could do was watch and think.

And what she saw repulsed her - albeit did not surprise her. She had come to expect such affections to be shared among those in the Sith's domain. Passion was a founding tenant, yet Lirka could not hide her revulsion at such...unholy things. It balked at the grim truths of the Primordial Dark, at least, that is what she'd tell herself. The soft warmth of affection was something Lirka could mimic, but not something she could ever truly feel. She had lost the ability to long ago now. It made it all the more frustrating that she could feel the bile of jealousy building up in her throat.

Jealous of what? She wasn't really even sure. Certainly not whatever...nonsense...they were getting up to. Yet, she was jealous all the same as the abyssal loneliness of her existence gnawed at the back of her head. And it frustrated her to no end, it was nigh enough for her to become untethered. The tantalizing prospect of something in this Galaxy that cared for you, it appealed to that meager scraps of humanity not yet cast aside in the Once-Sephi's being: and she hated it. She thought to her "children", the many dead and the one remaining no better than a rabid dog waiting for the chance to slip the knife in Lirka's throat when she finally mis-stepped. The ever leering presence of the Dyarchs who she knew would gladly replace her when her usefulness ran out. And the hateful eyes of the living and the dead that bored into her being at all possible moments. It clawed at her sanity, it threw tinder onto the fires of her wrath.

When the first hand burst from the ice, oh did Lirka welcome it. As did she every other that followed as these straggling things came to life around her, Lirka needed an outlet to unleash her wrath. While she would have preferred living, unlife would do just as well. The first head that appeared shattered beneath the might of a swinging metal fist, savage blows that held none of Lirka's usual "grace". She was a volcano, one that had finally burst in a spray of flaming lava in this icy hellscape. From her helm came a roar of pure, maddened, frustration across the horizon like a thunderclap.

The vault would have to wait for now. For Lirka didn't even care as the duo whom she had shadowed grew more and more distant. All she wanted to do for now was wallow in a mixture of loathsome self-pity and extreme violence. The snow made for a nice place to let off steam, and oh how nicely did this creatures break beneath fist and blade.

It almost made her feel better. Almost.

 

[CT-312]

//: Mordecai Zambrano Odrin Rath The King in Red //:
//: Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Lirka Ka //:
//: Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf//:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: IQA-11 , LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Objective II | Crimson Wake//:​

Looking back at the holotable, eyes fixated on the flashing Vault A-9. Three kilometers southwest and ninety meters down. CT-312 sighed heavily. Annoyed. ‘Of course it’s down.’ after they climbed up. Her senses picked up, hearing faint foot steps coming closer along with another imaginary tug. Without taking her eyes off the map, aiming her gun at the entryway, the Troopers in the room soon followed the Camo Troopers actions. Aiming their weapons to the new figures that slowly entered in.

"Hello," she greeted them as the vault opened up for them. "Allyson," she started and began to settle into the rear of the group. A hand motioned towards the bundled entity next to her: "This is Minister Lowe. We're both with the Empire—"

Eyes still at the holotable. CT-312 kept analyzing the data. "Crimson Cauterizer" . Whatever that was, was down there. Slightly turning her head, inspecting the two figures. Dressed in… whatever Imperial garb. CT-312 couldn’t keep up with all the figures that kept showing up. Not knowing what to make of it. 'Just allies'. Seeing how the Sith Lords were unbothered. Lowering her weapon, the other Troopers followed suite. Muttering Troopers caught the Scout's attention. Some of the mix matched recruits eagerly went forth to offer their services of guarding to this ‘Minister Lowe’ and their… CT-312 didn’t know what to make of her. Escort? Feeling her head pulse more with burning sensations. Definitely stress.

"We're being pursued." He stated unceremoniously. "So, either we head deeper into the spire or remain to engage whatever is following us."
Chuffed as ever, Mordecai acknowledged both Allyson and Madelyn with a nod. "There is no mission here. I assume you all had the same... dreams, or visions, about this place. Same as me. We investigate and recover anything of interest and then destroy anything else."

“Yes Lord Mordecai. We need to go back down. Specifically three kilometers southwest and ninety meters down, that would be the Vault’s location. There's something called a Crimson Cauterizer. No other information other than that, my Lord.” Hearing his words of, Destroy? CT-312 smirked at the sound of that. She can most definitely do that. Her attention went to the unidentified figure that strolled in. Inserting a data chip at the holotable, exchanging brief words with the Lord before moving on. This mission was too odd for CT-312.

TK-2142 made her way over to the holotable as the unidentified figure did. Making a copy of the data before hustling back to the entrance. Handing the Scout Trooper the data chip. Pocketing the chip, CT-312 walked past the two women, Minister Lowe and Allyson. Along with the few recruits circling around them. Briefly halted, looking down at the spiraling stone staircase, into the darkness. She questioned the recruits who volunteered their services out loud. Wanting confirmation. “You chose this as your duty?” Meek responses of ‘yes’s’ were heard. “Hmm…”, That was all she needed. “TK-2142. MB-1782.”, the camo Scout Trooper continued making her way back down. The recruits who abandoned their primary duty would be handled later.

Both Troopers marched up the Minster and their Escort. Saluting. Planting themselves around the two. Easily picking up on the nervousness the recruits who decided to change their duty.

"Minister Lowe, TK-2142 reporting in." stated by the Marine Trooper.
The Shield Trooper spoke in a low booming tone, "MB-1782, reporting in"

As they all made it back to the ground floor, there was a familiar figure that CT-312 noticed through the door. Signaling her comms “Good to see you on the battlefield once more, Administrator.” Relaying the current findings to the warrior. It was indeed Hoth all over again. As they made their way further down. Nothing of the architecture made sense, it was as if their minds were playing tricks on them. A rhythmic thumping could be felt with all senses as they drew closer. Carbonite graves lined the walls with whatever contents inside giving off the illusion of twitching as others were empty. What horrors await for them down below?

Becoming hyper aware. CT-312 understood why the veteran Troopers were sent here along with her. This will not end well for the new batch of recruits. CT-312 drew her gun up, ready. Slowing her pace as the less cautious recruits walked passed her. Drifting towards the back of the group, tapping on TK-3232 shoulder pad. Signaling him with a hand gesture. ‘Eyes up. Head on swivel’. The Flame Trooper nodded back in acknowledgement, readying his weapon. Making her way back, CT-312 made brief visor contact with MB-1782 and TK-2142. Giving the same hand gesture signal to them both, nodding. They too kept their weapons at ready. Settling behind the group as caboose, the Scout Trooper subtly placed a few remote thermal detonators at areas that seemed to support the hallway’s structure. Keeping her guard up, she turned around every now and then, watching the group’s flank.

Finally reaching their destination. The Vault. Wide open. Darkness awaited them.

TK-3232 relayed in the comms “My lords, We’ve reached the vault.”

As the group entered, eyes that CT-312 felt constantly watching her from the unknown hooded Sith Lord could be felt from the whole Vault room itself. Something was watching. Throbbing and burning sensation occurred at the right front side of her head again. Everything in the Vault breathed life as the rhythmic thumping persisted.

Spoiler: Tags

Kalðr Ísbjørn

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Crimson Wake,
With Allyson Locke
Allies: CT-312 , Mordecai Zambrano , Odrin Rath , The King in Red , Lirka Ka , Kalðr Ísbjørn
Wearing
​

Someone passed Madelyn and Allyson as they shared their quiet embrace. A first, she thought it was nobody of consequence, a soldier travelling to the spire. Then, she caught a proper glimpse of the hulking figure, their dead-pink skin, their dark armour retreating into the snow as they stomped away.

"Was that Lirka Ka?" Madelyn asked, though she already knew it was. She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Well that is definitely going to be a problem later." If she knew anything about the loathesome creature that was Lirka, it was that she detested such affection, and displeasing the Lash of the Kainate, inferior or not, was a recipe for trouble.

As Lirka set upon the rising figures, smashing them to pieces, and then began simply to pound the snow itself with her fists, they skirted past, Madelyn giving Lirka a terse nod and a 'hello', while Allyson dispatched the last of the bodies with a few well placed arrows. Yes. They would certainly be paying for this down the line. But for now, their objective lay ahead.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." said Madelyn in answer, hurrying to join Allyson at the base of the spire where the rest of the party had gathered. She could tell by the tension in Allyson's shoulders and the slight wince that fought through the mask of her expression that she was in pain. She clearly did not want Madelyn to fuss, though, so she didn't. Instead she merely marched behind her until they were out of the blinding white and inside the cold chamber.

They hurried down towards the spire, more shambling corpses stumbling after them, but ultimately being left behind in the whiteout. When they crossed the threshold, Madelyn regarded the fallen bodies of the executed troopers dispassionately. She looked up at Allyson for a few moments, searching for a reaction but ultimately finding none. Acceptable.

Adjusting to the change in temperature, Madelyn cast her gaze over the gathered group. She gave respectful nods to the pair of Sith. The brother of the true emperor she recognised. The other she did not. No matter. Minister or not, Madelyn was lower on the pecking order than all the lords of their auspicious Order. The troopers, on the other hand, were but peons, and Madelyn largely ignored them until a pair came to join them.

"Good to have you with us, soldiers. The Emperor thanks you for your bravery today." Madelyn said to the pair, before leaning over to Allyson and whispering. "How come we got the runt squad?"

Nevertheless, the sound of boots clattering behind them on the stone steps as they followed the squad of troopers down the stairs to the vault was comforting. It was a long walk, and by the time the stone path levelled out, Madelyn was doing her best to hide the fact she was slightly red-faced and huffing. Something to add to the list of reasons never to do this again. When she had regained her breath, she cleared her throat and spoke, her voice echoing across the space around the stairwell and through the winding corridors.

"Excellent work leading us here, CT-312." said Madelyn. "Have your soldiers form up in front and ready their weapons. Let us retrieve this 'Crimson Cauteriser' in the name of our Empire."

 

[The King in Red]

The descent became a throat. Stone steps gave way to alloy plates slick with frost, and the farther the combined war-party pushed, the louder the pulse grew—no longer a distant thump-thump, but a visceral hammer reverberating through bone and armor. Behind them, the entrance sealed itself in a slow avalanche of ice dust; whatever waited outside would need to claw through meters of frozen debris to follow. Ahead, the staircase finally terminated at a circular transit hub lit by flickering crimson filaments. Three passages split the darkness:

• Left—Sub-Zero Pump Gallery: pipework shrieks with super-cold coolant; every forty seconds a valve vents vapor dense enough to crystalize exposed skin.
• Center—Processional Trench: a grand hallway lined by upright carbonite coffins, their front plates spider-cracked by recent stress. Gallows-quiet, save for the soft tapping that echoes from within the slabs.
• Right—Maintenance Spine: narrow, steep, and alive with blue sparks. A power conduit has ruptured, and static arcs dance like feral insects along the rails.

A holotable in the hub still answers CT-312's data spike; its schematic shows Vault A-9 directly beneath the Processional Trench, ninety meters down. Yet a new overlay blossoms—yellow hazard runes scrolling in ancient ur-Kittât: STASIS BREACH IMMINENT. Moments later a distant klaxon groans to life, low at first, then building into a dirge that rattles teeth.

From the hub's ceiling, flakes of carbonite drift like ash. Each flake carries a half-formed psychic memory—glimpses of laboratories submerged in red light, technicians arguing over a "lattice that drinks the Force," and a single order repeated in a dozen terrified tongues: contain or cauterize. Those who open themselves to the echoes may seize fragments of procedure… or inherit the panic that birthed them.

Then the first coffin fractures. A gaunt arm, armored in frost, claws free; a mouth opens in a silent scream, spewing vapor that smells of ozone and old blood. Ten meters farther, another slab buckles. The klaxon's pitch rises.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Crimson Vault //:
//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: CT-312 //: Mordecai Zambrano //: Odrin Rath //: Kalðr Ísbjørn //: The King in Red //:
//: attire //:

She was quickly addressed with a gun and by the Sith. One was met with raised hands, and the other nodded. It seemed they were all drawn here by the same dreams, these dark and painful visions. Allyson looked to Madelyn for a moment, wondering if the woman had been plagued by them, too. Their conversations had mostly been about what Allyson was experiencing, and a small sense of guilt settled in her chest.

From her knowledge, Madelyn didn't have one of the runic marks on her body like the Corellian. Thinking about it, it could hide only so many places, but even then. Allyson's train of thought snapped the moment they all started to move. There had been some discussion, but her mind wandering had prevented her from catching everything. She pretended like she always did, knew what she was doing, and followed quickly.

Once more, the Minister drew her attention, having mentioned Lirka. Initially, Allyson had shrugged; as large as Lirka was, the spy didn't pay her too much mind. Her attention and eyes were somewhere else, busy with other things with the Sephi's initial arrival. But as they passed the doorway again and Allyson could glimpse the dreadful creature, she leaned to Madelyn. She said, "Yeah, but I doubt she saw anything - I wouldn't worry about it." Allyson smiled to reassure Madelyn that she was worried about Lirka Ka.

Continuing, she snorted. Hearing Madelyn ask about the troopers, she gave the woman a look from the corner of her eyes and shook her head as if to say, I'm sure they're capable. They continued, and remembering Lirka, Allyson stopped and looked back towards the door to see if the Sephi had decided to stop pouting and join them on the vault dive.

They moved quickly, and Allyson kept up with the troops, assuming Madelyn was behind her. As far as the Corellina knew, Imperial officers had basic training and had to pass fitness tests. Madelyn was in good shape as far as she could tell and cardio should not be a problem. Allyson looked behind her and panicked for a moment as they stopped in front of the three pathways. She stepped back to find her. Yet, Madelyn appeared, and a quick fine was given as she passed.

Allyson knew what that tone was and what that word meant. She pursed her lips together as she fell into line behind the woman. The small hint of fear that lingered on her mind was quickly dissipated as she listened to Madelyn try and catch her breath before speaking. The perceptive Corellian had already noticed the flush on her cheeks but assumed it was just the warmth of the jackets.

No, Madelyn was out of breath from the simple activity. Inhaling deeply she mused and leaned towards the Minister as she finished addressing the troopers.

"We'll have to work on that cardio, Minister." She let her words hang in the whisper near the woman's ear as she moved past her slightly to try and listen better to what the short trooper was saying since she seemed to be the one in charge.

Looking at 312, she nodded. "So three pathways?" Allyson squinted and decided she couldn't make anything out of where she stood; instead, she focused on using the cybernetic eye. A few blinks, and she could zoom in deeper through the tunnels one at a time. Particularly down the center, she could read some movement, but she couldn't get a proper read with the temperature fluctuations. Blinking again, the eye settled back into its normal mode, and she stepped back, a hand tapping her chin slightly.

"Stupid cold is throwing things off, but I think I picked up some movement on the center path. From what I could tell, the right is really cold. I couldn't pick up anything, and the left is just emitting energy." Looking at each of the tunnels, she hated this idea but decided it was for the best. They were all capable for the most part.

Maybe, except for the Sephi.

"We should split up. I'll take the Minister and go down the center path." Allyson fought the urge to reach out and grab Madelyn to bring her closer so she didn't get caught up with the crowd, but something stopped her. As they stood, dust fell from the ceiling. She hadn't noticed it before. Looking up, Allyson felt one of the flakes land on the tip of her nose. Her pupils dilated, and she felt her consciousness ripped from her body.

Flashing images, people, panic, and the same words echoing in her mind. Everything happened so quickly, and Allyson found herself back in her body. Quickly, she slapped away the dust the best she could, trying to stop it from touching her bare skin again. "The dust." she said, "The dust, whatever it is, don't let it touch you, chit, the cauterizer."

Stepping back, Allyson again swiped the particles away from her. "Feth," she held her face for a moment, trying to calm the panic in her chest. "Do we really want to find this thing?" She asked quietly, wanting an answer but not really wanting an answer. Shaking her head,

Allyson exhaled and found her center again.

Remembering her words before the small disaster, she nodded to the Minister and pulled her bow from her back. "Public comms will shout if something gets bad." She began to walk down the pathway, "Let's go, Minister."

A few steps into the tunnel, Allyson turned to Madelyn as she kept going slowly. "Do you have a weapon on you?"