Dominion Too Greedy, Too Deep | DE Dominion of Shu-Torun

[DARKNOR]

Civil War erupts! The volcanic mining planet of Shu-Torun, long run by a group of wealthy industrialists known as ore-dukes, has recently reached a boiling point regarding the recent economic decree of the Dark Empire. While some of these ore-dukes have been entertaining the idea of bringing themselves into the embrace of the Empire, others feel that their very way of life is at risk. This has caused lines to be drawn, and skirmishes to erupt throughout the resource-rich planet.

Both the Loyalists ruling along with the Monarchy, and the Separatists who wish to remain a neutral system vie for control of Shu-Torun. The Empire sees it as an opportunity to suppress any rebellion securing both allies and resources to fuel the Imperial War Machine.

Objective 1: Black Waltz

​

In the Royal Palace of Shu-Torun lies the intricate rituals played out in the Abyssal Rooms, underground beneath the Palace. Grand balls are held while the patrons feast, drink. The waltz is more of a political maneuver than a social custom. While some dance, many argue on who to side with delegations between the rival Ore Dukes. Tensions run high throughout the course of the ball, neither side able to sway the other.

The Empire dispatches a delegation to confront the royal family, engaging in talks while attending the ball. The Imperials can only hope to persuade the Monarchs into giving the Empire access to the vital materials Shu-Torun has to offer. Unaware that the rival ore dukes plot to take over the entire ball, and attempt to sabotage negotiations in an attempt to overthrow the King and wrestle Imperial support away. Attend the Ball, secure the support of the throne and stop the rival Ore Dukes plot for control of the nobility.

Objective 2: The Climb​

At the Spires, home of the Ore Dukes that have sided against the Empire are dug in deep. Imperial forces backed by the Ore Loyalists head in for an assault towards the looming spires. Facing the odds of hostile terrain, volcanic lava and the gasses that come with them, and mining drills repurposed to fight against the heavy armor of the Imperial military.

Reinforcements are sent to aid the assault against the Spires, while another group of Imperials infiltrate behind enemy lines to make a treacherous climb to the top of the Spires in order to end the battle quickly and apprehend the traitorous Ore Dukes.




BYOO: Explore the mysteries of the Imperial Retreat, or uncover the strange gravitational anomalies emerging from the Spike.

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Base of the Spire (Behind Enemy Lines)
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

Quaint was the edifices known as the Spires, erected with a detail precision from an artistic eye, and storied with a height fit to touch the hands of Gods. Each Spire, a doppelganger by architectural design, was employed to house the rare materials harvested from the lava-like planet for exportation, to fill the flowing coffers of the ore-dukes. Each Spire, a darkened emblazoned monolith, stood as defiant giants overlooking the flowing magna like guardians, whilst adding a systematic shadow that fell like a veil over the eyes of the planet; a testament to the corruption of the ore-dukes.

Quaint was the belief of these mongrels, these ore-dukes, that this collection of Spires would behold for all time a source of monetary advancements; fanatical and foolish was such thinking. Believed untouchable, the Spires were poorly supplied militarily, left to be plucked like carrion by hungry and stalking predators, the innards devoured for their nutritious value.

And it was quaint in the rationalization from these pompous, bloating ore-dukes that they would, as most believed, live as immortalized Gods; that they, like the hovering Spires, were untouchable.

But soon: even the Gods themselves would learn the harshness of truths that even the flesh of Gods could be stripped from bone; and thus, become a meal for more ambitious vultures.

​

As if the mouth of Hades, himself, opened up and spewed forth the turmoil of heat and fire from a caustic exhalation of breath, that the area we stood upon, prepped and spawned to bring havoc to those that unknowingly would be our buffet of homicidal pleasures, had been rained down upon with a miserable change in seasonal weather. Temperatures spoke incantations to a demonic spawn from the pits of the Unknown, begging in their pleas to cook the living into charred remains of the dead; and it was as such that I ordered the tinker soldier boys to strip down their armor, and to fight bravely in the bare minimal necessities, less they die from the heat in a fashion not befitting a story to be spoken in a circle of friends with drinks in hand.

I, the embodiment of the undead, was not cuffed and subjugated to the whimsical principles bestowed by the jester of evolution the living had been forced to suffer and endure. However, it was the fire that errored me to caution; for even the undead, like a vampire, has its vices to contend too. Why such a creature, whose main enemy is an element capable of fiery dispositions, elect to lead a behind-the-scenes attack on the enemy over enjoying the luxurious fortunes of conversations and mingling at the Palace where a gala was to be held? Did said creature seek self-immolation to a God that had looked down upon her as daughter, perhaps a bride to share immortality within the afterlife? No, it was simple: I love the indulgence of murder, whilst I hate being indulged in repetitious conversations.

And so, as we slowly crept up the hill like maggots in pursuit of bountiful tissues of festering flesh, the dawn of a new era for Shu-Torun was on the cusp of enlightenment: no longer would the ore-dukes infect the planet with their queer and quaint ideologies. No longer would the ore-dukes live behind guises of a quaint belief they were deathless as the Gods themselves. No longer would the ore-dukes, for all their wealth and greed, live to endure the quaint monetary system they built on the backs of the paupers. For what crept up that hill, that lead maggot in front, was not female, not a living embodiment, nor a phantom fabricated in the minds of the fearful: but Death itself.

 

[Saa Montemar]

Montemar's face, marked by the gentle creases of age, bore the weight of experience surveyed the Grand Ballroom of Shu-Torun as the delegations assembled to discuss the discontent of the treacherous ore-dukes who were rather displeased with the economic strategy outlined by the Dark Empire in order to curtail the explotiation and abuses of its citizens by megacorporations and warprofiteers.

He occupied a modest position within the Imperial Treasury Department, and thus would provide guidance and advice to the Imperial delegation in order to persuade the Royal Family that submission would allow them to have a degree of protection from hostile economic powers such as the Galactic Alliance.

Even if such an avenue for diplomacy failed, there were others in attendance that would be more than willing to side with them among the lower strata of the elite such as Lord Velin Thotyrn, a corpulent individual dressed in garments resplendent with bronze and gold, who approached with an air of assured elegance.

"Your Lordship, a splendid evening indeed," Montemar began, in a calm tone of voice.

"Ah, Saa Montemar!" Velin Thotryn exclaimed, his boisterous laugh vibrating through the air like the distant rumble of machinery. "Come, tell me, how fares the Imperial treasury in these uncertain times? I can assure you, the mines are running at full swing despite the rumblings of the ore-dukes, and the riches of Shu-Torun are as abundant as ever." His jowly face brightened, eager to boast of his homeworld's wealth.

Montemar leaned slightly closer, his expression turning more serious. "It is the fluctuations in demand that concern me, dear Lord. While your holdings yield treasure, the market—" he paused, ensuring his tone remained cordial—"can indeed be a treacherous beast. Perhaps we could discuss strategies over a glass of your finest local vintage?" A knowing smile danced upon his lips as he gestured towards the banquet table, his mind already racing ahead, calculating alliances amid the music and merriment.

 

[Domaric Mordane]

The operations center hummed with tension as Allegiant General Domaric Mordane stood before the tactical holomap, his black-clad form casting a shadow over the glowing projections of the Spires. The volcanic terrain loomed on the display, its jagged cliffs and deadly lava flows making the stronghold a fortress even before considering the defenses of the Ore Dukes. Mordane's helmet rested on the console beside him, revealing a stern face lined with experience and purpose.

The air in the room was thick with urgency. Officers moved briskly between consoles, reporting coordinates and preparing the final logistics for the assault. Stormtrooper commanders, their black armor mirroring Mordane's, stood at attention in the far corners of the chamber, awaiting their orders. Each one represented a battalion, a hammer poised to strike the rebellious Ore Dukes.

Mordane's cold gaze swept across the holomap as he reviewed the stratagem. The FD-874/3.0 troop transports hovered in holding formations above the base, their engines thrumming with readiness. Each transport, a marvel of Imperial engineering, was capable of delivering entire platoons with precision even under the most hostile conditions. This would be the Stormtrooper Corps' first large-scale deployment since its reform—an opportunity to demonstrate its rebirth as the Empire's uncompromising fist.

"My lord, all units are standing by," reported Major Vrandis, one of Mordane's senior aides.

Mordane nodded but remained silent for a moment, his attention drawn to the display of enemy defenses. The Spires' hostile terrain and repurposed mining drills would complicate the approach, but that mattered little to him. The Stormtrooper Corps had been trained for exactly this: rough insertions into hostile territory, fighting through environments that would break lesser soldiers.

He turned to the assembled officers, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "The Ore Dukes think they can defy the Empire because they've hidden themselves in a fortress carved from stone and fire. But no fortress is impervious to our will. Our brave Stormtroopers will descend upon them like the wrath of the Emperor himself. And when this day is done, the Spires will stand as a testament to the futility of rebellion. Empire First!"

"Always First!" came the reply before the officers exchanged resolute nods as they dispersed to relay the final orders.

Turning back to the holomap, Mordane rested his hands on the console and studied the operation one last time. Every variable, every detail, was scrutinized. His own experience told him that battles were not won by strength alone but by precision, preparation, and unrelenting resolve. He knew the stakes. This was not merely a battle—it was a demonstration of Imperial dominance under the Warlord's command.

"Ensure the transports are fully prepped," Mordane said to Major Vrandis, his voice calm but firm. "When the order comes, I want no delays. Victory waits for no man."

The major saluted sharply before departing, leaving Mordane alone with his thoughts and the looming holographic spires. The general's expression remained stoic, but within, his resolve burned as hot as the lava flows beneath the battlefield. The time was near, and he would show the galaxy that even in the most hostile terrain, the Empire's power was absolute.

Marlon Sularen | Moff Evner Braxiatel | @Imperial Warposters​

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Base of the Spire (Behind Enemy Lines)
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

The stench of the incursion fumigated the air, the smokey residue wafting in great plumes of smoke from the discharged energy blasters, floating like magical ghosts over the strewn bodies from the hillclimbers; whilst above, raining down with their defensive bombardment came the counters from an entrenched makeshift military attachment. The high-grounded enemy were fewer in number than those making the treacherous trek upward through a rocky, jagged, and unforgiving terrain, but they held the advantage; at times stalling the advancement.

Bodies of fallen comrades laid in awkward angles, broken forms with visages of horror-stricken images painted upon faces as if done by an amateur painter, sloppy and with the misuse of color schemes, greeted their predecessors who, too, were feeling the pains of a strangled advancement. Slowly they moved toward the gleaming goal, those darkened Spires that looked down on the charging enemy with grinning smiles and daring eyes.

Slowly they began to reach the cusp of the plateau, where the numbers would turn the battle in favor of the invading hoards....

​

My cold, calculating vampiric eyes took in the ghastly scene, turning into a more defined golden hue, whilst I searched about for a way to turn the tide in our collective favor. Soldiers, I have learned through experience fighting alongside them, are only as tough until that first blaster bolt zips by their head; then, unfortunately, that inbred D.N.A. that so despicably dominates their being rises up, resorting them to a natural mode of survival, or what I call cowardice. Even through my barks and vicious taunts to murder them myself, they opted to fight from cover, thus pitting us in a peculiar position I absolutely loathed.

If the living would not fight to expel the enemy, then the dead surely will. I leapt onto a solid, grey rock with spider-vein like cracks, landing with a grace worthy of applause by my dead audience, extending my hands out before me. Very few understand the difference between commanding the Force and spinning a dark Sith spell; the latter requiring concentration, and in some pertinent situations, speaking in tongues. Drawing on the darker aspects of the Force as I wove the words to the spell, Tsaiwinokka Hoyakut, as a spider weaves her ensnaring web, I called forth the dead to rise and obey me.

One by one, the splintered bodies of the dead began to stir and rise around me. The horrific scenery was one of beauty, a gothic tale of the ages. Both the eyes of the enemy and those of my allies could not fathom this occurrence, this phantasmical nightmare awakening into a reality, whilst the shamblers of the undead howled in a cacophony-like orchestra. Then all went eerily silent, and I stood, the self-proclaimed Queen of the Undead, in the center of my court; and with one flick off my finger: sent forth the dead abominations into the ranks of the frightened enemy.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P
Objective II : Climb

DARK EMPIRE
SHU-TORUN, MID RIM

Once more the Empire was on the move. With the successful incorporation of Corsin and the implementation of a Naval blockade of the Hydian Way, the Empire had now set it's sights on the resource-rich mining world of Shu-Torun hoping to make use of it's resources to further fuel it's war machine. However when faced with the restoration of Imperial rule on their world, Shu-Torun collapsed into Civil War with separatist ore-dukes taking up against the Monarchy and Loyalist ore-dukes who both had made the decision to side with the Empire having not forgotten the benefits that they would enjoy under Imperial rule once more.

As such, it was up to Warlord Sularen to lead the Imperial Military's response against the rebellious ore-dukes with the Imperial Warlord leading a considerable Imperial task force to relieve the besieged loyalist ore-dukes and take the fight to the separatists in order to bring the planet under Imperial rule once and for all. Despite the victory at Tython and the Hydian Way blockade there were many who still thought the Empire as weak and vulnerable and it was now time that the Empire demonstrate it's strength once more to remind the galaxy that it's days were far from numbered.

Above the vast lava oceans of Shu-Torun, Sularen's fleet had engaged the aerial and naval forces of the rebellious ore-dukes who were able to put up serious resistance to the Warlord's own naval forces. In addition to the regular arsenal that the ore-dukes had at their disposal such as their fortified delving citadels and their lava leviathans, they had managed to get their hands on Imperial equipment left behind by the Old Empire after it's collapse allowing them to contest the Imperial intervention and put up a good fight. Despite this the Empire pushed forward, determined to restore order to the planet by any means necessary.

From the bridge of his flagship, Sularen observed the battle raging as his fleet continued to fight off the repeated attacks from swarms of TIEs, Uglies and other open-market snub-fighters fielded by the rebellious ore-dukes. As the battle progressed, the treacherous ore-dukes finally threw in what was supposed to be their ace card : a trio of lava leviathans, that emerged from the vast oceans of molten rock and began to attack the Imperial fleet above them in a desperate attempt to take out some of the Warlord's warships and repel the imperial attack. As the bridge of his flagship shook as it came under fire from the enemy Leviathans, Sularen smirked knowing well of the fate that awaited those Lava Leviathans.

No matter how much resistance the rebellious ore-dukes put up they were only delaying their inevitable defeat at the hands of the the Imperial Warlord and the mighty military forces of the Dark Empire, which would only further convey a message to both Shu-Torun and the rest of the galaxy : That none could withstand the Imperial hand of judgement.

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Sid Berik | Moff Evner Braxiatel | Darth Moskvin ​

 

[Sid Berik]

STEEL YOURSELF
​

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P
Objective II : Climb

DARK EMPIRE
SHU-TORUN, MID RIM


The march to the drop pods was a quiet affair.

Some men prayed.

Some men steeled themselves.

Corporal Berik knew only one thing for certain: that he was going to be on that planet.

It was not a new method of inserting oneself into a warzone, but a dangerous one. Hundreds of the more elite of the Stormtrooper Corps, hardened veterans, readied themselves as they secured themselves into the drop pod. Sid had been placed in charge of a squad now, 14 men, not including himself. He walked along his men's drop pods, ensuring that they were all secured in their pods, gear and comms checked. It was a short drop- barely a minute to the surface, but with the streaking fire, and possibility of deviation from their planned drop site, well.

He wanted to be sure.

He stood in the middle of the drop pod bay, his heavy boots clanging along, his gray recon armor with the red stripe on his shoulder marking him as an NCO making him stand out- even from the similarly colored Stormtrooper armors.

"Gentlemen we will be dropping into a hostile territory and immediately will be in combat. There will be no respite, there will be confusion at the drop site. Do not fail me, do not fail the Empire, and do not fail yourselves."

He clicked on his helmet, tightening the seals. His helmet had a curious visage painted on the back- five letters. Naomi. He turned his back to his troops, settling into the pod, locking himself in. He took a deep breath, and waited for the red lights that darkened the bay to switch to yellow. Sure enough, they did- and the drop pods moved into launch positions. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

The lights turned green. And one by one- the pods launched from the ships above the planet- and the Empire's will, the fingers of death tightened their grip around the planet. It was a terrifying visage for those on the ground- dozens of pods streaking across the sky, beyond their defenses, blurring faster than they could muster a defense. And filled with elite, battle-hardened veterans.

Inside the pod, the heat was intense, even with the shielding and heat disbursement technology. He sweat underneath his helmet, waiting for the jump-jets to activate to slow their descent enough. He looked at the status screens inside.

Thirty seconds to drop.

Twenty seconds.

Ten seconds.....

​

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Atop, Heading toward a Spire
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

It can be said that there is something blissful, a rather majestic feeling to hearing the screams and cries of individuals dying, as their bodies are slashed at, limbs ripped from torsos, and the splattering sounds of crimson fluids upon rocks, buildings, and other easels for artistic creations. And as such, hearing the wailing of death mingled with the gnashing of saliva encrusted teeth gave the scene a cosmical stage in which to perform the dark act.

Hands, with droplets of blood falling downward and bits of ripped flesh inhabiting a position under dead, cracking fingernails, flew upward in circus like acrobats hurling the remains of the once living guardians of the Spire in every direction imaginable. For those, slightly behind their falling comrades in tucked makeshift-like pill boxes, were forced to bear witness to the monstrous theatrics, played so well by the undead actors for whom no award could be easily credited for such a macabre performance, turned and tried to escape the trepidations that was soon slithering its way toward them like a coiling serpent of death.

But the simplicity behind such a concept of running had failed them, for in their pursuit of survival only infected their situation by attracting the eyes of reanimated corpses, who unison, as if they were manipulated by strings from above by a masterful puppeteer, once more howled and wailed, and as the strings once again tugged at the dead marionettes, they too broke into a run; toward the fleeing enemy. The mice scurried quickly, as the dead felines gave chase....

​

I watched, as if an invisible surgeon slowly began stitching across my pale, death like face a sinister grin. The dead, my undead children, provided their Mother what the living embodiments of these so-called tinker soldiers under my command could not; a way to break this annoying stalemate. I watched, with a lustful and blissful fluttering of feelings that crept through me like coffin flies, the enemy break cover, attempting to elude the pending ruinations of their fleshy bodies. Attempts, undoubtedly, having attracted the playful nature of my undead children, turning my sinister smile into a laughable sneer.

From behind, as I stood upon my throne of stone, those soldiers, those trained warriors, those battle-hardened harbingers of destruction slowly began to appear from their covering position; their collection of eyes transfixed on the events unfolding before them. I could sense their fear, for they deserved nothing less for their cowardice to fight, that what they observed should be a lesson to them; that their lives and their deaths belonged to me, and if I inclined myself to use their dead brothers as I see fit, then what monstrosities would I be willing to lay upon their beating hearts.

"If you girls are done pampering yourselves behind rocky closet doors," I snarled without turning to face the cowardice of their collective bodies, slowly trying to quell both my annoyance and anger with them. "Then I suggest you gather your wits about you, untuck that trunk from between your legs, and get up that hill. One more thing," I began turning around to stare into their eyes, "I haven't fed today. So, the next one that refuses to follow a simple command, I will eat you, your wife, and your children."

 

[Saa Montemar]

They approached the banquet tables situated on the left side of the Grand Ballroom with a sense of ease, as a service droid expertly opened a premium cold beverage for them. The glasses were filled to a moderate level, ensuring a balance of taste without the risk of intoxication, given the significance of the conference for the Dark Empire's expansion into the Braxant Run and the territory of the Technoid Manufactorum.

Lord Thotyrn exhibited a look of concern as whispers spread throughout the room regarding the Imperial Army's direct engagement with the ore-dukes and their territories. This development appeared to mark the fifth hour of the ongoing conflict, while the surrounding crowds continued to dance and unwind in the presence of the Royal Family, whose attention remained fixed on the guests and the holographic displays of the battlefield.

"I would not look so downtrodden, Your Lordship. The Imperial Army are professionals when it comes to sieging down enemy locations such as the Ore-Dukes strongholds." Montemaar replied with a soft gesture and a raising of the glass in an attempt to wave away any potential doubt of what an alliance could mean for certain members of the elite.

"It is not their capabilities which -err-" Velin paused for a moment, carefully considering his exact words. "cause me due concern, but the reckless damage they are doing to invaluable equipment." He concluded, taking a few sips of wine from his plump fingers. Mining rigs are not readily replaceable, which lead to some hope that the Imperials would exercise caution and restraint.

"Your concerns are certainly taken into consideration, although putting down a rebellion is not so easy if your army is handicapped by the fragile gears of machinery located on the battlefield. Rest assured that Imperial Development will replace any of the more expensive products that were unfortunately damaged in the fighting." Saa emphasized that any advanced machinery that sustained damage during the conflict would be replaced by the Imperial Treasury, incurring minimal to no expense for the planet.

 

[Rackham]

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P

DARK EMPIRE
FORNAX, MID RIM

​

While the Imperial Military was busy fighting Separatists on Shu-Torun in order to restore order to the mining world and prop up the Loyalist Ore-Dukes and the Monarchy, the ISB was on Fornax carrying out it's own operation in the form of an investigation. Prior to the Empire's operation on Shu-Torun, efforts had been undertaken to establish a forward base of operations on Fornax in order to gather information and make adequate preparations for the Empire's takeover of the Sector. However, most recently the base had been attacked by an unknown enemy suspected to be Alliance operatives, whom were apparently assisted by locals who were friendly to the Alliance.

With both Shu-Torun and Fornax falling under the control of the Empire, Warlord Sularen had tasked Colonel Rackham to investigate the attack on Fornax while he lead Imperial forces on Shu-Torun, with the Colonel bringing in the rest of the ISB in order to carry out the investigation. As such, the Colonel had requested for the assistance of Director Ellayina L'lerim of SHADES in advancing the investigation given her torture and interrogation skills which would come in handy in acquiring information needed to uncover the true culprits of the attack.

Already Rackham had arrived at Fornax, his battlecruiser the INV Thunderer positioned in orbit of the Mid Rim planet as the ISB Colonel stood within the main hangar of the Imperial Warship patiently awaiting the arrival of the ISB Director. There was alot of work to do today and hopefully they could get their work done as swiftly and efficiently as possible in order to cement the might of the Empire on Fornax while moving on to other top-priority missions and operations that needed to be executed in order to further advance the agenda of the Empire.

[Tag] | Ellayina L'lerim ​

 

[Allister McAuliffe]

BLACK WALTZ

Location: Royal Palace of Shu-Torun
Gear: Standard Equipment
Tags: Open

"Rather impressive display, don't you think," the middle-aged woman, dressed in a purple extravagant gown with white laces around the neckline and which also engulfed the circumference of the gown's bottom feature that drifted mere inches from the floor's surface, said offering a glass filled with a pinkish fluid sloshing about inside a crystalline glass.

"Impressive is hardly the word I would use," Dr. Allister McAuliffe said, taking notice of the female offering up the glass in a friendly gesture. The woman was stunning, striking by all accounts with long, reddish blonde hair with minimal curls in the locks, a very pale, but vibrant complexion, smoothing and seductive lips, eyes of the bluest of blue, and a figure, he could only imagine was both athletic and mesmerizing, though the gown was successfully working its magic to keep hidden the figure in mysterious ways. "Medicore is what I would have used."

After taking the offered glass, he took a brief smell of the aroma flowing upwards through invisible vapors, took a sip, and nodded his approval. "Please, forgive my choice of description. This is after all your planet, your home, and it is by no offense did I mean such a sour word. I am Doctor McAuliffe, Director of the Science Division for the Dark Empire. Well, they do not know they have a science division, but they will agree what I bring is more than adequate to grant one. Thank you for the drink, and you are?"

"Lady Marabelle. My Uncle is co-hosting this mediocre gathering," she replied, flashing a flirtatious smile at the last part before continuing, "In hopes of accumulating more support from the Imperials of your Dark Empire, sir. But I fear, trouble from those boisterous ore-dukes will make attempts to thwart my uncle's efforts."

"Excuse my shortcomings, Lady Marabelle, I did not know you were part of the Royal Family. I'm unaccustomed to the lineage of your family. My apologies"

"There is nothing to forgive, Doctor McAuliffe. My family is legion, and I wonder at times if I even know all of them. Have you seen the Abyssal Rooms? No? Then please, allow me to show you, personally, some of our culture."

 

[Sid Berik]

MONSTER, I BECAME ONE
​

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P
Objective II : Climb

DARK EMPIRE
SHU-TORUN, MID RIM


The impact was lessened by jets, propulsion, a mixture of technology far too advanced for him to understand. There was a pause, then the light turned green- the door jettisoned away, and the Stormtroopers and Commandos stepped out, a blaze of fire as they were immediately fired on. Some didn't even make it out of their pods, some missed the mark and were off target, but enough had landed that it was now a very, very serious problem for the Defenders.

Corporal Berik's HUD blazed with information, data, positioning. He directed his squad to get down, and immediately return fire. Orders came out-

"GET THAT FUCKING GUN UP!"

"GRENADES, FRONT RIGHT!"
​

"GET THAT MACHINE GUN SHIFTED! PICK UP THE RATE OF FIRE!"
​

"TWO ENEMIES IN THE OPEN, SPLASH EM!"

"FIRE, FIRE, FIRE- GET THAT ROCKET GOING ON THAT MACHINE GUN!"
​

Sid slid into cover, dust, blaster fire slamming into his position, kicking up the dirt. The Empire had come. Brutal, cunning, ruthless and efficient. The Empire's finest had landed, and were intent on taking the ground- in the name of the Empire, no less. They had a Rebellion to put down. Sid slid into cover, discharging the empty charge pack of his blaster as his squad and the others began to move forward on their objective. Rebels were put down with the kind of lethal precision expected of the Imperial Troops. Sid fell into his role naturally, his squad falling to command out of respect and admiration, a desire to impress not only Sid, but a true belief in the Empire and their mission.

That, was key.

Violence was the bigger part of the equation.

Brutal, efficient, honed, practiced, trained violence. Sid stood up, extending his hand outward to point at the enemy, but more importantly, the top of the hill the Defenders were so desperate to hold onto.

"KILL THEM ALL! FOR THE EMPIRE! MY SQUAD, ON ME!"

And Sid moved- first. He removed himself from cover first, and took the first strides towards the enemy. Sid wouldn't do it alone, no, but he would do it first. He'd be the first in, last out.

​

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Atop, Heading toward a Spire
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

The carnage left in the wake of the undead soldiers, fodder for scavenging fowls and beasts alike, painted the horrific scene in lavishing colors of death and despair. The creatures from beyond the graves had done meticulous work, leaving no enemy alive; and with their work concluded, dropped to the ground one-by-one to return to that eternal realm of sleep.

Once heavily defended, now ripe for impregnation, the Spire itself now lay sprawled open, as if laid upon a bed of black and decaying roses, waiting for her lover's embrace to consecrate the impending unholy marriage. Within the Spire, this dark silo of colossal proportions, held the forbidden fruits of the ore-dukes, as well as themselves, stood poised to be picked clean, seeds being spit from masticating mouths from the intruders who now brazenly marched toward their sacred Garden.

And inside, the terror reflecting in the eyes of the ore-dukes as they stood in dread, whilst the visions danced frightfully through their minds of what they bore witness at the hands of the undead, found the flaming wicks of their lives were slowly being consumed by the rising wax; and soon, like all they once held dear, would be forever extinguished....

​

Like a creeping plague washing over the lands of the innocent and just, I sauntered my way toward the Spire, savoring in my delight at the accomplishment constructed by my twisted mind, awarded for my efforts another graveyard my inner child would frolic in memories for time immoral. Kicking aside limbs, heads, and other body parts, I cleared a path for my cowardly troops to follow; though I knew their psyche was splintered, their minds fracturing at the images their eyes were sending to that gelatinous mass they call a brain.

But I care not for the living or their struggles, for in breathing form they are a curse, a weak embodiment of a shelled beast; and only in death do they regard something of respect from me, and in death, they supply me with their one and only purpose. And so, I led these air breathers toward the Spire, that ebony spike of riches and flesh, to fancy ourselves a look see. And behold, as we drew closer, two ore-dukes emerged from the Spire, coming to plead the stay of their execution, to beg Lady Death herself to pardon their misgivings.

But alas, there would be no pardons today. Through the Force, and with invisible hands latching down in a horrendous vice-like grip, I snatched one of the Spire's escaped death row inmates by his throat, rising him upwards with dangling feet kicking below as he struggled in panic clutching at those invisible hands, feeling his trachea slowly and slowly begin to close, until at last, the beautiful sound of popping cartilage sealed this man to the tomb; and in a gesture of disrespect, I cast the carcass into the flowing magma.

For the other, who stood with a yellowish liquid running down his leg, the front of his trousers betraying his fear with the ever-growing wetness, fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness for a crime he wasn't sure he committed. I crept up to him, staring coldly into his eyes as I did so, before crouching down to his kneeled height and produced my fangs. In one instance, I seized his head, craned his neck to the left; and drove my fangs into the pulsating vein, feeling his Anima flow into my mouth, whilst his life essence began to depart itself, leaving him a dead husk. And there, in front of the Spire upon which held his riches and his theory of God-like immortality, I left his body.

 

[Allister McAuliffe]

BLACK WALTZ

Location: Royal Palace of Shu-Torun
Gear: Standard Equipment
Tags: Open

The Abyssal Rooms, architectural speaking, were indeed beautiful, eloquently constructed and decorated in a fashion befitting the culture it sought to represent. There was, as it appeared in every facet of the Rooms, no credit spared in the intricate designs and displays that littered the rooms; each statue or hanging artwork bearing its own personal story. The building itself was a fascination, constructed from materials both common and rare, and upon a closer inspection, engineeringly sound.

"I must admit, Lady Marabelle," Allister began, boldly taking her hands in his, "I am rather in awe. To think, such beauty would be delegated to the lower regions of the Royal Palace. This place, I dare say, is amazing!"

For a brief moment, their eyes remained locked, as if the world around them did not exist, as if they were ensnared in a world of fantasy, a dream-like state where time stood perfectly still, as their entwined hands coiled around each other. Lady Marabelle began to lean forward, her lips pursing together, perching themselves to kiss Doctor McAuliffe when from behind the fall of footsteps broke the reverie, snatching away the fantasy.

"Ah, there you are my dear," an elderly man reaching the twilight of his years, dressed in garments bearing the colors and the singular emblem of the Royal Family, said entering one of the rooms. "I was told you were seen leading a guest to the Abyssal Rooms, and I had to see for myself who my young niece had whisked away from the party."

"Doctor McAuliffe, meet my uncle, Jovan Guthrie," Lady Marabelle spoke, placing a hint of annoyance in her tone from the interruption, "Doctor McAuliffe is with the Imperials, Uncle Jovan, Director of their Science Division."

"Is that so," came the old man's reply followed by the common gesture of an extending hand.

"Quite so," Allister replied, clutching the old man's hand in his, "And it's a pleasure to meet you. I was just telling your niece how lovely these rooms are...."

"Yes...yes, they are quite lovely. But I'm not sure you came all this way to learn about our culture. I know why you and the rest of your Imperial associates are here, so please enlighten me, Doctor, what is the Dark Empire's angle?"

 

[Detritus Ren]

​

Objective: Black Waltz

Shu-Torun, Royal Palace



Shu-Torun a hellfire of a world came into the Master of Ren’s line of sight as his TIE dropped from hyperspace. Staring into the world, he was vaguely reminded how his Father once coveted a world such as this. His hands firmly tight in the control yokes, the TIE would roar through the void of space and sped off towards the atmosphere, the engines screaming all the way through.

It had been sometime since the Master of Ren’s line had been seen, but upon his watch of discovery did he find the hidden hands guiding the Empire, now he had been tasked as a Prophet to see that the Royal Family was to be swayed, in the desperate times of the Core Wars did the Empire require more in its insatiable war machine. The Mawsworn Zealot would see to that, as the atmosphere quickly obscured his sight, all he could see was the ash and toxic fumes that came bubbling from the volcanic vents spread across the surface.

For all intents and purposes was Shu-Torun hostile, its inhabitants locked in a civil war from resisting the Empire’s harsh imperialization. Others saw some benefit in the ideal of a new Empire using such resources to impose order. For Detritus only acquiring the planet for the Emperor was enough. He tightened his grip on the control yokes, the TIE screamed as it made its way towards one of the landing platforms, off in the distance could Detritus see other TIEs zooming past him, heading towards other targets that had proved troublesome in the Empire’s mission to put down any defiance.

A hand reached towards the accelerator, slowing down the movement of the TIE as it slowly hovered above the pad. The TIE landed gently, the systems shut off while a host of armed men came to greet Ren’s arrival. He jumped out from the hatch landing on the platform, his orange robes would billow from the impact, while the yellowed gaze of Ren came down to the armed men on approach. The Orbalisks that fed from his body advised him on striking them down, he on the other hand urged restraint from his violent tendencies.

“Who are you?” One of the armed Royal guards would question Detritus, raising his blaster at him. He was only met with cold eyes that narrowed. “Praise be gentlemen, I’m simply a humble servant of the Emperor come for negotiations.” Detritus paused, clearing his throat before uttering something that seemed oddly humorous to him. “Now, if you would. Take me to your leader.” He said, his fingers were trailing along the metallic hilt of his saber ready to be unleashed in an instant.

“Right this way.” Came the gruff response of the Royal guards. He went ahead, leading the group while Detritus was placed in the middle, flanked by a guard all around him. He could smell the air that burned his nostrils, quickly did the irritation vanish while the guards led the Shadow Priest into the interior of the Royal Palace.

 

[Reiner Ghadi]

Tags: Detritus Ren , Saa Montemar , Allister McAuliffe

Theme

Businessmen... royals... they weren't much different at the end of the day. Each passing moment was not without some long-winded anecdote about opportunity, often laced with the ever-present hint of betrayal. Profit and power were quite interchangeable in the eyes of the Director, which had caused him to shy away from both when he could. Yet, fate always had other plans for him. Reiner often thought about the days of being a soldier. A simpler time for him, yet sadly cut short by other responsibilities. He may not have liked the tedium of politics, but he did understand duty...

And duty was everything.

He had arrived at the royal palace of Shu-Torun with many of the other delegates, though where others may have chosen to adorn themselves with suits, baubles, and other such finery, Reiner would instead opt to wear his OIT uniform. It wasn't out of disrespect, of course, but a soldier was a soldier till the end, and they could pry the uniform from his corpse if they wished. The man took pride in his work, as he felt all should, and besides... to him, this was no more than another military operation, no matter how thinly veiled behind niceties it may be.

Some lavishly-dressed fool of a noble sauntered up to the Director, the scent of alcohol already heavy on his breath. No doubt looking to find some angle for himself, the Director would think silently. His cold, steel-grey eyes met those of the man, and Reiner would force the slightest hint of a smile as he was approached by the oaf.

"Ah you must be Director Reiner... Gallius."

It took everything for Reiner to not kill the man right there. However... there was an objective here, and he would not be the one to botch the operation at hand. Stifling a scoff, Reiner offered the man a bow of the head.

"Ghadi, actually, but yes. And you are?"

His new companion's greeting was spoken with a disgustingly ostentatious bow.

"Lord Morthan, at your service."

Reiner knew the name, of course. He had memorized the names of every important individual before coming here. Who had which personal interests in this political climate, who was loyal to whom... no detail would go unnoticed. Of course, Ghadi had ended up talking to the most insufferable of the lot.

"Ah yes, you are a distant cousin of the king, are you not?"

He already knew the answer, but in his line of work, it was always better to keep what you knew hidden.

"Indeed! Now come, tell me of your thoughts on our... current situation."

Reiner let out as unnoticeable of a sigh as he could, and simply motioned for the pompous lord to lead the way.

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Director of ISB & SHADES, Torture & Interrogation Officer

Information

Objective: Speak with Rackham
Location: Fornax, Mid Rim
Equipment: White uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tags: Rackham

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

My only question is, why am I travelling to see a colonel when he should come to my office if he wants to talk to me? Anyway, I was in the area anyway, so I had no problem going to Rackham's ship to accept his invitation. I arrived on the Star Destroyer in a shuttle from a nearby planet. As I stepped off the shuttle, an officer was waiting to escort me to the Colonel. I knew that many people were probably unhappy that I was Director of the ISB, especially at such a young age, but I worked as hard as I could to keep the position.

As I walked down the corridor and followed the officer, I wondered what the reason was that the colonel wanted to talk to me. Countless possibilities came to mind; perhaps too many. In the current state of the empire, there were so many possible answers. Still, too many. The Emperor still hasn't turned up, it's been a very long time since there was any information about him, and then there was the elevation of Sularen to Regent. I still thought he should have been left to die in a Galactic Alliance prison. The reinvigoration of the Krath and the Dyan. In truth, it was time to put order within the Empire and end the power struggles. If not, the Empire will fall apart from within, and it won't even need the Alliance's help.

But coming back to that, yes, there were too many variables and too many factors. Even with the constant monitoring of what was going on internally, there were a lot of question marks. Actually, perhaps external intelligence was much calmer in those days, despite the fact that the picture of the Galaxy was constantly changing and new empires were emerging from obscurity and others were sinking back into it. Such was the case with the ever-emerging states on the Outer Rim, and now there was one on Bastion. We'll see how long they stay on the map of the galaxy. Meanwhile, we arrived at the Colonel's office.

When the officer opened the door, I stepped through it and walked inside the room/office. As was proper, I then waited for the man to salute or greet me first, when he did, I returned it. And only then did I speak.

"Colonel! What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked, getting straight to the point. I didn't see the point in dragging on too long with the various circles of respect; it was much more efficient and optimal.

 

[Antipater]

The royal guards brought Detritus Ren straight to the throne room. Perhaps unexpectedly, it was the rueful droid Moff of Jaemus who was there to greet him, rather than a royal emissary. Antipater seemed to be inspecting the cuffs of his uniform. Perhaps admiring the precision of his tailor unit. Whatever the case, Ren's arrival on its own did not outwardly distract the droid. He greeted Detritus without looking at him.

"The Master of Ren graces the halls. How delightful." Antipater did not sound delighted, though that was hardly unusual. "Will you be speaking to the royal family?"

Detritus Ren​

 

[Rackham]

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P

DARK EMPIRE
FORNAX, MID RIM

​

"Colonel! What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Ah, Director L'lerim. Thank you for coming." Rackham said greeting the ISB Director with a brief smile speaking in a professional tone. "I requested your presence because i am in need of your particular talents regarding the field of interrogation." the Colonel explained before taking out a datapad to her containing an after action report regarding a recent incursion on one of the Empire's outposts on Fornax. "Recently, one of our outposts on Fornax was subject to an attack by hostile forces which we suspect were Alliance special forces operatives." Rackham explained. "From what we know they stole some data from the outposts databanks before escaping." Rackham added.

"We suspect that the Alliance were aided by supportive locals from a village not so far from the Imperial base, which as of now is being subject to a raid from our forces. With your particular skills i was thinking that hopefully we can get some information that could confirm the Alliance's involvement and potentially give us more insight on how they carried out the incursion." The Colonel further explained, giving her a rough outline of what to expect from their little meeting today.

[Tag] | Ellayina L'lerim ​

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Shu-Torun, Royal palace
Objective: 1
With: Antipater

The unholy man of course would comply with the royal escort. The Master of Ren had known very little of the volcanic world, but what he did know was that the nobility had a high regard for tradition. The orbalisks gnawed at him to carve a path of carnage, but the priest had restrained himself, for he felt that his appetite for destruction wasn’t a solution for every problem there was. He followed eagerly behind the royal guards. The irritants of the sulfur and volcanic atmosphere was no longer an irritant to the dark sider as they made their way to the confines of a turbo lift. The escort itself seemed uneasy by the dark presence that followed Detritus, but didn’t seem to make much of an issue. They had one task of simply escorting the Ren to the throne room.

The ride to the throne room had felt uneasy, save for the unholy man who kept his head down as if always in some prayer. The lift felt like an eternity, when in actuality it was only just a few minutes. Through it all could he see the more hospitable dwelling that was made underground, much of the palace looked like an ancient relic, though seemed untouched through the ages. Detritus would only take a moment to marvel at the magnificence of the sight before him. Then the lift would stop right outside of the hall leading to the throne room.

The door opened and Detritus would walk towards a purposeful stride to greet the nobility in the room. In the inside many had gathered to celebrate amongst themselves. However, before Detritus could enter the hall of festivities and begin his introductions was he greeted by the sight of another Councilor. “By the Shadow. I never imagined to see you here.” Detritus would open, his tone was half amused, he slowed if only a little. “I thought the atmosphere would have fried your circuits.” He said still playfully teasing the Warlord before him.

He pressed onwards to the throne room while asked if he was to meet with the Royals. “Precisely, though from what I gathered. I am not sure if it will be a joyous welcome.” He said as the two made their way into the throne room. Music could be heard, many of the nobles laughing, talking, drinking and dancing. Detritus could see an old woman sitting on a throne, a face brightened with happiness had now turned uneasy at the mere sight of the Imperials. The two would stop in front of who looked to be the Queen. The music stopped, the Queen staring them down, unknown to everyone in the room hidden eyes were keeping a close watch on them all.