Invasion Traitors Gate | NIO invasion of TSE held Vjun, Yavin and Vaal

[Eskel Ravenot]

ADMIRAL RAVENOT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
RECHARGING THE VOID

GALIDRAANI STRIKE-FLEET CERES

FLAGSHIP:
EPITAPH II

• Treicolt Squadron ( Maynard Treicolt Loske Treicolt )​

• TIE/VX Vanguard x7 Squadrons​

• TIE/DF Drone x10 Squandrons​

STAR DESTROYERS:
Praefect-class x2

• TIE/HF Slasher x5 Squadrons​

• TIE/INx Interceptor x7 Squadrons​

• TXS Excursor x4 Squadrons​

CRUISERS:
Inceptus-class x2

• TIE/HF Slasher x9 Squadrons​

• TIE/INx Interceptor x6 Squadrons​

• TIE/HB Bruiser x3 Squadrons​

Shieldship II x2

• TXS Excursor x2 Squadrons​

FRIGATES:
Tirailleur-class x4
Vanto-class x2

• TIE/VX Vanguard x7 Squadrons​

• TIE/HB Bruiser x4 Squadrons​

• TXS Excursor x1 Squadrons​

CORVETTES:
Vandal-class x6

Durasteel structures tore their way out of hyperspace. The Epitaph II appeared first, followed by smaller, surrounding ships arriving in a steady wave. Deflector shields plowed through the debris field, sending the deceased remnants of the previous wave scattering into a frenzy. Shieldships took point, plowing through the floating graveyard, clearing a path behind them for Cere's approach to Vjun.

All Vandal-class ships advanced to tuck themselves behind the frontal dome of the shieldships. Three corvettes to a cruiser. Behind each flock of Vanadals followed a Tirailleur. The remaining ships maintained a tight formation within the cleared corridor behind the point cruisers. Taking advantage of perspective, all smaller ships clung close to the Epitaph II like marine remora, keeping themselves hidden from the blockade ahead.

It was quiet on the bridge of the Epitaph II. With the exile of the former Grand Vizier, Eskel was the newly appointed commander of the infamous vessel. With him, came his Galidraani kinsman. Nepotism was abused under the guise of necessity, turning the once-proud Bastion-breaking vessel into a Galidraani symbol of might. Only half of the current bridge crew had belonged to the original staff that had carved a swath through the Braxant five years ago. It went without saying that the senior officers were less than pleased. Duty, for better or worse, kept their grievances in line.

<"Protector Treicolt, this is Admiral Ravenot,"> Eskel addressed over the commsystem into the hangar. <"You're clear to deploy. I doubt our flight is going to be this quiet for much longer."> The Sith were many things, but in the theater of war, they were far from fools. Eskel would be surprised to find his approach entirely uncontested as shieldships closed in. One could still hope, though. Hope that the Sith did something stupid enough to make this an easy engagement. Realistically, hope wasn't going to liberate Vjun, nor was it going to do them any favors against the Sith. No use holding out for a lucky break.

Eskel stepped toward the center of the bridge, surveying the projection of Vjun and the enemy ships near it. "Maintain formation for as long as possible," he ordered. "We'll commence the next stage of the battle plan only after the Sith engage." Bridge officers acknowledged and relayed orders across the fleet. Eskel's toes tapped restlessly against the polished steel floors. Pre-battle nerves were beginning to become agitated. If you asked anyone who knew him, they'd tell you Eskel was a hard man. Hard or not, anticipating the possibility of your own death never sat well.

"-And if they don't engage us, Admiral?"

"Then we've won the lottery, Ensign."

ALLIES: Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | NIO Flyboys and Fleeters
ENEMIES: N Nyxeris | TSE Flyboys and Fleeters

 

[Zaavik Perl]

That which does not kill us...
VJUN CRASHSITE | Darth Daiara ​

Facing a blood-black void with only a ringing in his ears, Zaavik assumed he was dead. It only occurred to him moments later when he questioned his ability to even be conscious, that he was, in fact, still breathing. As consciousness fully returned, so too did the pain in his everything. He still couldn't see anything. Wondering if he'd been blinded, he felt around to deduce that he was buried in wreckage. Miraculously, somehow alive and not pinned.

Maybe there was something to the rhetoric after all.

Green plasma sparked to life, the light of his saber illuminating the crevice he was buried beneath. An open palm pressed against the piece above him, testing the weight at every spot he could reach. Deciding on a point, he sunk the saber through and began to cut. A firm, sustained extension of his legs with feet flat on the panel eventually pried it free, opening the crevice up to the air outside.

The light sent pain into his eyes. It traveled back and transitioned into a throbbing in his skull. Getting to his feet was a monumental effort. His shoulder ached, the sensation clearly familiar as dislocation. He threw himself against an upright section of hull after lining up the lunge. Bones forced themselves into place with a pop, evoking loud curses and sounds of agony.

Staggered around in a daze, blood running down his face from the crown of his skull, he came to a realization. His heart skipped a beat, a sudden exhale coming with sudden desperation. "Oh chit," he muttered. Stumbling around through smoky haze and scattered flames he looked around frantically. "Aradia!?" he shouted over the crackling of infernos and distant sounds of war.

He reached out with the force, searching for any sign of life buried beneath steel and smoke.

 

[Darth Daiara]

VJUN CRASHSITE | Zaavik Perl
​

"Zaavik! Zaavik!"

Her shrill shriek tore up her throat. The ship's metal panels had come down on her. She couldn't see anything. All she could hear was her own panicked heartbeat, and her whimpers... she couldn't help the whimpers. She didn't like tight spaces. They reminded her of cargo holds at slaver's bay.

Her shoulder throbbed. She could feel the warm liquid ooze around a rod of metal embedded into her flesh. It was deep. She didn't look.

The very notion of being impaled again drove her into a frenzy. It was Kyber dark all over again, but she wasn't that same naive girl. She wasn't weak anymore. Lock down her quivering muscles and forced in a breath.

She held it, pushing through the terror... the desperation... the pain... until her desire to live overruled all else.

She released the breath. A telekinetic wave rippled out from around her, battering against the rubble that would burry her alive.

It wasn't enough.

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
VJUN | CASTLE BAST
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES

<"Better down here than up there,"> the Imperial operative said to his companion, one whom he had been familiar with as they were paired up on missions for a good while now. Infiltrating enemy assets via tunnels or any infrastructure subsurface was nothing new to him. It was a common tactic in today's warfare, the need of specially trained soldiers doing what the common conscript couldn't perform.

<"Though I'm sure there's a pool of acid rain below here, so don't get too comfortable.">

Vjun was studied through quick and precise observation. It's terrain, history, climate, and other factors were taken into account before organizing the assault which its events were transpiring by every minute passing. One of the many factors to be cautious about was the acid rain. An elemental hazard for the troops up above throwing themselves at the bloody front lines. They were all depending on the special operatives that lurked in Castle Bast's complex of tunnels.

<"Don't get too comfortable, we don't know what surprises are down here.">

Expect the unexpected. Traps, Sithspawn, Sith assassins, anything could be present to attack them at any second.

Their task in this assignment? Take point and clear out any hostiles that would obstruct the payload of baradium charges they were escorting.

<"And let's be gentle on the thermal detonators, I've got other plans other than be buried down here.">

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Izoshi [DIRECT] | Djonas Val | Seydou of Thyrsus | Kolson Vrask | Joren Loft
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN FOR INTERACTION

 

[Zaavik Perl]

VJUUN CRASHSITE | Darth Daiara​

A muffled voice rose from somewhere. It was hardly audible beneath conflagrating roars. So much so that Zaavik couldn't decipher where it had come from. His head darted around frantically, trying to replay the sound in his mind to trace its origin. No luck. He called out for her again, louder this time, hoping that he'd get an answer. Instead of words, a force signature replied, touching his mind as wreckage on his peripheral shifted.

His body pivoted with a snap and started forward in a short-lived sprint. Boots slid on dust and dirt, halting before a jagged mountain of durasteel, wire, and pipe. At this distance, despite the thunderous throbbing in his head and ringing in his ears that made feeling anything else monumental task, he could sense her.

Viridesence snapped to life. Deliberate cuts and strikes quelled sharp ends and metallic obstructions. Blood mixed with sweat and trickled down over his eyes, yet he continued despite the stinging. What was once a mountain was becoming a pile. Feet slipped beneath the mound loose metal and cut away material. Jagged edges cut at legs and feet, making the climb all that more difficult.

A deliberate shove brought a gust from the force to clear away the excess, just enough to see an arm exposed from beneath larger pieces of what must have been the ship's cockpit previously. Surging forward, he reached down and grabbed her wrist, fingers deliberately placed for a pulse. The feeling of the arm moving was an instant indicator well before he could even begin to notice a vital sign.

Relief made itself known with an exhale. He let go and peeked through the gap just after a quick glance around the makeshift structure of carnage. Even through the opening, the crevice was so dark he could hardly see more than the side of her face.

"You okay?" Probably the dumbest question he'd asked in years. Something in the back of his mind, paranoid, needed some affirmation that she was still alive. If her presence in the force and ability to move weren't enough of an indication. Stress and a concussion were making him far from completely rational. A voice, even hers, would be the most reassuring. Even if just to remind him that he wasn't dead himself.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

CONCORD DAWN
SHORTLY AFTER OPERATION RUSTY CAGE AND BIG IRON
UP DOWN

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​

“You mean the Sovereign Imperator himself didn’t meet up to lay down the terms?” She fought the urge to grimace, which ended up looking like something between the crossroads of sneer and smirk. It was perhaps an unnecessary comment, but her much-healed mind couldn’t help but flash back to the promise the man had made. What a weird full circle.

“In all fairness, seems like a standard rule of negotiation, try and send someone they can relate to. And well- Lucien is someone I can relate to.” He admitted flatly, shrugging his shoulders. After all, they were both users of the Force disillusioned with the Jedi Order, became wayward spacers and now had both reclaimed their homeland.

Loske's arms were folded tight against her chest, thumbing her bicep to gesture her anxiety. She’d had a feeling this was coming, and that suspicion turned into knowing when oblong triangles filled Concord Dawn’s golden skies yesterday and specialized forces swept through homes alongside her and The Protectors.

It wasn’t that she was upset with Maynard for accepting the terms, it was moreso that the terms were entirely inevitable. That was the vexing part of it all.

“I guess...they did make good on taking back and protecting Luc’s homeworld. I can see why he’d be loyal to the Imperials…”

Even-after-Kyber-Dark...danced on the tip of her tongue, left unsaid.

Instead, something halfway between a snarl and a growl came from Loske’s throat, but it lacked the power to make it menacing. It did the trick to communicate the distaste left in her mouth after the word Imperials.

“Makes enough sense, it’s how you sow loyalty. You give people their home back, they’ll go past the end for you.” Maynard comments bluntly.

“They’re helpful, yes, but how much freedom are we going to have? It’s..” she unfolded her arms with a level of exasperation that came out in a long drawn exhale. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels somehow hypocritical. Or like we’re back a few squares from where we were. Even if those squares were…always somewhat ephemeral.”

“What does this mean then? Every time they pick up their banners, we go to war alongside them? Is choice in our new galactic government’s vocabulary?” The Sith had Imperial attention for now, but the New Order’s personnel had captured Maynard before –– when the Imperials sought to turn against The Alliance. Even if it hadn’t been intentional. Or prolonged.

“It means we do what's best for Concord Dawn, it’s as simple as that. They’re our people now, the people we serve and do our best by- whatever it takes to do that...is what we’ll do.” Maynard says with an almost solemn conviction.

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G H O S T
i will bleed for better reasons this year
X-WING | FLIGHTSUIT | LIGHTSABER | FRANK
12/12 RAIDER SQUADRON
IT TAKES TIME TO COME BACK FROM LOSING YOUR MIND

​

With a knowing look, Loske’s eyes matched with Maynard’s in what was a preflight ritual by now. It always manged to time just before their canopy's sealed over the humans inside.

Settled into the acceleration chair, an Imperial crew began wiring her with cords and umbilicals to the ship. They weren’t Alliance crew, they were Imperials and while their overarching mandate didn’t sit easy with her, she tried to focus on the positives of the government that had consumed Concord Dawn. The individuals weren’t so bad.

And! On the brightside, they made short work of the operation and skittered away before she had to signal, taking the boarding ladder with them. Frank was already nestled in his compartment and hooked up to the system. The kill-marked helmet rested on the dashboard, and she quickly spun her hair into a loose, tight bun and jerked the protective gear over her head.

The green to deploy came through over her dashboard, and in sequence, every starfighter registered under Treicolt Squadron –– a temporary but endearing moniker for the collection of Protector and Galidraani pilots –– would see the same thing. The reality for their coalition of pilot was The Protectors were still growing, and didn’t have the numbers for a full twelve-person squadron. Admiral Ravenot had been so kind as to fold in some of his own.

In the enclosed rectangle of Epitaph II’s hangar, the steady thunder of ship after ship activating their engines was overwhelming. Ready to go, she added another monstrous din to the sequence.

It was like this every time before a squadron belched into the void. They were no longer individuals. No longer Imperials or independents. Something now bound them to each and every man and woman in the cockpit. Something beyond governments and mandates -- purpose.

Roll call sounded systems incoming as operational or otherwise. She piped up on cue: <Bl––> she caught herself and smiled, giving a small head shake only she could see. Tough habit to break, and she was the first to slip up.

The call sign she’d sported since rookiehood no longer had a place for her after the metamorphosis Shursia forced. Beyond the physical change of ocean blue eyes faded to ghostly white, the memories of jovial sporting amidst comrades were faded and hard to see. Like ghosts and silhouettes in her mind, floating about unattached to anything important. It had only been attached to the purpose of being a soldier, dutiful to a government with an underlying concept she aligned with, but grew exhausted of its distractions. She was something else now, maybe they both were after it all –– something stronger. More focused on selfish desires and all the protection those dreams demanded and tenacious in protecting that vista until it was reached.

Perhaps more practically though, the last time they’d entered a battle like this she’d been Friendly Blue –– and the paralleled circumstances were uncanny between the mixed bag making their temporary Raider squadron, and all the mess in the atmosphere. Muscle memory took over all too readily. Her readout pulsed indicatively and the double wings split apart to display the iconic X the fighter was known for. Wing-mounted armaments and quadruple engines now deployed for maximum firepower and maneuverability.

<Ghost> She corrected <– Raider 2 - checking in, systems green and ready to go.>

Similar sentiments were mimicked from the collection of starfighter aficionados until the final go-ahead was given and the rolling fighters roared into launch.

Turned out, there was negligible difference between deploying from an Imperial hangar versus an Alliance hangar.

If there were any, now was no time to draw comparisons, despite the helpful tunnel created by the larger vessels.

Instantly, her dashboard lit up with varying degrees of concern, plotting and reporting back all the obstructions in their proximity. Smaller than the renderings of friendly and enemy relative locations, clouds of dots appeared on her display,–– energy readings littered her radar –– flashing warm colours that made it almost useless outside of her primary weapon targeting system before Frank overrode them and recognized debris as the source. A charted deployment route highlighted and her nav computer adjusted to reroute to match the suggestion; the most optimal launch to use the tightly-focused benefit the shieldships had created for them.

Fragments from the first wave littered against the blackness of space –– they were near enough to be visible against the vacuum without sensors. Remnants of hulls, engines, and airlocks floated harmlessly in clusters. Every now and then, a piece of shrapnel would catch the omnipresent glow of the atmosphere and shimmer a warning.

And yet, it felt safe. In a cocoon of durasteel and familiarity, where nobody could touch her. Affect her mind or manipulate any part of her known or unknown chemistry. It just made sense for her first re-emergence into the battle against The Sith Empire to be in the cockpit of her X-Wing.

The last few campaigns of both Stygian and Braxant, she’d been on the wrong side. Consumed by a parasite, Shursia, that endangered the lives of her loved ones. After much tribulation, she was finally in a position to protect them again. To continue proving their forgiveness was worth her repayment in retribution.

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ALLIES | NIO | Maynard Treicolt | Eskel Ravenot | OPEN
ENEMIES | TSE | N Nyxeris | OPEN

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Vjun Caverns, underneath Bast Castle
Objective: 2
Allies: Djorn Bline Djonas Val Kolson Vrask Seydou of Thyrsus Joren Loft
Enemies: DarrVack
Equipment: Imperial Knight Battle Armor, Crossguard Lightsaber


Jin had chosen to aid in the strike of Vjun, although he would have liked to begin his investigations into the Maw, the front had now shifted. War had resumed, and the short peace that would last for only a period of months, was now at an end. Jin had to answer the call that came of the Imperial Knights. To serve your Order well, even if to die in it's service. It was the Fortress of Bast Castle. As soon as he emerged with the invasion force, something felt odd about the world. As if the world held a tie to him that he could not explain nor fathom even as both the Force could not explain to him what was the nature of the events. What was drawing him to a place so steeped in darkness and decay.

Yet he came and so did others, his group was tasked with sneaking through the underground to enter Castle Bast and destroy it. Imperial Knights, and Special Forces alike, while the bulk of the force would land and strike from the beaches. It was now considered a race to see who would succeed, the military might, or the infiltration unit. Jin followed, not saying a word yet in his mind. Even as the ground shook, and the thunder of explosions was heard through the caves, he felt the same aura stay with him. Not much was known to him about Castle Bast, but to only know that it had served as a sanctum for Darth Vader and others long after him who took up residence within the Castle. Something was now telling the young man was that there was more to this place that he didn't know.

As if something was speaking to him, calling out to him, he only walked in darkness and listened, sharing some misgivings about blowing up such a piece of history, but never one to go against orders he pressed on. Even doing so, as time started to pass the darkness creeped into his mind, as if a fog that while nothing seemed too out of the ordinary for the moment. That did not matter after a span of a few hours. Soon he found himself dragging behind the main group. Others had gone ahead, and now he was left to wander alone in the darkness. As if one candle lit against the unending abyss.

Anxiety creeped up on him, his droid leg felt as if it had gone tense. He could hear what he thought was a howl within the cave, and then a deep rumble. Something he wasn't sure if it was only himself, or had affected all around him, he nervously carried on. His saber ignited to help spread the light against the darkness. Within the next half hour it only went stranger from there, as he started to feel a voice creep into his head. Something that seemed almost hypnotic, something that had touched his soul and yet turned his head to the many pathways. Subdued by what the voice said.

"Come and Seek Me."

The voice sounded something sickly tempting, and while every instinct told Jin to run, catch up with the main group. His mind told him to seek out what was whispering to him. What was happening all around. For a moment he stopped, and contemplated such a paralyzing decision, his legs felt like bags of sand dragging him down. He shook his head, and pressed onward coming to a path different from where the others were. Slowly wondering if it was another path that would lead into the castle, or just a dead end? He followed in, and when he did he did with caution, more darkness continued to envelop, where the dark side itself was starting to distort his vision. For a moment what appeared in front and around him, was the appearance of Sith Troopers, no something more elite and covered in black. He reacted quickly, jumping back and raising his blade in a defensive stance, yet something was odd?

The trooper himself did not seem to react quickly to attacking Jin, yet only looked at him, and soon he found himself all around. Confused by what was happening. All he could do was slowly walk around these shadowy figures that manifested before him.
More appeared and did not do anything. he was starting to wonder if he was suffering from dark side corruption, exposure from being in the cave for too long? No, it was something else that was here. Even more appeared, and then what seemed more frightening was a tall behemoth that was walking ahead. Covered in dark trappings, and seemed something that he himself did not know of. His power too strong that Jin felt like it was pulling him down. Who was this? Was this the Emperor?

The being he saw next, another shadow that was walking beside the monster that appeared to be leading the way, was a being that wore a dark red cloak of sorts. A dark metal mask, and armor with a crossguard saberstaff of sorts on the back of this man. Moving up to get a closer look, he saw what looked to be a dark silver metal, but the helmet is what shocked him. The helmet was a mixture of Mandalorian, Ubese and Sith design. Looking closer there were some nods to Lord Vader within the helmet, and then the realization hit him, as he took a step back with a gasp.

"Father!?"

The mask of the deceased First Order Warlord Kyrel Ren. What was he doing here? What was even happening, he was surrounded all around by some figment of his imagination, or perhaps the Force was at work here, maybe there was a reason for him to be here. Something that he did not know. "Ghosts and Shadows..... I need answers. " He said determinedly As he could only walk with the ghosts of the soldiers, the big man, and his father on the path of the unknown and purpose within this dark cave. Force knows what would only come from this.

 

[Ulrich]

Objective 1 Spearhead Veers.

Equipment : Plattenpanzer , Kriegertod

Opponent: Viers Connory

Among the gargoyles I sat, motionless for hours before the coming battle. Stillness is not hard to bear for one such as I. Were I to enter a true state of hibernation the Zuguruk artificers who had worked on this fortification could simply encase me in rock and I would be little different from the grotesques whose perch I shared. Perhaps I would one day have such a bastion fashioned for myself perhaps by the hands of the living, or more likely through the chill grasp of the dead. Speaking of the dead they infested the very stone of the place. Castles more so than most objects in the spiritual plane act as a prime lodestone to the shades of the deceased. Public perception and myth held these ancient fortifications as the haunts of the departed and through the shaping of the collective conscious of countless species they had become as such.

This location had drawn its fair share of genius loci from among the tragedies and massacres that had been perpetrated within its walls. So I call to them in a voice unheard by the quick, speaking spells ancient while the old republic was in its infancy. Specters rise to meet my call for they know that their anchor to the material plane is being threatened. That which holds them fettered to the plane of the physical is even now being pummeled by the heavy thud of cannons and the sizzling surges of plasma. Without this redoubt their souls would be cast forth into chaos. Not even the most insane of spirits desired the flamed of pit to scour their essence and so they fought.

Seeking vessels with which to house themselves the gargoyles across the merlons began to flex their stone talons wings stretching to throw off the dust of ages. Each stone form host to a legion of spirits animated by my will and magic. With me they rise a flock of predators taken to the wing. Armored plates gleam in queer light of battle, reflecting flame and blaster bolts both. Heavy artillery designed to pummel the walls of a castle is far too ungainly to target my squadron of the dead. Some soldiers gape as the impossibility of stone forms born aloft not by simple wings but the unnatural power of the risen dead fall upon their warmachines.

A few of the combatants manage to regain their wits reaching for launchers and blowing a number of my troops into chunks of rock and masonry with hand held rockets. But these are in the minority and with weighty thuds the gargoyles land upon the tanks and weapons platforms. What follows is short and exceedingly brutal. Hatches are ripped open, barriers of metal torn asunder and then the dead are upon the living. Teeth of granite gnash at entrails , and claws of basalt tear skin.

For my part I descend upon a tank, bringing my mace down to crush the machines main cannon. Feeling the impact of the blow resounding through my limbs I reach a claw over to the hatch next to the cannon before peeling it away to view the crew within. I speak the words to an incantation and from my lips surges a jet of fire hungry for the crew inside.

Let those who would challenge me come. Life is war, as is death and I am master of both.

 

[Vesta]

LOSING MY RELIGION​

Vjun

Objective not yet known​

Location: Castle Bast​

Equipment: Lightsaber | A Knife​

Allies: The Sith Empire | Darth Daiara ​

Enemies: New Imperial Order | Nukth Kelga'an & Friends​

​

Trust.

Five letters never carried so much weight until it was the burden keeping you on your knees, keeping you weak. She'd figured the term for the people tethered to her by trust, attachments, was just a figure of speech - how naive. Though she could shift her shape, change her form, Darth Mori lived with the scars that curved and twisted up her midsection not as a badge of honor but as a mark of shame - shame that she had grown so weak that self-mutilation had become preferable to coming to terms with reality - and a reminder that she had devolved into little more than an animal when purported "pure" emotions were allowed reign of her mental faculties. Love?

She scoffed at the thought, the knife in her hand plunging deeper into the gap between the ribs of the Sith Lord that had enjoyed her father's ignorance for far too long. Fatal for any other, this wench was tethered to the soul of her cousin and would merely fade into a shade if forced into death's cold embrace. A titanic grip anchored the woman, a snake, in the body she now writhed in pain with. "Can you feel it, Aneshe?" She whispered, her words carried in the stale air upon the breath that escaped her lips. "That is pain." The Shi'ido continued as she pushed hard, twisting the blade to the right. "A fraction of the torment my father experienced when you took my mother from him, devouring her, and nothing compared to the devastation he felt when she was lost forever."

"But she isn't, is she?"

Her lips were hardly a hair's breadth away now from the ear of the woman that had now sunken to her knees, to Darth Ananta. "You don't frighten me." The timeless Sith spat, defiant to the end. "No, I suppose I don't, it's hard to be afraid when you forget the most important fact of life, dear dreamer." Mori mused, chuckling as she moved the hand gripping the Sith northwards to the base of her neck and gripped her tight. "I am eternal, a cycle - I know more than you ever will, infant." The weakening Sith retorted. "Oh? Then you ought to remember." She teased, her voice smug as the physical contact with the older woman barred her soul a path to escape from a now-certain demise. Stirrings of confusion, of partial concern, of mild panic, crept into the older woman's eyes and caused her voice to waver as she realized that she was being played. "Remember what?"

"Remember we die."

-

Darth Carnifex hadn't needed to end the parasite himself, his cousin had done the job for him - though perhaps against his wishes, and perhaps to his detriment. War was on the horizon over Vjun, ships clashing in the space high in its orbit while soldiers came down to lay siege to the storied planet, but Darth Mori hadn't placed herself in Castle Bast to thwart their goals, not this time. Like a scalpel the knife she'd cut into the Sith Lord now slain had torn through the veil between the material and spiritual, ripping the fringes of her mother's soul from the tiny bundle of ethereal material that had made up the amalgamation of souls that was Darth Ananta, a being no longer - not a body nor a soul left to creep back into existence. "Her mother returns, why not mine?" She mused with a grin, the blade she carried now all the catalyst she needed to resurrect a woman she'd never met.

The woman that had given her life.

Braith Achlys.

 

[Darth Daiara]

VJUUN CRASHSITE | Zaavik Perl​

Light.

The heat of his saber seared away the liquid streaming down her face. She shied away, grimacing against the harsh contrast.

"Zaavik," she choked, her fingers reaching up for him. She wanted to lift herself out. Freedom felt so close, but the bar in her shoulder kept her trapped.

It was impossible not to think of Kyber Dark. She could feel Bastion's brick wall scraping her behind her.

She could feel the courtyard statue carve through her gut. Her mind played tricks on her. Phantom blood bubbled up her throat, the scars of her psyche not letting her forget.

This was not the time to lose her wits.

"My shoulder, I'm trapped," She groped at him, her grip like a vice as it found his sleeve. She was pale, her grip clammy. There was a wild edge to her eyes as she tried to claw herself out.

"Don't leave me like this. You can't leave me like this."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

P R O T E C T O R
PROTECTOR OF CONCORD DAWN
RAIDER SQUADRON
SCREAMING FOR VENGEANCE
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | PISTOL

-01:00 HOUR
NIV 'EPITAPH II' MODIFIED LEGATE-CLASS BATTLECRUISER​

Bisecting the tallied lines she’d added on top of the paint job, Loske stood up from her position and tucked the brush into a pocket of her jumpsuit.

“That looks about right.”

Frank imitated a sigh with a sounding tone that started from high to low.

“You can’t just paint over the tallied kills, Frank. If I had a new paint job and no personality or visual record, I’m gonna look like a rookie.” The astromech rocked side to side on the S-foil wing, about to interject and she flicked up a finger, pointing intensely in his direction with a flared spark of mischief “Don’t say it. Don’t even think about it. You’d be insulting yourself too.”

At familiar sounds of The Protector’s arrival, she slid toward the S-foil’s forward edge and peered in the direction her husband appeared from. He’d been sporting the Journeyman colours almost religiously since being entrusted with them and the title that came alongside it. The prodigal protector.

Capturing the oppressors that had been pillaging through Harlan’s homesteads was almost routine, and it was easy to slip into muscle memory. The greatest pattern break was sticking around long enough to see the aftermath and outcomes. Ever since they’d felt those little arms wrap around them and witnessed the sheer joy and relief from the reunited families, things had kicked up a notch on the unbelievable scale. Maynard and Loske’s dedication to Concord Dawn was being repaid with trust.

Making a sweeping gesture to encompass the shape of her starfighter, she leveraged herself down from the wing back to the solid ground, looking up at the underbelly and giving a nod of approval.

Buddy and Frank’s extensions had been temporarily replaced with nozzles to update their X-Wings to better mirror the Protector’s aesthetic. They’d even gone so far as to buff out all the lingering dents, scrapes, scorches from their days with the Defense Force. It was almost like starting….completely over. While maintaining the comforts and familiarity they elected to preserve.

“Now we’re looking the part.” She observed, grinning but peeking past the leg of her X-Wing to the rows of Fanged fighters parked behind. “Almost. Still a pair of Jetiis standing out just a bit.”

Clutching the T-visor helmet under his arm, it certainly was a change of pace from Saber Squadron, being the foolhardy gunslinger pilots they were not months before. Though in truth, that only came with the uniforms and colors they donned. There was no shaking their operational habits and behavioral patterns from their time in the GADF. Hopefully, it’d translate to similar successes here, even though their increase in command and responsibilities might have drawn them to the ground and eventually, bitter defeats.

They ruled the skies.

“Always have- been awhile since I’ve seen you in that flight suit...granted- always seems like its ‘been awhile’ everytime we actually ever get to fly. Just- don’t get offended if I call you ‘Blue’ out there.” He offered with a grin in her direction, the last they’d share before taking the reins of their respective flying death traps.

“Just don’t get too rusty on us, babe.” Maynard remarked, pulling his helmet over the scarred gaze once more.

Time to fly.

-00:00 HOUR
VJUN ORBIT

ANIMUS VOX
RAIDER SQUADRON 12/12
MK. IV Fang-class Starfighters
PROTECTOR STARFIGHTER CORPS
X-Wing​

Those pale, ghostly eyes focused on him one last time as the hydraulic hiss of the canopies slowly lowered to seal and pressurize the cockpit of the X-Wing, New Imperial naval personnel moving to unfasten fuel hoses, disengage the landing gear and thumb Maynard in the cockpit that they were good to go, the rank he carried deserving a salute as well to which Maynard practiced a mirrored, more informal gesture in return.

The Imperials might've stood in kind against something he valued...freedom. The personal determination to make the best of one's self by their own will alone. However, in these Imperials there was purpose, there was a drive, there was unity. All of which drove the very same vessels of obligation and motivation that send the Galactic Alliance to war. Hope of a return home, doing what was right...revenge. All the same, just in shades of black silver.

<"Protector Treicolt, this is Admiral Ravenot,">
<"You're clear to deploy. I doubt our flight is going to be this quiet for much longer.">

<"Understood, Admiral. As soon as they come we'll knock out priority targets and start hitting 'em where it hurts. Lotta debris out there today...wouldn't mind making more of it out of 'em."> Maynard said, projecting that confidence he always seemed to carry behind the sticks. If there was anywhere he'd felt the most in control, it was here. In spite of it only being a precious few inches of metal composite and glasteel between him and the endless void, there was few better than him.

Around him, he witnessed the stark black and white 'Fang' interceptors lift from the deck of the hangar bay. Being one of the few hangar bays reserved for larger fighter length ships, the Protector's vessels packed between heavy bombers and shuttles it was an easy exit once they were off the ground.

The more conventional New Imperial starfighter corps, had a more direct and violent means of entering the fray through their racks which helped them pack rows and columns of the vessels out of the working space of the hangar bays and when the time came become the swarm- all but exclusively traveling in packs and formations with a numbers advantage in order to intimidate the enemy. That violent, characteristic scream of the twin ion engines in contrast to the smooth roar of Maynard's X-Wing and accompanying ships served a stark contrast.

A seemless exit through the pale blue deflector and they were in the void again, meaning it was time to sound off.

<"This is Raider One, all wings report in."> He spoke through the T-visor helmet, a change in appearance from the patterned GADF flight helmet he'd been used to donning but the Mandalorian styled helmet certainly provided a luxury more sensory information than the Alliance's own. Which was usually left to project on the cockpit and consoles itself instead was brought right to the forefront of his vision within the heads up display. The only problem arose that the information came too cluttered to absorb all at once.

That was where instinct took control.

Loske was the first to sound off naturally. Ghost, rather. He cracked a grin at the sound of her new callsign, a sign of perseverance. He couldn't recall the last they'd flown together in combat but if only he knew then what it would take of both of them to be like that again. That subtle gesture proved rewarding in its own right.

But still, it was time to fly, time to make war.

<"Raiders...we're awaiting our targets...but no matter what, make sure this is the best day you'll have flying out here...because we're about it to make their worst. Remember, everyone...what it took of you to be right here, right now...how much you had to fight. Because it's not over yet- so long as they are here...they're gonna try and take it all away from you. But they are not bigger than you. They can be...and will be...killed. Any other result today and we've failed. Whatever Sith are in orbit of Vjun I can only hope are getting comfortable- because this is their final resting place. Understood?">

<"Affirmitive!"> The squadron sounded off in reply.

The s-foils of his X-wing pryed themselves apart as he set them into attack position, the rest of the squadron following the lead with their own fighters at the move. Switching channels to his forever XO, Ghost, he spoke up once more.

<"Don't think I didn't hear you almost say 'Blue'...here I was thinking I'd be the one forgetting."> He remarked, to ease himself back down.

ALLIES | NIO | CD | Loske Treicolt | Eskel Ravenot
ENEMIES | TSE | N Nyxeris

 

[Zaavik Perl]

VJUN CRASHSITE | Darth Daiara​

Zaavik grimaced at her demeanor, almost frozen as she snatched his sleeve. "Hey, I'm not going to leave you there, get ahold of yourself!" he admonished urgently. The gravity of the predicament was starting to really settle in past the concussive daze behind his eyes. Releasing his grip, he dropped his saber toward the floor. The pressure switch sent the blade back into the hilt as it clattered to the ground. The freed extremity gently pried her fingers from his sleeve. "I'm gonna get you out, just hold tight."

Uncrouching, he took a step back and called his weapon back to his hand. There was still one large piece of hull wreckage to deal with. It could have been so easy as to cut it to pieces, but that risked cutting Aradia or dripping molten material into the crevice. Retracting his backward step, he came forward and braced his hands against the edge. A long shot, but he had to unpin her somehow.

Every muscle that could contribute began to strain. A sustained grunt reverberated behind clenched teeth as fruitless attempts to lift went on for over a minute. No amount of adjustments or repositioning made any more difference than a minuscule budge. Labored breathing only paused for frustrated cursing.

An idea struck him. Zaavik went into a searching frenzy, digging through scraps until he found a long, metallic bar. The joints in his prosthetic fingers whirred with strain as the knockoff crushgaunt tech crimped the end until it was as flat as they could manage. Metal clanged on metal as he struck into the crack between the pinning piece and an object beneath.

Ten pummels later, it was wedged forcefully between. Using the object as a fulcrum, he positioned his body above and forced his arms down. The weight of his torso added enough force to create a loud pop after a few seconds. The large sheet that had Arada pinned shifted out from between other structures and skid askew. One good shove sent it sliding down the pile and out of the way.

Finally.

He climbed the pile again, tripping at least three times on the way up. Kneeling over Aradia, he could finally behold the worst of it. A stray rod had impaled through her shoulder from underneath. "Ah chit," he lamented involuntarily. The green blade returned again. Slowly, carefully, he'd cut the spar as close to her as he could safely achieve.

"Okay, uh-" The utterance held in a prolonged note. He was grimacing again, mouth slack. "Look, there's no easy way around it; this is gonna suck." His body dropped down, scooping her up beneath the opposite shoulder and her ribs on the impaled side. Without warning, he lifted and ripped straight upward off the stake. Unfamiliar blood ran down his arm as he dragged her a few feet to the side and propped her against the sturdy remnants of the ship's landing gear.

He dropped, splaying onto the ground opposite her, head spinning. Allowing himself to wallow in agony momentarily as if he'd forgotten they were in the middle of a warzone.

 

[Darth Daiara]

The agony was nothing compared to the relief.

The open sky made her feel weightless. Without the walls holding her down she could float up

up​

up...​

and never be touched again.​

The panic slowly released the muscles around her chest, allowing her to heave the fresh air unhindered. Her thoughts flowed easier, her wits returning to her. They had survived. She groped at her shoulder and turned, straining to see Zaavik clearly for the first time.


"Are you ok?" She gritted. As the shock let up, the pain began to creep through her. There were methods for dealing with it. She employed them at once, but it did little to stop the blood flowing freely from her system.

The kolcta geltab. Bloody fingers scrambled for her pockets, trying to pull the life saving medicine out for both of them.

"Here," she rasped, handing him a blood stained packet. Better than bacta, Ashin Cardé Varanin 's words echoed through her, the woman's lessons still with her.

The medicine was more expensive than gold, but worth every credit. Its healing effects would make a substantial difference in no less than five minutes. She shoved her own pill into her mouth and tried to force her way to her feet.

The battle for them hadn't even started yet.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

VJUN CRASHSITE | Darth Daiara​

Zaavik's chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Still supine, his eyes drifted toward Aradia as she addressed him. "I'll live," he dismissed with strained, breathy timbre. Everything ached. Cuts on limbs still burned, fractured ribs still brought agony. His head was foggy enough to make everything happening seem dreamlike.

He sat up, slowly returning to reality from dazed anguish. Seeing the hole in her shoulder, he began to blink as if he'd not realized the severity before. Taking the packet she'd offered with robotic movements, he hardly realized what he was accepting. "We gotta do something about that," he asserted. The pill packet rested in his open palm still. He stared down, realizing what it was.

"This stuff is good, but it's not a miracle." He threw off what was left of his now tattered jacket. A quick slice of a freed saber cut off a sleeve. What was left of it was discarded. The strike suit he'd taken with him after deserting on Ziost held up much better beneath it, but it was still in rough shape regardless.

The stray sleeve fluttered through the air toward her at a swing of his arm. "Bandage that up." The suggestion came in a tone that seemed at least twice removed from reality. He stood, swallowing the would-be almost-miracle pill while trying to stifle the spins in his whole body.

 

[Darth Daiara]

VJUN CRASHSITE | Zaavik Perl​

She grabbed the sleeve, catching one end in her teeth as she tried to get it around her shoulder. Her eyes followed him as she did so. He looked distant. Confused, but whole. She'd take it over dead any day, but it didn't make what they were up against any easier.

"Hey." She stepped into his field of view, her gaze alert and boiling with the pain she suppressed.

"Get your head in the game, we're here for the Imperials, remember?" The feckers had already gotten the better of them once. They couldn't let them get it again.

She shoved his sleeve into his chest and turned, giving access to the wound for help. She surveyed the scene as she did so, noticing the streets they had landed in for the first time. She had spent hours studying them on their way over. They were familiar.

"We're close."

Rain hit her eye. She flinched, a burning sensation ripping through her. Her head slowly tilted up.

"Feth. We need move." She jerked away from his work on her shoulder, the kolcta geltab pumping new found strength through her system. She didn't need to concentrate so hard on keeping her pain away. The edge was already starting to creep away.

See gripped at his arm, her gaze severe.

"Can you handle this one?"

It was almost as if she'd abandon the mission if he couldn't. Almost.

Shoving him in a crevice worked just as well.

*afk -> 5/24 for camping, sorry for the slight speedy posts on mah personal story Rika Hiro it's time bae, tagging you in. come at me

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Valeria Ragal / The Red Witch
Bounty Hunter, Intelligence Agent, Spy and Assassin​

Location: Surface, Vjun
Objective I.: Primo Victoria
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Kiss of the Red Witch | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Kaldrweave Coat | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Zaavik Perl (planned)

[ See me Fight ] ​

She had already found some clues in the woods, based on images in the sky, the war had already begun up there. There is not too much time left, if the fight spreads to the surface as well, it is possible that she will lose another clue that is needed to get her husband back. It may have been a long time, but she didn’t give up hope, she never will. For a moment, she let the feelings from the soulshard hug and comfort her as Adrian stroked her cheek and kissed her gently. The feeling was real, an echo, but Adrian may just be a hallucination, but for a woman he is very real.

After the scene in her mind, she started running in the direction she had to go. The Red Witch barely ran a hundred or two hundred yards when a damaged ship raced over her head and then crashed into the area where Ingrid was heading. Hoped it wasn't destroyed by all she was looking for, didn’t want to waste another clue, another opportunity; she felt she could no longer bear it. Others may not have seen it, but the time she spent without the soulshards had worn her out a lot, the torture didn’t, but Adrian’s lack did.

As she approached the crashed plane's area, suddenly sensed something that stopped her. One of the presences was familiar to her in the Force. As she recalled where and when she last felt this; to the woman it was as if she had been struck on her stomach with full force. Ingrid was immediately able to pair a face with the person. Before her spiritual eyes, a picture of Adrian appeared, only in a pink tone, and in a younger version.

Zaavik… At Zeltron, she promised him that if he needed help at any time, she would help. For the woman, the young man was also part of the family, and started hurrying to the crash site.

 

[Eva Betrik]

​

Location: Bitter End, Surface-to-Space Battery
Allies: TSE | N Nyxeris
Foes: NIO | Eskel Ravenot | Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt

Corporal Evalina Betrik, SICA, was glad to be back within her own nation's borders... even with the near-constant acid rain.

The attack on Muunilist had been a brutal introduction to war, and she wasn't sleeping well. When she closed her eyes to rest, Eva could still piles of corpses strewn across Harnaidan's packed market square, still hear the screams and the explosions, still feel the heat of blaster bolts as they whizzed past her face. When they'd called for volunteers, the propaganda officers had waxed poetic about a heroic infiltration mission that would pave the way for the Empire's glorious return to a planet stolen away by traitorous separatists. On the ground, it hadn't felt like that at all. Infiltrating a city for a week, getting to know it well, and then watching it burn... that had been strange.

Still, Eva was proud of her service. On her first combat deployment she had volunteered for a dangerous mission behind enemy lines, and she had served with distinction. With only about a year of training under her belt she had infiltrated a hostile planet, provided important recon, sabotaged key enemy infrastructure, and even faced down two Jedi without flinching. Well, okay, there had actually been a lot of flinching, and maybe a little bit of pants-wetting terror... but she'd kept her nerve overall, and she'd fought that fight with everything she had. She knew she'd done well, especially for such a green recruit, but by Typhojem had the whole thing given her haunting dreams.

Then again, everyone seemed to have nightmares in the city of Bitter End.

On a planet that was mostly Sith castles and hidden military installations, Bitter End was the largest civilian settlement... and naturally, it was cursed. The way Eva heard it, some power-hungry nobleman had launched some crazy experiment here centuries ago. The madness it had unleashed still echoed down the ages, insanity pooling like rain in the alleyways. The people here were pale and skittish, going about their business with their heads down and their body language closed off; the young corporal had yet to have anything that qualified as a conversation with one of the locals. There was good news, though: the local dining specialty was Crêpes Malreaux with acid beets.

In exchange for her one true love, pancakes of all kinds, Eva was willing to overlook a little unfriendliness.

The Soullex SICA militia had been deployed to Bitter End to help defend the Surface-to-Space battery there. It had been installed there when Darth Arcanix had revitalized the city, and remained the only thing of any importance in the entire region; although local fishermen brought in huge quantities of whip-smelt from the Bay of Tears (sheesh, did everything on Vjun have a depressing name?), the fish was mostly eaten locally. That was probably because it didn't taste very good, and it stank like a boot camp locker room. Eva wasn't sure she would ever get the smell out of her uniform; it covered the docks in a choking cloud, drawing swarms of scavenging pirate gulls.

The Sith Empire had known that an NIO retaliatory strike was inevitable after the invasion of Muunilist, and the SICA had set about preparing for the counterattack. The civilians of Bitter End had been ordered indoors, with the city placed under martial law and a strict curfew. That was mostly to keep them out of the way while Eva and her fellow scorched-earth guerrilla warfare aficionados booby-trapped the streets surrounding the Surface-to-Space battery. If anyone tried to capture Bitter End, or more importantly the huge cannons nestled in its heart, they would face a maze of IEDs, monofilament nets, and sniper nests. The SICA would fight for every block.

Hidden on a rooftop a few streets over from the cannon base, Eva watched as the colossal ion pulse cannon and plasma railgun turned toward the skies in tandem, calculating targeting solutions against the NIO fleet. She couldn't even see what they were aiming at, but she knew they were astoundingly accurate. After a moment of tracking upward, their barrels twitching with minute adjustments, the big guns opened fire. The sound was like the crackling and popping of a campfire, only a hundred times louder, and the light of each blast was near-blinding. Eva averted her eyes, instead watching the blue and purple shadows that pulsed over Bitter End's streets with each shot.

With any luck, every one of those blasts was slamming into an NIO warship high above.

 

[Lady Marrow]

​

Tag: Aaran Tafo / Arctus Silmar / Shuklaar Kyrdol
Objective 1: Beachhead Madine / Coronation
Equipment: The Marrow Blade, Amulet

She could feel the power of the item she gripped in her right hand, the power of the darkside signature which plumed off of it was something incredible, something that she had never felt before. It spread across the vicinity in wave-motions, pulsing and penetrating her body as well as everyone elses who got too close as if to irradiate them with the light it gave off. She could remember having this key put into her hands by her master, trusted with one of, if not the most important part of this mission, this coronation. She was to be the herald of it all, the herald of her master as well as so much more.

Clenching the item as though her life depended on it, she would rally within the walls of the tower, attacks, she could hear over the radio the famed 501st was amongst them, putting others here on edge, the name that rang true as the personal guard and hunter killers of one of the most dangerous men to ever walk the face of the Galaxy, and they were here attacking the Sith they had once served eons ago. But the rolling tides that crashed into the sandy beaches of one of the Siths worlds were not the first, nor would they be the last, but they had been crashing against them for so long... Lady marrow wondered if this tide would ever recede. But for now, she had been given a task, and she was going to see it through.

Picking herself up, she would look over any and all who would gather around to ensure that the path to a place for this gem could be found. There was one overlooking the bay, on a rise enough for them to plant it. The result would see their enemies boxed in, and it would prove to be a risen stage overlooking Castle Bast. In earnest, even she didn't know the reasoning for the gauntlet she and whoever intended to go with her was for. She was told by Arctus, by The Shaper that her mission was imperative, and that was enough. The man who had been kind to her, the man who had shown her so much of the universe and tapped her into knowledge she could never have imagined before had asked her to perform a task with severity, and she answered. This time... this time it wasn't a game... not this time.

"Our mission is to make it to the northern rise overlooking the bay they're attacking from. The raised ground is a good place for the Imperials to bunker down. So things may get rough. But we need to break through and get this there. But I'm going to need all of you, I don't think I'd be able to do this alone..."

She'd nod, there hadn't been extensive scanning in the area, they were likely running in blind and enemy ships had been coming down with all sorts of things for a while now. For all they knew the enemy could be at the gates. But, taking the artifact in tow, she would salute the men and women who would be accompanying. It was time to move, to exit the breach and charge into the unknown, so she would stalk for the gates, expanding her marrow blade in her other hand as the beaming blade of phosphorescent destruction in brilliant red. But this time she didn't flinch, she'd become used to the bite as the green tendrils would cut through the red until the blade lay emerald.

The doors would open, and it was time to move.
​

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Allies: The Sith Empire.
Opposition: The New Imperial Order.
Starship: The Chimera - Modified S-161 "Stinger" XL.
Location: Vjun Space.

​

Word had reached Dromund Kaas of the New Imperial Orders' Fleet quickly after they'd been detected encroaching upon the Nuiri sector inbound for Vjun; the confirmation of an attack upon the Sith World resulting in the call to arms of any military and sith personnel in the sector of the Vjun System, as well as back home within the Sith Academy where Valen had volunteered himself and his Modified Corvette for immediate assignment.

His Orders were simple, rendezvous with the Sith Fleet and aid in the defence of Vjun, eradicating the opposition with extreme prejudice.

Seated within the primary station of the Cockpit, Valen watched as the stars blazed past them in streams of light as they shot through hyperspace toward the battle over Vjun, his mind on the coming battle ahead of them while his co-pilot, an OMYN-series Battle Droid named Vee-Cee (VC-817) watched over the vessel's flight systems and battle preparations, giving the Sith Acolyte the needed time to poise himself before all hell would be loosed upon them.

This would be a battle of a different kind for Valen, the Acolyte who had always resorted to swordsmanship and the Dark Side of the Force to overcome his opponents would instead have to utilize the Chimera in a full-scale warzone. He was not a Naval Officer or personnel of any kind trained in that form of maritime tactics, yet he knew the ship well and with the Force there to aid in his senses, amplifying his reaction times and seeing what the eyes could not, Valen hoped that it would be enough to make a difference in the coming fight.

"Five minutes out, Master Valen" Vee-Cee announced to the Acolyte's left, the droid turning briefly away from his station to look to the young man; "Any final orders Sir?".

"As soon as we drop out of hyperspace, raise shields and get us eyes on the enemy fleet. I want to know where the enemy is and where we're needed most. Contact our Fleet and inform them of our arrival" Valen replied, his words spoken hastily as he looked one last time over the Chimera's primary systems, all of which came up green. There wasn't anything left to do but await those final few minutes.

"Understood Sir. Two minutes remaining".

Valen closed his eyes and reached out to the Force for guidance. The Dark Side flowed strongly around him and the vessel which he had inhabited often, his primary transport throughout the Galaxy, many an assignment had been carried out via the use of the vessel, yet still nothing like this. Wielding a lightsaber was so much simpler, every move was committed to in body and mind...-But seated there inside a tin can, even one as advanced as the Chimera, Valen felt so detached from the usual sense of control that he felt when fighting on the surface.

"Dropping out of Hyperspace in three....-Two....-One....-Disengaging!".

 

[Augustus Tassar]

☩ Imperator of the Rim-Guard Order ☩

➣ Objective: I. Spearhead Veers
➣ Location: Deployment Area Allied Imperial Forces
➣ Gear: Agema Armor, Sarissa, Princes Folly (Paladinblade), Eternal Halo (pers. shield generator), holoprojector
➣ Assets: 3rd & 4th Banner (350 Paladins), 9x Dreadnought Wardroids, 45x Excidium-class Tanks
➣ Tag(s): DECEASED Erskine Barran , Henry Lucan (Allies)

⮚ THEME​

Vjun. Old fortress world of one of the most infamous Sith Lords, Darth Vader. A red rock with green, acid rain which the Sith and their Empire occupied and fortified once again, using the remnants of Castle Bast to make it a fortress of their own. Now as part of their crusade against everything Sith and Dark in this Galaxy the New Imperial Order invades this place of ancient evil and seeks to destroy the presence of Sith for good. The Rim-Guard Order stands ready to support this honorable goal and its allies in heart and mind with full force.

Augustus was the first one of his troops to set foot onto the barren planet, he calmly walked out of the Stormeagle, his command team walking out behind. The tall praetorian did not have this helmet on as he left the lander, standing protected from the rain beneath one of the wings of the gunship, his head right next to missiles and weapons. Tassar was the only one without a helmet as his battle-brothers and -sisters quickly dismounted the transports to get into formation.

He raised his heavily plated arm, servos whirring as he tried to eclipse the idea of a sun behind the smoggy clouds which were pouring sour rain onto the nearly dead soil. It looked very odd to see this mountain of a human, in the heaviest battleplate performing an action which would more fit a young boy. The warrior took down his arm and looked at his troops, satisfied that they had used the time to form up in ranks.

The Rim-Guard Order had landed in a small valley very close to the forces of DECEASED Erskine Barran , Stormeagles bringing in both the paladins as well as the supplies while heavy landers took care of the tank and wardroid support. They would advance together with the armored Galidraani, the New Imperials had already experience with the Orders troops, gathered in the tough battle on Ilum.

The young man stepped out of the cover of the wing and the rain would harm his skin, but it was caught, half a meter above his head, the drops were stopped by some invisible field of energy, the Eternal Halo doing its work, even though it would stress the energy supply, this constant minor annoyances. But Augustus wanted to see, feel and taste this planet first hand before enclosing himself in his Agema armor, it was a habit.

"Status reports."

Augustus always had a soft and melodic voice, very pretty as a boy, but the altering process to become one of the Agema had changed that completely and transformed it into a deep, dark tone which could easily be heard and not overheard.
The collar-integrated com-link had transmitted his voice to each of his lieutenants, each commanding a portion of their forces. As usual and common within the Order, he had selected them himself, he knew everyone under his command by name and even a bit of background, it made him rather popular and respected, opposite to the pure and tremendous amount of Marcus for example, who was distant and cold, but utterly efficient. Tassar was more personal.

"3rd Banner ready at your command, Imperator." It was Princeps Primus Rhobar, fiercely devoted and always eager.
"4th in position." The other Princeps Primus, Atia Gorgo, she was stern and serious and very direct with her words.
"1st Palatina Tank Group at your service, Imperator Tassar." Ahhh. Legate Urienz de Welt that fethhead, the slight sarcasm in his extremely formal report gave Augustus a slight smirk.
"Group. Canis. Rex. Ready. Awaiting. Orders." The wardroids were a nice addition to the firepower of the task force and would surely prove useful by the end of the day.

"Rhobar, send Gorns and Varaks cadres as vanguard to establish contact with the Galidraani. The 3rd follows suit, Gorgo's 4th after. Urienz, put your tanks on the flanks. The dreadnoughts at the end of the column. Battle ready. Sensors on maximum, flanquers out. Aeterna Victrix!"

☩ ☩ ☩ ​

The troops of the Rim-Guard set off to make contact with their allies, marching on with both flank- and vanguard even though scans and reports said the enemy would be definitely in their fortifications and not out here. It was not due to Tassar being too cautious, it was just plain and simple standard to properly secure against the most unlikely possibilities. And, it was not that they could not be seen in their red capes, golden armor and massive tanks and wardroid walkers. And additionally, they could be heard . . . .

"LEGIO, AETERNA, AETERNA, VICTRIX!"

The ranks of the paladins were chanting their march. It was awe-inspiring, several hundred large warriors, clad in golden plate armor, capes of blood-red flowing from their shoulders and they marched in perfect formation and step, standards high and with their arms ready.

Without incident they appeared chanting at the Galidraani positions, the vanguard had establish eye contact and called a clear sign, waiting for the main body to pick them up and marching on. The Rim-Guard Order had arrived at the front and was more than ready to throw itself into battle.

Augustus Tassar was walking at the head of the coloumn, the helmet still fixed to his belt while the sarissa was horizontally in his right hand grip. He would approach whoever looked like to be in charge of the armoured troops and offered a slight bow of his head.

"Imperator Augustus Tassar of the Rim-Guard Order. My pleasure and honour to meet you."

For anyone meeting him for the first time it must be shocking. He was a tower of a man, far more than seven feet, clad in a whirring suit of power armor adorned with displays of heroic battles, a red cape drapped around his shoulders and back, but his face. He looked like he was barely 20, youthful and even kinda soft. But his voice was so deep, commanding and even charismatic as it seemed honest and friendly. Confusing for anyone not used to it.
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