Diplomacy Unholy Union: The Frontier

[Mercy]

Sarrish, Challenge Hex Beta, Kinyen, Noe'ha'on

Darth Strosius Madrona A’Mia Quinn Varanin CT-312 Varin Mortifer Revna Marr Sumire Raiza​

The hungry masses are spreading through the inner exterior of that cloud. The Sith, once divided, are now working hand in hand. Once separate from one another, they hunger for one planet after the other. It is a race in a way. A maddened rush to claim as much is possible, before the rest of the Galaxy catches on to what is happening right in front of their nose. The pause of one guard before the next arrives.

If they move too slow, the chaos of the Galaxy might swallow the worlds whole. Pirates hungry at the seams, ancient enemies awakening, who knows what can come to pass? But the Sith... they remember the call from the Core. They remember the order that was given from Throne.

There was no ambiguity in it.

Go forth and claim what you can. As quickly as you can. Bring to me these worlds and their allegiance, expand our territory until you are sick with avarice and your veins are running black with exhaustion.

Do what must be done. Make your Empress proud. Make me proud. Bring as many of them home and we will reward you.

This, your Sith'ari decrees.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Tame Sarrish
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Veyla Tass / Open!
--------------------------------------------

It had taken a matter of mere hours for Sarrish to take advantage of a brief gap in oversight. The border guard of the Blackwall had been shifted around, in the process of being rerouted and reassigned on a grand scale that of course left some windows of opportunity for those bold enough to seize them. As the people of Sarrish proved, they were just bold enough to do so. In a flurry of activity and confusion, the reserve forces left behind on the world were overwhelmed whilst temporary storage depots for armaments and vehicles were raided for all they were worth.

A hastily cobbled together Sarrish Defense Force, little more than a mob of locals and some officers with treacherous sentiments, was working to organize the planetwide revolt into something other than pockets of riots and unrest. A proper organized resistance movement that would ideally breach the Blackwall and make contact with the galaxy beyond, holding out to give neighboring systems a chance to intervene on their behalf. That was their goal at least, but one that was doomed to fail.

For the people of Sarrish weren't the only opportunists seeking to exploit the gap amidst troop movements, the Order of Wonosa was just as eager to get their hands on some additional war material themselves and even more keen on doing so without the notice of the larger Sith military forces maneuvering around them. As such by the time the first response deployments came to the world, they found it already besieged by Darth Strosius and a rather large contingent of His own forces.

Not the most trustworthy of allies on either side, but beggars and choosers and enemies of enemies and whatnot dictated that putting down the Sarrish Defense Force before they could establish themselves was the priority. Well, that was the priority for most of the Sith forces coming to Sarrish at least. As ever when it came to the Order of Wonosa, their goals were a bit more...reserved. Darth Strosius felt a blaster bolt ping off His gauntlet as He pulled His arm back, wrenching the would-be revolutionary standing before Him up into the air and then slamming them back into the ground.

Another blaster bolt sunk into His heavy robes before He snapped His crimson blade to the side and returned the next shot to its sender, their body hitting the ground in tandem with their compatriot's last choking breath as the Sith Lord stomped down upon them. It had been almost an hour since He hadn't had someone shooting at Him and thus in spite of His better judgement, He took a moment to breathe and glance around. Sarrish was burning.

Orbital and aerial control sat firmly with the Sith forces, the "Defense Force" hadn't had enough time to get any real number of starfighters and certainly no vessels off the ground before the Wonosan and then the greater Sith contingents had arrived. As such major places of resistance were simply being leveled, riddled with strafing runs and bomber payloads. The Wonosan soldiers had to become more aggressive to ensure that their prizes weren't being destroyed, surging into military outposts and depots all across the world in order to keep the aerial destruction at bay whilst they extracted the equipment from the cold dead hands of their foes.

Darth Strosius Himself had opted to join the fray personally rather than organize and direct in the rear, drawing as much attention as possible away from His soldiers so that they could do their work. A common enough arrangement that His officers and commanders knew how to operate without His oversight, even in a chaotic mess such as this one.

Yet for a few moments it seemed as though He'd made short work of those that had been sent to put Him down, exhausting whatever freedom fighters had been allocated to this particular sector of the planetwide warfront. As such He took a moment to collect Himself, stretching and rolling His tensed shoulders with a relieved hiss before extinguishing His lightsaber and clipping it back onto His belt. Perhaps He could spare a minute for a quick...sating of His thirst now that none of His forces were around to witness Him.

 

[Sumire Raiza]

SITH FIELD RECORD // SR-32

SUMIRE RAIZA

EXECUTIONER

LOCATION // Noe’ha’on

OBJECTIVE // MALEFACTION

TAGS // Siv Maloren | OPEN TO OTHERS

CONTAINMENT ALERT — RESEARCH WING C. PRIMARY ENCLOSURE BREACHED. SPECIMEN LOCATION UNCONFIRMED. ALL PERSONNEL MUST WITHDRAW BEHIND SECONDARY ISOLATION DOORS. AUTOMATED QUARANTINE IN PROGRESS.​

The alert replaced a half-finished incident report on the observation console. For a moment, the woman seated before it kept typing. Then the overhead lights dimmed, red lamps came on above the exits, and her fingers stopped against the keys. Beyond the reinforced window, the enclosure remained brightly lit. Water trickled from an irrigation nozzle into a bed of dark substrate.

One of the feeding restraints lay against the opposite wall, its mounting bolts still threaded through a broken piece of the floor. The thick cable attached to it disappeared beneath the observation platform. Her colleague leaned toward the glass, shading his eyes against the reflection of the warning lamps. He searched the enclosure from one end to the other before turning toward her.

"Bring up the cameras."

She opened the security feeds. The first showed the enclosure from above: disturbed substrate, an overturned feeding cradle, the restraint against the wall. She switched to the lower camera. Its lens was obscured by something smeared across the housing. The third feed showed an empty maintenance passage. Behind them, the observation-room door released with a heavy click. Both looked back. Through the opening, they could hear footsteps striking the corridor floor and someone shouting for the lift to be held. The woman pushed away from the console, but a new window appeared across the security feeds. She caught the edge of the desk and leaned close enough to read it.

"Secondary enclosure," she said. "It hasn't registered a seal."

"Leave it."

She pressed the control to close the inner containment shutter. Somewhere beyond the glass, a motor started, strained, and stopped. The floor carried the vibration through the soles of her shoes. Her colleague took her by the upper arm. Then something scraped beneath them. It was close enough that she felt the faint tremor through her hand on the desk. The sound moved slowly beneath the platform, paused, and resumed nearer the door. Her colleague's grip tightened. Neither of them moved while a loose fastener rattled against the floor grating. The computer sounded a second warning. She reached across the console and silenced it.

In the sudden quiet, they heard the metal beneath their feet begin to bend.

Sumire drew the hooked tip of her kama through the last section of the loading-bay door. Crimson plasma burned along the weapon’s inner curve, leaving the edges of the cut white-hot. As the metal separated, a blaster bolt punched through the opening and scattered molten droplets across her shoulder plate. She stepped aside, extended her free hand, and drove the severed panel inward.

The slab hit the gunman before he could fire again. His blaster rifle discharged against the ceiling as he fell, and Sumire followed the door through, boots finding purchase among the cooling fragments. Her second kama came free of its belt hook. Another curved strip of red ignited beneath its hooked frame, casting light across her knuckles.

A second guard stood behind a cargo loader with his carbine raised. She crossed the space while he adjusted his aim and swept her left kama through the weapon’s barrel. The severed length struck the floor between them. Before he could retreat, she drove her shoulder into his chest and pinned him against the loader.

“Drop it.”

His eyes settled on her right hand. She held the other kama beside his shoulder, its hook curving toward him. Heat singed the edge of his uniform collar.

He released the ruined carbine.

Sumire stepped back far enough to watch his hands. Across the bay, the first guard lay beneath the door panel, struggling to draw breath. His rifle had fallen beyond his reach.

“Stay,” she told them, then turned toward the interior entrance.

The briefing had placed the director’s offices beyond specimen receiving. Taking him alive would be easier if he was still at his desk, though the armed reception suggested someone had warned him. Sumire moved past a row of insulated transport cases, their restraint brackets open and waiting. A repulsor pallet hummed beside them. Someone had abandoned it while loading.

Then the alarm reached the bay.

A descending tone sounded overhead, followed by a woman’s recorded voice. “Quarantine in progress. Remain within your designated compartment.”

The guard beside the loader looked toward the interior doors. Sumire stopped within reach of the access panel. A narrow window showed an empty passage, bright white walls interrupted by alternating red lamps. At its far end, a shutter was descending.

“We need to get out of here,” the guard said.

Sumire glanced back at him. He had moved away from the loader, but his hands were still raised. His attention kept returning to the window. “On your knees.”

“You don’t understand. We can’t stay here.”

She turned her wrist, bringing the hooked point of her kama toward him. He lowered himself slowly, swallowing as his knees met the floor.

The shutter at the far end of the passage stopped short of closing. Sumire watched it rise a hand’s breadth, hesitate, then descend again. Something struck it from the other side with enough force to shake dust from its housing.

The guard flinched. His hands dropped, and he took a step toward the breach in the loading-bay door.

“Stay where you are.” Sumire moved beside the interior entrance, clearing the space directly in front of it. She kept one kama angled toward the guard and glanced back toward the opening through which she had entered. “The director’s offices are through there.”

Beyond the window, the shutter’s motor strained again. The guard shook his head.

“You’re not listening,” he said. “We have to leave.”

 

[Siv Maloren]

SIV MALOREN

​

---

LOCATION: Noe'ha'on | Research Laboratory
OBJECTIVE: Malefaction
INTERACTING WITH: Sumire Raiza

---

Siv Maloren wasn't opposed to violence, though he was hardly an expert in its application. He followed a short distance behind Sumire, his considerable height and imposing appearance suggesting a far more dangerous combatant than he actually was. He was content to let her handle the armed resistance. The guards had been an unexpected inconvenience, and while Siv was certainly capable of defending himself, he was pleased to discover that his companion was considerably more proficient at dealing with such interruptions.

With the introductory unpleasantness handled, Siv could devote his attention to what had brought him here in the first place. Noe'ha'on possessed an extraordinary variety of flora and fauna, much of it poisonous, and he had been particularly eager to examine the local specimens. The venomous insects and predatory K'lor'slugs were of considerable interest to him. Their natural toxins, the physiological mechanisms through which they were produced, and their potential applications in Sith alchemy presented a wealth of research opportunities. He was especially curious whether certain biological properties could be isolated and transferred to other organisms. The prospect of gaining access to a facility already studying the planet's wildlife had been quite exciting. He hoped its researchers had been thorough in their documentation.

Unfortunately, the situation had become rather less orderly than he had anticipated. Siv's attention settled on the kneeling guard. The man's distress was understandable, given that Sumire had just made remarkably short work of his colleagues. What puzzled Siv, however, was that the guard seemed considerably more frightened of whatever lay beyond the malfunctioning security shutter than of the two Sith who had forced their way into the laboratory.

That was interesting. He glanced toward the shutter, listening to the strained machinery and the impacts coming from somewhere beyond it. Whatever had escaped was evidently capable of damaging the facility's containment systems. Siv found himself increasingly curious about the specimen. He would very much like to know what the researchers had been keeping behind those doors, preferably before it made its way through them.

Approaching the guard, Siv lowered his tall, narrow frame into a crouch until his ivory mask was level with the man's face. His mismatched eyes, one a vivid orange and the other entirely white, regarded him with polite interest. Beneath the mask, a warm smile formed.

"Yes, you have said that a few times now," he observed gently, speaking with neither impatience nor any particular sense of urgency. "It would be most helpful if you could be a bit more concise on what exactly we should be scampering away from."
​

---

---

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

LOCATION: Kenyin
OBJECTIVE: Prevent possible Rebellion

Kenyin. A planet set with multiple biomes and resources to uplift The Sith. Once was held under the boot of The Sith Order, they have threatened rebellion. A trio of Sith have been sent down to deal with the situation. It happened quickly in the dead of night. A vicious assault on the Governors house, servants killed and family threatened. The forced Governor Lin Torman from his home and into Sith custody followed by a few of his higher ranking generals and eventually the Rebellion leader Kris Rein.

However, this was not an arresting operation. This was a lesson that no one was out of reach from The Sith.

Varin, Revna and Kaelyr had come to set an example. Setting the few free in multiple locations within the mountains and forests of the planet’s surface the trio were accompanied by an older Tuk’atta filled with hunting experience as well as some unblooded younger Tuk’atta hounds.

The prey was given thirty six hours to prepare in the middle of dense forests and stone. Prepping their own traps and their own little sanctuaries. Varin stood upon the deck of his Dreadnaught hanging just within orbit of the surface. Waiting for his hounds to be rounded up into their pods before he looked over to his Master and the aspiring Sith beside her.

His hands clasped behind his back, the new General of The Sith finally spoke.

“Our prey hides within the flora and fauna of the planet. Given ample time to prepare for our arrival.”

One of the officers flipped a few switches powering up drones that tracked each of their prey, recording everything they did but did not reveal their locations. The feed would possess any screen within the planet of Kenyin, running on every channel and unable to be shut off. These people were forced to see what happens when they reject their overlords.

“Hunting beasts is one thing. But if you corner a person and make them desperate, they can truly become far more dangerous.”

He stood before them.

“I requested the both of you to join me on such a special occasion to train my next generation of hounds and to hone your own skills.”

His gaze fell upon the both of them, looking them in their eyes.

“Kenyin must learn what we do to traitors. I want them to witness what we can do to them. Drive them to their knees, make them weep, make them scream in anguish. Show them they cannot live without us…because we will snuff them out if they try.”

He stood before them, waiting to hear their words before they embarked on their hunt.

Revna Marr | Kaelyr​

 

[Sumire Raiza]

SITH FIELD RECORD // SR-32

SUMIRE RAIZA

EXECUTIONER

LOCATION // Noe’ha’on

OBJECTIVE // MALEFACTION

TAGS // Siv Maloren | OPEN TO OTHERS

“They said it was a k’lor’slug.” The guard’s voice had gone thin. “Night crew says they’ve been bringing livestock down to the breeding rooms. Whole animals. I’ve never been allowed past receiving.”

A metallic crack cut through his next breath. Beyond the window, one corner of the shutter jerked outward. The guard scrambled to his feet, caught his heel against the loader, and nearly fell. Sumire watched a bolt pull loose from the shutter’s lower edge and drop out of sight.

“Another way through,” she said. “Where?”

He pointed across the bay. A narrow personnel door stood behind an abandoned pallet, its yellow floor markings almost hidden beneath the transport cases.

“Preparation. There’s a lift.”

Sumire extinguished her left kama and returned it to her belt hook. “Open it.”

He hurried toward the door, then stopped at a low groan from beneath the severed entrance panel. The other guard had worked one arm free. His fingers dragged against the floor, leaving pale tracks through the dust. For a moment, the standing man looked between him and the preparation door. Sumire reached toward the fallen panel. It shifted with a scrape that made the trapped man cry out, then rose far enough for him to turn onto his side. His colleague caught him beneath the arms and pulled. One leg came clear stiffly; the other folded beneath him when he tried to stand.

“Help him,” Sumire said. She lowered the metal once they were clear, keeping her attention divided between its weight and the window. “Siv, we’re moving.”

The injured guard clung to his colleague’s shoulder as they crossed the bay. Each uneven step drew a sharp breath through his teeth. Sumire followed far enough to see the preparation door’s access panel, then turned sideways, leaving herself room to move toward it while watching the interior entrance.

The shutter beyond the glass had begun to bow. Its lower corner peeled away from the frame, widening the dark gap behind it. She raised her kama, keeping the curved plasma edge clear of her body. Through the window she could hear metal dragging against the corridor floor.

At the preparation door, the standing guard pressed his badge against the reader. An amber light appeared. He pulled before the lock had finished retracting, caught the door against its bolts, and struck it with his palm. “Come on.” He pressed it again, holding it there. His colleague was slipping down his side. He hauled the man upright with an effort that left them both gasping. “Come on, open.”

“Wait,” Sumire said.

He stared at her, breathing through his mouth. Behind her, something gave way with enough force to rattle the observation window in its frame. The lock clicked.

“Now.”

Cold air spilled across the bay as he dragged the door open. Beyond it lay a long preparation room, its steel worktables bolted to the floor on either side of a central aisle. Restraint frames hung from an overhead rail that continued through a broad freight entrance at the far end. Beside it, the service lift’s indicator glowed green. The guard pulled his colleague inside and stumbled against the nearest table. Sumire followed them across the threshold, keeping her kama angled back toward the loading bay. Something had begun to scrape along the passage beyond its interior doors. The sound stopped when the injured man cried out.

She turned toward him. His colleague was trying to settle him onto a wheeled examination table, but his damaged leg had caught against its edge. Sumire took his weight beneath one shoulder and helped lift him clear. His breath came hot and shallow against her cheek.

“Keep him on that,” she told the other guard. “We can move it into the lift.”

He nodded too quickly and hurried toward the call panel. Sumire glanced at the wall plan beside it. Administration occupied the floor above; two research levels lay below. The same shaft served all of them. When the guard pressed the button, the indicator showed the car beginning its ascent from the lowest level. Behind her, the preparation-room door swung slowly toward its frame. She caught it before it closed and looked back into the bay. Through the narrow observation window, she could see a pale smear spreading down the inside of the glass. It gathered at the bottom in coagulated folds, leaving several long strands suspended from the window’s upper edge.

“Through here,” she said to Siv.

Sumire stepped away from the entrance, leaving room beside her. Across the preparation room, the guard leaned over his colleague and whispered something she could not hear. The wounded man shook his head, gripping the edge of the examination table hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

The lift chimed and its doors parted on an empty freight platform. A broad trail of mucus crossed the floor from the rear wall to the threshold, thickest where it had gathered against the door runners. Beneath the lift’s white lights it had a faint yellow cast. Bubbles hung inside it, and the edges thinned into a wet sheen that spread well beyond the thicker central smear.

The mucus continued up the lift’s rear wall, smeared across the metal in broad streaks. A thick strand hung from the ceiling grille. Sumire watched it lengthen until a drop fell into the trail below. The guard stopped with the examination table halfway through the doors. He looked up at the grille, then back toward the preparation-room entrance. His injured colleague caught his sleeve.

“Don’t stop.”

“Left side,” Sumire said, pointing to the strip of dry floor beside the trail. “There’s room.”

He angled the table around the mucus and pulled it fully into the lift. Its frame scraped against the wall. His colleague groaned and tightened his grip, but the guard kept moving until the wheels were clear of the doors. A sharp impact jolted the preparation-room door against its frame. Sumire turned toward it. Across the room, the latch tore free and the door swung inward, exposing twisted metal around the lock. She stepped backward into the lift, keeping her kama between herself and the central aisle.

“Administration,” she told the guard.

He pressed the floor control. Nothing happened. The examination table had rolled back into the doorway, leaving one corner across the threshold. Sumire caught its frame with her free hand and shoved it clear.

Something hooked around the preparation-room door.

She saw a dark point curl against the metal, followed by a jointed forelimb plated in mottled brown chitin. It pulled. The upper hinge twisted away from the wall, and the door struck the nearest worktable hard enough to send a tray of instruments clattering to the floor.

“Siv. Inside.” she hissed.

Sumire stayed beside the lift controls, leaving the entrance clear for him. Beyond the wrecked door, claws struck the floor in quick succession. A narrow head rose into view, then dipped beneath the hanging restraint frames. Something much heavier dragged behind it, still concealed by the wall. Once Siv was clear, she pressed the control to close the doors. The panels slid together. Through the shrinking gap, she caught a glimpse of a hooked limb planting itself on a worktable. The creature’s forequarters lifted, clearing the obstruction with an abruptness that brought her kama higher.

The doors shut before she could see what followed.

For a moment, the lift remained still. The guard held his thumb against the administration button, his other hand clamped around the examination table. Then the platform shuddered and began to rise. A crash sounded below them. The injured man squeezed his eyes shut and his colleague kept watching the doors as the lift carried them upward, waiting for another impact. Sumire eased her weapon down, leaving its blade ignited.

“Which way from the lift?”

“Right.” The guard swallowed. “Through the records office. His rooms are at the end.”

She glanced toward Siv, then back at the floor indicator. It advanced past the preparation level. Beneath their feet, the noise slowly receded into the shaft.

 

[Kaelyr]

✺Tags: Varin Mortifer Revna Marr

✺​

Standing beside Varin, I could only smile with excitement as we overlooked the dense jungles of Kenyin below. A lot had transpired since the last time Varin and I had worked together, but it was always a welcomed sight to be on the battlefield with him. Seeing him in a leadership role filled me with a desire to strive for greatness among the Sith, even now in this time of consolidation. When he spoke, I couldnt help but revel in anticipation.

To defy us was signing one's death warrant, and I would be more than happy to oblige them. "I am honored to join you, friend, on this endeavor." I began, clasping my hands behind my back. "Desperate prey though they may be, fate has given them a cruel hand in having you and me on their heels." I noted. My gaze fell to the woman who was also requested by Varin. I had come across her before, but if Varin had requested her, then it was clear she was capable. Only time would tell just how capable she was.

“Kenyin must learn what we do to traitors. I want them to witness what we can do to them. Drive them to their knees, make them weep, make them scream in anguish. Show them they cannot live without us…because we will snuff them out if they try.”

To that, I smiled as my eyes beamed in delight at the imaginings of what would soon befall such foolish souls. "No better example than putting kindling to the pyre." I encouraged. I was eager to get down there, to prove that Varin's faith in me wasnt misplaced. Checking my gear, I awaited the order to move out.

✺​

---

"Common Speech"
"Ancient Sith"
"Mandalorian Speech"
"✺Yggdrakses Speech✺"
"Internal-Thoughts"

 

[Veyla Tass]

Objective: Pacify Sarrish
Tags: Darth Strosius | Open!

With dull red eyes and fidgety fingers, the young Sangnir - finally, she had a name for what she was - tinkered with some Sarrishan materiel. Somewhere outside this bunker full of corpses, one Darth Strosius did his work. She didn't know what to think of him, just yet. He was like her, apparently. Sangnir. Blood-drinker. Maybe that mattered. The thought could wait for later. For now she had work.

Veyla Tass was, before she was a Sith, a street mongrel. Rigging a bunker to blow was only slightly outside of her remit - she'd performed what could be generously called hobbyist electronics out of necessity since she was a child.

Figuring out how to make something explode intentionally was as refreshing a mental exercise as one could expect in a warzone.

Until a shadow loomed over her, cast from the doorway to her back.

"Monster."

Oh.

That didn't make sense.

There was nothing alive in here except her, not anymore. She sneered. Had she missed one? Or had he abandoned his friends, ducked in here while his comrades outside threw themselves at the Sith war machine?

Maybe he was a coward. Her sneer softened.

The young Sangnir stopped what she was doing, set the tools in her hands down and placed those hands in her pockets.

"You got a family?"

She didn't turn to face the shadow in the doorway. She didn't raise her voice. She sounded bored.

"What?" Shaky, the shadow raised its arms, something long and boxy held tight in its grip.

Veyla bit the inside of her cheek. This was stupid.

"I dunno, man. A sister? A mom? A boy back home?"

Already, her bored affect began to crumble. Irritation crept in, and her muscles tensed in preparation for the inevitable lunge.

Take the hint. Be a coward.

But the shadow didn't.

'Cause every backwater idiot out here thinks he's gonna be the next Luke fuckin' Skywalker-

There was the crack of blaster, and then there was the lunge. The spark in her chest flared, and Anima burned. With dizzying speed, Veyla was on the shadow. One bolt from his blaster grazed the side of her neck, but she had him by his, and she squeezed.

Face to face, he looked no older than her. Soft, round features, hair that needed a wash. A beard that wouldn't grow in right. Kind eyes, even scrunched up with fear and fury.

The hand around his neck tensed. The Sangnir's lip curled up, fangs extended, and the thumb pressed to the young, stupid soldier's carotid pressed just a little harder, a slow and steady increase in pressure until blood, red and rich, trickled down her hand. From there it flowed down her wrist, and then upon the sky blue crystal hanging there from a delicate silver chain.

An inhale. Ragged and feral.

Her grip loosened, and the soldier-boy fell to the ground, dumbly clutching at the gash in his throat.

An exhale, and then she straightened her coat. There was no need to get emotional about these things.

Coldly, she reached up to the collar of her coat, and with bloody fingers tapped her communicator.

"Lord Strosius. Heading back to you. Still no sign of their general."