Darth Abyss
Eldritch
Malachor V - Spheres of Ash - Railroad
Until a few days ago the Free Cities had a weapon on their side that had guarded them from most forces in the galaxy, that of being a unknown variable unseen by his enemies. Now they stood revealed, the veil lifted by the Imperial Remnant that had come to his world and actively refused to accepted his rule over what he had build here. That called for a new weapon, one that would crush anyone who would be foolish enough to try the same thing again. War had knocked, but had not yet come in. Maybe it would returned soon, and this time the Cities would be ready.
An army would never be able to rescue the cities in times of war, but there was also no army that would be able to conquer them. The people of Malachor were strong in their hearts and minds, and they would rather burn down their homes before surrendering to those that came to take their freedom from them. No, what he needed was not an army, but a elite strike force, people that had lived in the cities long enough to know the districts, streets and corners in and out, people that could hold key positions inside the cities when outnumbered a 1000 to 1. And they needed a commander, someone besides Abyss who in case of an attack would have to keep an eye on everything and not just this strike force.
He had neglected the training of his shadow hand [member="Phar'ra"] for a while, the alien warrior discarded as not much more than cannonfodder to the sith lord. But this project would be his hour, a chance to prove his worth once more, so he would one day be allowed to carry the title of sith one day. There was no shortage of volunteers for the strike force, as every gang member of Malachor knew that the Prophet paid well and looked out for his own even more than for his cities. And so 134 men and women, mostly humans and near humans but also a handful twi'leks, droids and other aliens. had gathered in an isolated part of the underground railroad, each of them sorted in one of four line.
Each line represented a position for them. The first line were 62 men that had the right skills to work a infantry, good with a rifle or a handgun, quick and resistant. The second one was reserved for heavy hitters, people that carried rocket launchers, grenades and some more obscure heavy weaponry, 26 in numbers. The third line belonged to melee fighters, 34 to be exact, armed with swords, clubs or their fists. The last line belonged to the last 12, people with less common abilities. Slicers, tech nerds, medics, sharpshooters and rangers, carrying whatever weapon or tool that would suite them the most.
The task was simple. His shadow hand would pick one half of the group, composed of how he saw fit, and they would face of against the rest under the command of Abyss, leading a shadow battle in the long, complex tunnel system below the city. Whoever would make it through the night would become part of Abyss new elite unit.
Until a few days ago the Free Cities had a weapon on their side that had guarded them from most forces in the galaxy, that of being a unknown variable unseen by his enemies. Now they stood revealed, the veil lifted by the Imperial Remnant that had come to his world and actively refused to accepted his rule over what he had build here. That called for a new weapon, one that would crush anyone who would be foolish enough to try the same thing again. War had knocked, but had not yet come in. Maybe it would returned soon, and this time the Cities would be ready.
An army would never be able to rescue the cities in times of war, but there was also no army that would be able to conquer them. The people of Malachor were strong in their hearts and minds, and they would rather burn down their homes before surrendering to those that came to take their freedom from them. No, what he needed was not an army, but a elite strike force, people that had lived in the cities long enough to know the districts, streets and corners in and out, people that could hold key positions inside the cities when outnumbered a 1000 to 1. And they needed a commander, someone besides Abyss who in case of an attack would have to keep an eye on everything and not just this strike force.
He had neglected the training of his shadow hand [member="Phar'ra"] for a while, the alien warrior discarded as not much more than cannonfodder to the sith lord. But this project would be his hour, a chance to prove his worth once more, so he would one day be allowed to carry the title of sith one day. There was no shortage of volunteers for the strike force, as every gang member of Malachor knew that the Prophet paid well and looked out for his own even more than for his cities. And so 134 men and women, mostly humans and near humans but also a handful twi'leks, droids and other aliens. had gathered in an isolated part of the underground railroad, each of them sorted in one of four line.
Each line represented a position for them. The first line were 62 men that had the right skills to work a infantry, good with a rifle or a handgun, quick and resistant. The second one was reserved for heavy hitters, people that carried rocket launchers, grenades and some more obscure heavy weaponry, 26 in numbers. The third line belonged to melee fighters, 34 to be exact, armed with swords, clubs or their fists. The last line belonged to the last 12, people with less common abilities. Slicers, tech nerds, medics, sharpshooters and rangers, carrying whatever weapon or tool that would suite them the most.
The task was simple. His shadow hand would pick one half of the group, composed of how he saw fit, and they would face of against the rest under the command of Abyss, leading a shadow battle in the long, complex tunnel system below the city. Whoever would make it through the night would become part of Abyss new elite unit.