Writing's on the Wall (Ruusan Rebellion: Sith Triumvirate v. Techno Union)

[Gorba the Hutt]

From the blue whorl of hyperspace emerged a strange flotilla, an amalgam of cruisers and frigates drawn from a number of unrelated designs, Tapaani cruisers, Silk combat freighters, Tion frigates. Ruusan lay before them, one of the greatest force nexuses in the galaxy.

Ripe for the taking.

The Techno Union did not deserve this planet. No sense of rule. No sense of ambition. The Sith Triumvirate would see it set to proper use, once it had been wrested from the cold, dead fingers of the technobility.

An immense Herglic clad all in sable looked upon the world from the bridge of his vessel and he smiled. The gleam of avarice shone in eyes of fathomless black.

Any hope the Techno Union garrison might have cherished would soon wither into dust, like the desperate prayers of fishermen caught in an ocean storm - for from the depths of hyperspace behind the flotilla emerged a fleet, a tidal wave to blot out the stars. A One Sith sector fleet… and the last remnants of the Primeval’s world shakers.

“Commence the assault.”


Objectives

• 
  [SIZE=14.666666666666666px]1) The Valley: From ancient days, Ruusan inexorably drew Force Users to the Valley of the Jedi. The only planet in the galaxy to withstand the full might of a Thought Bomb during the last stand of the Brotherhood of Darkness. If one desires power in the Force, the nexus of Ruusan is the alluring font of youth. Small wonder that the Sith Triumvirate gave up their dreams of Bastion’s glory when they trudged through the Valley of the Jedi in search of a hidden treasure. It was then that their first plans for galactic dominance came to fruition. And their base of operations would be the heart of this nexus. [/SIZE]
  

• 
  [SIZE=14.666666666666666px]2) Olmondo: For reasons unknown to people of sound mind and reasonable temperament, the Techno Union allowed mindless cultists to take over the ruined capitol city of Olmondo. From here, a dreadful cult known as the Malevolence have committed unspeakable acts of horror against the locals. Ritual sacrifice, slavery, torture, cannibalism, and apparently narcotics trafficking. The cult presence here has ballooned out of control and now it must be destroyed with extreme prejudice.[/SIZE]
  
  
• 
  [SIZE=14.666666666666666px]3) Fort Nowhere: Once a secure facility on the surface of Ruusan, now no more than a haven for treasure hunters, scavengers and down-on-their-luck mercenaries, Fort Nowhere is a run down installation infested with cretins and low-lives who seek to pilfer the surface of Ruusan for non-existent artifacts and crystals. Many came via the influence of a certain Chiss hacker, hoping to make a fortune. But when the Techno Union’s infrastructure efforts ceased, they found themselves lacking a payday. They are a disparate bunch of “force hunters,” desperate to make a break by finding a treasure trove. Most of them are criminals, with no respect for the law. Fort Nowhere must be rebuilt and the criminals must be driven out, by whatever means necessary.[/SIZE]
  

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px][member="Werah Unon"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Dagorn"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"][/SIZE]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[youtube] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WgKubW5Z0o [/youtube]​

Location: Valley of the Jedi, approaching the Obsidian Compound.
Objective: Breach the structure.
Allies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

The shuttle crashed through the atmosphere and almost immediately the inertial dampers engaged to counteract the sudden forces. It was like sitting in a metal can: they were blind, waiting in the pseudo-dark with their backdrop the hard screeches of anti-air batteries tearing through the drop-pods around them, many times Carach sensed their imminent demise only for their pilot to pull off an insane maneuver or two to avoid the enemy fire.

There was nothing like being transported surface-side to reconnect you with your own mortality.

“Can you feel it?” the Sith asked Xiangu. His eyes were closed, lids pinched together to usher forth the more abstract view. “The closer we come the stronger it is… hmm.”

The Valley of the Jedi was their goal. Its nexus was no longer a beacon of the light, not after the Obsidian Knights took over, no. Not dark either… just that muddled in-between state. Not pure, diluted and unfocused.

“But that doesn’t matter.”

So mesmerized by his increasingly stronger connection to the Force was Carach that the stark divide between mental thought and physical word started to fade.

A moment passed, as did another salvo of sharp, metallic shrapnel, and there they were.

The shuttle crashed into the ground - a few clicks away from the Obsidian Compound. One of the Decantii, always disciplined and ready to march on the call of their masters, how sweet, unstrapped himself immediately and pushed open the door.

The ramp would not extend. Its mechanism probably broken during the flight.

Darth Carach opened his eyes. The sudden light reflected on the eerie amber, and he took a moment to look at his companions, before locking attention with Xiangu.

“Shall we?”

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Breaching the Structure -- Or Something

Catalys remained silent, perhaps even his presence gone unforgotten during the little conversation between [member="Darth Carach"] and [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. Their shuttle shook -- regardless of how great technology was -- in the midst of anti-air fire. The affairs of conquest were not foreign to the once Primeval agent; it was a symphony to the Umbaran's ears, the sound of war raging along the surface below.

The dropship's ramp parted mournfully from the base of the chassis, a bright streak of light assaulting the darkness that lied within. The sheen of his armour glistened like a mirror, his feet pressing into the coarse rubble at his feet. "I'll make my way inside, you two do your thing." As if he had to say -- Catalys' words muffled by the distortion within his voice modulator. Quick steps carried him from the shuttle to cover, avoiding enemy fire. Just beyond where he hunkered down his target awaited. The easy part was landing... The challenge is getting inside unnoticed, or at least without drawing too much attention.

An audible whirring sound wound up as his assault rifle buzzed to life, charging its heavy ammunition in preparation for the assault to come.

 

[Darth Rixas]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Objective: Breach the Compound
Allies: [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Catalys Maijora"]

Connections had been forged long before, with iron and blood and understanding, and yet, even Oron himself was intrigued and perplexed by his current predicament. His still body sat in a safety harness of the transport, gloved hands wrapping tight, slender digits around the safety bars nearest him. His crimson gaze hidden behind his eyelids, he listened to the thunderous echoes of the explosions in the sky as the pilot ensured they avoid becoming one.

Still as a stone upon their approach, he sat. A strangely severe statue, softened only by the mortality of his features. A guise he'd adopted, perfected in a past life- that inordinate ability to be present and yet vacant, void - sectioned off, away from all as if he were in a meditation chamber. Creating an internal distance when there physically remained none. His sword and shield before he had truly wielded either.

He would withhold his reason, but for a time. For the finality he felt as they descended was not fantasized. And within he riled, rebelled at what he was reduced to. Such was the horrific truth of Rule, to reign- one must be constrained to chains. Without another to aid in shouldering the burdens bred of this vocation, a kingdom was but another shackle, and a palace but a more charming prison. To serve as a slave to others seemed a fate he had been born to, and one he was unlikely to escape. But he was as potent as poison to their enemies while the Triumvirate remained powerfully profitable for himself.

Was it wise, this venturing? Most likely not. But then necessity was never commanding of caution. Necessity, near kin to desperation. Both swimming in the same salted pool, and he, slipping one bare foot in, caring not for his afflictions - ripped and torn as he already were, would bare the pain.

Many did not understand him still. Nor did they understand his choices. For all his grooming, all the effort spent to hone his beliefs, credentials worthy of an aspiring sage- he was the same still. Perhaps more so now, swathed in the darkness of the Sith, a smog of odorless toxin he would never fully be rid of- equally unsure of if he truly wanted to be, cold and uncaring as his own heart was.

"Can you feel it?.."

He heard the sentiments drift over the rocking transport as they neared the surface. The question wasn't his to answer but Oron felt an internal relay answer it inaudibly. The source was the presence of an impartial, unremarkable nexus. Otherwise, wasted potential.

THUUMP!

They landed, and Oron unstrapped himself and rose to his feet. Following suit of those in front of him, Oron hopped over the broken ramp and like smoke that spun trails in the sunlight he moved, fluid elegance lining his frame as he pulled a lightsaber into one hand and a heavy blaster pistol into the other.

- 'We'd like to come into your parlor, said the spiders to the flies.'

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Objective: Breach
Allies: [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

For her part, the Atrisian woman was quite placid in the transport that felt as if it might fall from the sky instead of waging a barely controlled battle to the surface at any moment. A flexible half-mask was pulled up over her face to protect the sensitive scar tissue that constituted the lower half of her expression. Concentrating on the feel of her breath ghosting over ruined flesh beneath the mask’s border of sharp cheekbones, she ‘smiled’ slightly at Carach’s murmur. It was more in the eyes now.

“Yes,” she answered soundlessly. Perhaps Carach seemed unhinged speaking to thin air, but if there was anyone who she could communicate with almost without thinking, it was him.

There were others on the transport with them. She registered that somewhere, but her proximity to the nexus forced her to concentrate on pushing emotion and intent in to their own categories. They were interesting presences - that much she could glean simply from being near them, the mind her realm more than ever now that it was all that she had left to communicate with.

Moving to the edge of the ramp and nodding to Carach as he invited her as casually as a picnic, she turned her head to watch one of the strangers leaping out onto unfamiliar ground. The other (graceful, reminded her of...river in a dark wood, silk-smooth eddies cascading past rocks as they were nothing but air) departed close to her and Carach and she mentally tagged him to remember red-eyes and dark intent.

When she 'spoke' again, it was to anyone close enough and capable of hearing her telepathic public address.

“I can feel...a sizable force behind the main blastgate. Panic. Something like a plan to fight off intruders. They're not coming out until we make them.”

She tilted her head to Carach, an odd angle like someone who’d only read about human behavior and never tried it for themselves.

 

[Tyrus Bragus]

Tyrus sat behind an obstacle, using it as cover in the wide valley. He saw the shuttles coming and opened fire.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Fort Nowhere
[member="Haytham Kaze"]

Heavy beskar boots crunched into the surface of Ruusan as a score of Trade Empire marines stepped off the ramps of their assault shuttles and into the ribald soil of a desolate world.

The shocktroopers turned expressionless helmets toward the despondent ruins of Fort Nowhere just ahead. Two shuttles landing so close to the dilapidated strongpoint would not go unnoticed.

Sure enough, a flock of swoops soon sped from the fort’s mouth, clouds of dust kicked up in their wake. while figures clambered up onto the crumbling ramparts. Two began manning an E-web.

The riders quickly reached them, pulling to a stop within 15 meters. A motley crew of unwashed pests to Orcus' eyes. One Togorian leaned forward, arms crossed over the front of his swoop, seemingly at ease.

"Heyo the shuttles. You lot Union?"

Orcus made his way out from the back of a shuttle and onto the ramp. Clad only in the black Koodan armor of his people, the towering cetacean stood a full foot lower than the shock troopers surrounding him, their statures heightened by their power armor. None of these iron covered warriors looked impressed by the show of force from the fort.

"No," rumbled the Sith Lord after surveying the gathered swoops. "The Union will soon be no more. We are the Triumvirate and this fort belongs to us now."

"The hell it does," rasped the Togorian.

The Herglic smiled. "I was hoping you would say that, hauum." He waved a flippant flipper. "Kill them."

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Location: Fort Nowhere
[member="Darth Orcus"]

Haytham trailed off to the side and behind Darth Orcus by a metre or two. Of course he would be letting the Sith Lord take the lead in this Operation. Looking through the helmet that he had decided to wear upon his head, his new, flowing black robes concealed the majority of his body. It appeared to be more rags than anything else in truth, though it was most certainly clean.

Closing his grey eyes, Orcus's Apprentice remained unmoving as the Togorian rider denied his Master. Reaching out into the Force, Haytham felt the tension in the air, the hostility that the riders suddenly felt geared towards those who had disembarked from the shuttles. He may have felt the same from the shocktroopers around him, but he didn't reach out to them, he had assumed their presences within the Force would be as emotionless as was their helmets.

When the kill order came from Orcus, Haytham only moved up towards the crumbling ramparts as the troopers around them raised their weapons and began gunning down the group of riders in quick succession. He didn't to take note of how fast the shocktroopers did their job as his force aided jump brought him onto the rampart, and his grey eyes opened as he unclipped his lightsabre from his belt. The E-web was already pointing in another direction, specifically on the disembarked Triumvirate forces, dashing forwards, he caught the first one with a right hook to the jaw, the Force speeding him up and strengthening his already well muscled body and allowed that man to drop before he spun into the second man, knocking him off balance and pressing the button on the side of his lightsabre.

Snap-Hiss.

Twisting the blade in his hand, he reversed the grip with a well practiced opening and closing of his hand and plunged it backwards into the man behind him, allowing him to drop silently to the ground. Kicking the E-web off of it's stand, it landed on the first man, soundly crushing his skull as Haytham disabled the plasma blade in his hand. Turning to look back towards his Master and those around him, he waited for further commands.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: Olmondo, City Perimeter
Objective: Purge
Allies: [member="Darth Adekos"]

"Pod prepped for departure, begin launch."​

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"Affirmative Alpha 6, subject online."​

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//SYSTEMS ONLINE...RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC//​

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//SUBJECT "ABRAXAS" ONLINE//​

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//THE DEVIL HAS COME//​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YtJxo6KyI8​

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Descended from the blackened abyss beyond the sky came the very definition of irony. Abraxas had worked for the Techno Union a time before when his objective required such a thing to suffice for his vulnerability and lack of knowledge of the galaxy; however, times have changed and the flesh has grown. The time to reap the harvest was now. ​

​

Stabilized within the metallic shell, the Sith was adorned in a strange modified chassis. An older creation of the project itself reforged and made anew to represent the judgement that would strike terror into the very hearts of the cultists that infested the city below. Upon entering the planet's troposphere, the creature came alive in a literal blaze as his armor ignited with flame fueled by his connection to the dark side. Albeit a hologram, the symbolic nature would surely strike others with wonder and apprehension of a most volatile pedigree. A violent shock-wave shook the ground outside the city, possibly alerting something or someone if they were in the area. The goal at hand was to observe from a distance and await the arrival of one [member="Darth Adekos"]. ​

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The pod lay dormant inside of the very soil of Ruusan, aside from the hiss of steam and crackle of burning foliage. Suddenly a loud banging erupted from within the cylindrical prison, the hatch bursting off skyward, landing some distance away. Out climbed the hulking mass of blazing armor, darkened blade held in his right gauntlet. The genetic spawn of the Butcher King gazed upon the city in silent judgement, squaring up such a cancer and the best way to operate on it.​

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Cut it out.​

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Like a beacon to signal the passage of war, Abraxas stood in the distance motionless. Waiting. ​

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The sinners must pay for their debt.​

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Obsidian Compound
Enemies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

Klaxons rang throughout the compound with headache-inducing intensity.

"What gives?" Sal rasped when Megan came stamping back into the room.

"Just got back from HQ. Ruusan's under attack. Union boys say they're pinging One Sith and Primeval capship transponders in space," Megan said as she moved past him to grab her rifle from the table.

Sal grunted. "Thought they were busy with the Reppies."

"Yeah well looks like they decided to hike a few lightyears over here."

Katarn's eyes narrowed and he glanced at the five other members of his unit, they all stood around a table in the armory, gear laid out and ready to go. They could make a fight here, no doubt. Just didn't seem to be the right call. Sal wasn't a fan of going down with the ship when the ship wasn't even his.

"So what, six Alliance Marines against the big bads?"

Rell spoke up, "Nah, not mission parameters."

Megan nodded. "That's right. We're not here to fight the Union's battles, but we're not about to get friendly with some storm troopers, not to mention the Sith. So everyone gear up and be ready to go in five. Sith have already landed, but we're going to make a break for the hangar and see if we can't bust out of this fur ball before it goes up in flames."

Grimacing, Sal picked up his anti-tank rifle with two hands and slung the heavy weapon over a shoulder. Better to have one and not need it, than need one and get blown to ash.

 

[Raziel]

Spoiler: Equipment

Leaviathan Bracers
Quickfire 2 Holdout
Smart Grenade/Mine Launcher
Cryoban Grenades
Ion Grenades
Sonic Grenades
Thermal Grenades
Splinter Pistol
Lightsabers
Nightshrike Modular Stealth Armour
Back: Probe Droid
Wrist 1: Splinter Knives
Wrist 2: Wrist Blaster
Belt: Personal Cloaking Device

Location: Olmondo
[member="Darth Adekos"]

Raziel had been deep into his role on Olmondo. Often he stayed away from the front lines of Spynet’s operations these days, but when one was a reader who could slip into any given role effortlessly there were times when he needed to get involved. There were also times when, without any challenges to keep his mind occupied, he started to get tied up in all the memories, thoughts and feelings he’d absorbed over time. Easier to keep busy than to try and face that mess.

Spynet carried out far more social engineering experiments these days than assassinations. The right propaganda in the right place was far more effective at removing obstacles than any amount of murder. This cult, for instance, were allowed to exist for a particular reason. The supercomputers had confirmed that a lack of self-identity was a problem for support for the any Techno Union wartime activities. Building up a terrible threat within their own cities had been meticulously planned to galvanise them, give them a greater sense of patriotism and also to be thankful when the Techno Union dismantled the threat.

Someone was ruining carefully laid plans. They were also approaching the Valley of the Jedi, which was of far more concern to him. Turning off the main street, he slipped through a side door and was met with an empty storage room at the base of some stairs. As he walked he rattled off an odd sequence of words and the wall slid open. Behind him he heard the screech of several rapid response Hunter Killer Drones, cutting through the air to engage the newcomers.

Two battle droids watched him carefully as he walked into the open plan floor. Maps were projected on the walls as well as several faces and identities. Bothan analysts sat at their terminals typing away.

Raziel passed straight through them all to a secure room holding his equipment. He ordered a transport as he slid into his armound. He made sure he put his gloves on. It was one of the major weaknesses of gloves. If you forgot to put them on they really weren’t very helpful at all.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Location: Fort Nowhere
Allies: [member="Darth Orcus"]

The Trandoshan with his Mentor, Darth Orcus, walked on the ground of Ruusan and saw his troops setting up defenses as they meant to take over the ruins of this fortress. Dagorn, in all honesty, wasn't here for politics, credits, justice, order, law, and the other words and definitions that the Sith Triumvirate preached to unsanctioned worlds of the Galaxy. No, he was here for the kill which would then give him Jagganath Points from the Scorekeeper. He would do any favors and jobs for anyone despite their religion, culture, and ideals as long as he was able to spill blood from his fallen victims. And the Sith Triumvirate seemed a promising place to garner these religious points from his goddess.

Dressed in his armor and armed with an alchemized sword, a small machine gun blaster, a slugthrower rifle, and a heavy weapon the reptilian was more than ready to slay the countless of Techno Unionists within the ruins that stood before him and his associates.

And the first preys of the day came before him and the Herglic. Dagorn's tongue "licked" the air just to smell the odor from the pests. It was a mix of Togorian and some other humanoids that were unknown to his tongue. His hand which clutched the rifle didn't aim and fired...yet. As the Togorian made dialogue with the huge whale in which came to a wonderful conclusion, for the Trandoshan at least. His rifle was raised and aimed it at the Togorian, then fired a single slug. The solid projectile found itself piercing the head of the swooper. A low growl came from the Trandoshan as he was pleased with offering the kill to his goddess.

 

[Saffron]

Oiran Guildhouse
Ruusan

Things were getting a bit... complicated.

High in the peaks of a mountain range, the Oiran Guildhouse temple was tucked away from all roads. Only those who were familiar with the path and the location were able to land there.

A single lithe blonde would stand upon the balcony of the temple's gardens. Off in the distance, dark plumes would rise with an ominous note. Beside the young woman, was a small table. It was decorated with a luxurious cloth, set with a silver teaservice.

There, splayed in secession, were three distinct sabacc cards. In her hand, Saffron held one.

Pale hazel eyes would fall upon that card, drawing it up for her review anew. The Wheel.

"Luck, both good and bad," she would murmur softly, staring out into the distance.

"The beginning and the ending of things..."

 

[Sinistra]

Location: Sitting in a cloaked ship within jump range
Allies: [member="Raziel"]


She happened to be in the neighborhood when the reports came in. OS fleet. Primeval warships. On the doorstep of the TU and in her backyard. She was not pleased to see activity in this sector but as her alter ego, she was not without reason to want to make sure the TU kept a solid border. Stability was at a premium these days and there was power to be had in the crumbling of empires.

Ever since they had a clandestine meeting with a handful of intelligence and military officials from the TU, she and the IIB of the Imperium had kept notes on the ones they met there. Including a certain agent whom she ran into again on Dressel. All she had was the cover name but she was sure it would be good enough to get to him.

Either he would know there was a party on his doorstep or he would be informed. Either he would accept her offer of help or he would decline.

The message was routed off and she waited for an official response while she took it upon herself to make the jump in and find where she could be most helpful. Meanwhile, she sent another message to [member="Joran Greth"] to inform him she would be tied up on Ruusan for a bit.

 

[Raziel]

[member="Sinistra"]

The response that came was simply. It was a set of coordinates outside of the Valley. The Obsidian Order might be able to hold for a while and Raziel had no intention of going rushing into the battle without some information. Two of his best Spynet exfiltration squads were called to the meeting spot as well. They'd served him many times, each clad in the Nightshrilke armour and armed with a variety of weapons to best engage Jedi.

Because if the Valley was under attack, there would be Jedi. Or Sith. Likely this attack could be turned if they headed off the assault there. Raziel slid his poisoned splinter knives into their sheaths with great care and then he loaded a single cryoban smart mine into his launcher.

 

[Sinistra]

Location: The Valley
Allies: [member="Raziel"] & The Imperium
Opposition: We shall see...

She had to take the long way in, around the backside of the planet, plunging through the atmosphere to dust the treetops so she could come in below the radar threshold. She found a spot to land easily near where it looked a couple other ships were dropping squads in order to mount a counter. She was armored and masked but she turned off the vocoder, her voice merely amplified to make her speech heard.

She tramped down the ramp of her courier ship, armed with sabers and ready for a fight, although this was the first time she had been to Ruusan. The atmosphere above the Valley thrummed with harrowing caress, the very pull of it singing a siren call to bring herself down into the darkling embrace. There was a time to give into that call, to respond in kind to its soothing seduction, but now was not it.

Sinistra walked to the front of the troops, and gave a slight bow.

"Director Corsai sends her regards."

Messages were sent, soldiers were scrambled, ships launched. From her little note to Joran, the Imperium shook itself from slumber to turn its eyes to a new challenge.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Fort Nowhere
Allies: [member="Dagorn"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"]

A grin of satisfaction peeled across Orcus' face as he bore witness to the handiwork of his apprentices. No sooner did the Togorian slump from the saddle, skull an imploded mess, then the Herglic shock troopers began to open fire with their SCR-3 sonic hand cannons. The enormous, unwieldy weapons spat out green globes of contained sonic energy. The globes seemed to almost float through the air before hitting swoop bikes or humanoid and bursting apart with concussive force. Swoops and men alike exploded.

The E-web, now offline, posed no threat to them now, but undoubtedly these miscreants held other surprises for them within the fort itself.

Orcus stalked through the smoldering wreckage of the swoop gang, wide lips curling with disgust. Such an uncivilized way to deal with an enemy, but ultimately so thoroughly enjoyable. A pleasure derived from baser instincts, no doubt. Still, a pleasure all the same.

The Sith Lord gestured to his Trandoshan apprentice. "This is a hive of scum, not fit for our designs. Go and slay. Spare none. There are many points to earn this day."

A blaster bolt zipped down from Nowhere and smacked a shock trooper in the chest, scorching the beskar plate. Orcus frowned, gaze tracking upward. Only one tower remained standing in the fort. A perfect spot for a sniper.

Looking to the ramparts he spotted his other acolyte. Through the comm headset he wore, he said, "Vanitas, there is a sniper in the tower. Possibly more. Take them out without structural damage. We want the fort intact."

Or what was left of it, anyway.

The shock troopers converged on the derelict fort, advancing at a steady, orderly pace.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Location: Valley of the Jedi, approaching the Obsidian Compound.
Objective: Breach the structure.
Allies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"] | [member="Oron Verd"]
Variable: [member="Sinistra"] | [member="Raziel"] | [member="Sal Katarn"]

Carach breathed in.

There was a change in the wind. A subtle shift that ushered forth a change in the predetermined variables. Too much interference from the Nexus to know for sure what that change was though, but that distinct feeling of giddiness welled up inside of him.

Whatever the change was, whatever fate had decided to throw at them today, it would prove to be interesting, at the least.

His own head cocked slightly. Listening to her words with one metaphorical ear, while the other senses were already casting further: they met the same scene painted by Xiangu.

Dozens of men behind those walls. They were like little candles, surrounded by the bonfires: the Obsidian Knights had grown in power over the years, blushing recruits turned into killing machines in the name of the Union. In the name of the holy credit. There was panic there, yes, and determination. Cold, calculation and steady steadfast. Creeping fear and bloody thirst. As many feelings as there were bodies in that compound.

And that was the meat of the entire thing. In war and on the battlefield the warriors were a herd, a group mentality that could be influenced in any side, but before?

In those silent little moments, before the blood and steel reached them?

They were glorious individuals.

With their own hopes and dreams and fears and nightmares.

“Mmmhmmm.” Carach thought, almost pondered, the various options laid out before them.

“Then perhaps we should make them fear the inside more than the outside, yes?”

The Sith Lord breathed out, before a warm, warm smile spread across his features. Too warm. Too friendly. Too relaxed while artillery was raining molten shrapnel around them and people of both sides were dying by the score. But it had been too long since they had done this.

Understandable, of course. Both had their own responsibilities and games.

Power started to build up within him. Carach trusted Catalys and Verd to make their own little strategies, but at the end of the day… this game of minds was the one he knew best.

That same power reached out towards Xiangu. Beckoning, inviting to band together for a display of disproportion.

 

[Gulliver Foyle]

Objective: Ft Nowhere
Allies: [member="Raziel"] and the Imperium
Enemies: To Be Determined

To say it had taken some convincing to get Gulliver to agree to take the reigns of the Imperium's 2nd Legion once more would be a masterclass in the art of understatement.

The wily old human mercenary had little stomach for the dirty political infighting that infested the upper echelons of just about every major government controlled military force throughout history. As a mercenary, he had of course dealt with the political machinations of would-be generalissimos on several occasions, but he had always been able to steer clear of anything truly heinous due to the wonder that was the mercenary contract.

There was no single unified bonding authority that governed mercenary contracts in the galaxy. There were several prominent ones of various degrees of trustworthiness, but the central theme was always the same: the prospective employer would put out the call and transfer the funds for the contract to a bonding authority, who would hold them in escrow. The mercenary or company who took the contract would be able to draw on those funds as much as specified in the contract for operating costs, but the full sum wouldn't be released to them until the bonding authority, not the often finicky employer, decided the terms had been fulfilled. If the bonding authority decided that the contract had been violated, the offending party would be heavily fined and the wronged party would be refunded the balance held in escrow.

The contracts themselves were often heavily tilted in the mercenary's favor. The terms had to be fair enough to mollify both parties, but there was almost always an escape clause that let the mercenary walk away if it looked like they were going to get screwed. Many a perspective employer had woken up one morning to find their forces dramatically reduced after their hired guns had decided they didn't like the length of the stick they were being presented with. Someone had to take the short end, and it wasn't going to be them.

When the political infighting in the Imperium had made things decidedly more hostile than Gulliver had liked, he had used that escape clause and had left the Imperium's service. Imagine his surprise when Director Corsai herself commed him to ask that he take the helm of the Second Legion once more.

It had been a hard sell. Mere credits weren't enough; Gulliver had wanted assurances that he'd be able to do things his way, without having to worry about career politicians and flag grade officers trying to get in his way. He had neither the time nor the inclination to put up with their antics, and so far, Director Corsai's promise to keep them out of his way had worked.

So now 1st, 2nd and Third Battalions of the 2nd Legion were making their landing on Ruusan, along with Alpha Company, 4th Battalion.

1st and 2nd Battalions were both infantry. Each battalion consisted of five companies of 160 troops each, plus a command second of 40. That meant they both had 800 fighting men and women, plus 40 support staff. Each battalion had 4 companies of infantry, while the fifth was designated heavy weapons. The heavy weapons platoons were in charge of crew served weapons such as E-webs, as well as 160mm mortars. They would be divided up evenly among the other companies. The companies were designated Alpha through Echo. So Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion would be designated A-2, while Charlie Company, 1st Battalion would be C-1.

Third Battalion consisted of four artillery batteries, designated Alpha through Delta. Each battery had 80 troops and 8 155mm howitzers between them. The howitzers were simple affairs, each with a range of 20 kilometers and capable of firing three shells per minute. They were hard on the troops, as they had to be loaded by hand, but Gulliver didn't want to bring the massive and massively vulnerable missile assault tanks to bear on a fight that. The howitzers were simple, reliable, and could be easily transported. The assault tanks were none of those. In addition to the firing batteries, there was a Fire Direction and Control, or FDC, section for the battalion that consisted of another 30 troops, bringing the total to 350.

Alpha Company, 4th BN consisted entirely of sappers. The 160 man company was divided evenly among the infantry companies, in order to give them engineering support.

Gulliver hoped it wouldn't be a long campaign. Intel suggested that the enemies of the TU were coming out in force, but it was rare for such groups to stick around long if it looked like they weren't gaining any traction. Ruusan had historical value for Force users, but he highly doubted that would make it worth their while when there were easier nuts to crack.

At the moment, his forces were encamped some 15 kilometers from Ft. Nowhere. The dinky little fortification was hardly worth the effort, but for some reason, it was considered a valuable target.

The infantry would set out on foot towards the fortress momentarily, with artillery supporting them. When they got within three klicks, the mortar teams would set up shop, and the infantry would close in under the cover of indirect fire. The march was a fairly long one, though not really by infantry standards. Though Gulliver would have liked to have access to the sort of fast assault speeders he preferred when deploying large numbers of troops, Ruusan hadn't been rated a high enough priority to secure them. Despite the Director's assurances, he suspected that there was still a contingent in the high command that would gladly leave him swinging in the breeze if they could manage, and denying the request for speeders was undoubtedly a calculated move on their part.

Oh well. Infantry walked. It's just what they did.

 

[Joran Greth]

Allies: @Raziel @Sinistra The Imperium
Enemies: SIthy peeps
Objective: Havoc and down right mayhem. No really were just here for the lols
1

The flash of light and shudder of the deck below his feet broke Jorens attention from the reports he had been reading. "Sir we have arrived" came the voice of captain Morril from somewhere to Jorens left. He turned to see the man and nodded. The system before them was under siege by sith forces. Director Corsai's message had been brief and only conveyed she was there and would be fighting sith. Joren needed no more information. His counterpart in the Imperium was there and fighting. That was all he needed to know.

"Contacts bearing one five four by sevety nine. They are shifted thirty degrees off our current axis. Range four hundred thousand kilometers." said a man sitting at the tactical console. Greth shook his mind free from the chore of reports and running the Imperium to concentrate on the battle at hand. "Very well, captain, match the enemies angle and move us in slowly. " Greth said. He looked over the information now scrolling down the screen. The ships of the Imperium fleet sat still and silent in the darkness poised to pounce on the waiting sith forces in the system. Joren walked tot he com station and pressed in the command to open a channel to the assault force readied in the hanger for insertion. "Colonel Tagge, you have a green light. Happy hunting" said Greth to the assault force commander. Soon the battle would be locked and the Sith will come to fear The Imperium.

Fleet

Spoiler

4995 meters
1 Victory X-class @ 900 meters
4 Ardent X-class @ 400 meters
4 Kantos-class @ 300 meters
4 Vigil Mk IV-class @ 255 meters
5 Intersector War Sloop @ 55 meters