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Opening Pantora's Box | TSE Invasion of Pantora

- - - - - TSE ORC Pantora

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Darth Carnifex

Darth Carnifex

    Immortal Sith Emperor

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Anger and resentment spread like wildfire once the full scope of the heist on Rhen Var became known to the Empire’s aristocratic elite, the theft of so many accumulated artifacts hitting too close to home for those who remembered Emperor Ardik’s failure. Demand was made to retaliate against these thieves, and Emperor Carnifex was more than willing to oblige. Astral calculations and triangulation eventually produced a bevy of coordinates of possible locations for the thieves and their Jedi watch dogs. That list was then whittled down to a handful of locations, with one in particular being singled out above all others.
With a tangible goal in mind, the Emperor summoned his legions and assembled a mighty host to usher in retribution. Though it was a slim possibility that the exact same thieves would reside upon Pantora, the Empire could still squeeze the world for all of its worth before they were done. 
So with warships armed and the holds of slave barges empty, the Empire set forth to kill and burn.
Fire crackled and smoldered in the darkness of the chamber, burning just bright enough to illuminate portions of the twenty by twenty meter room. Four braziers hung from the ceiling by heavy iron chains, bronze basins pounded into gargantuan Rancor skulls ornamented with gold. These were the only light source, for no grandiose viewport dominated any of the four walls. If they had, the churning madness of hyperspace would seethe just beyond its boundaries. Heavy acrid smoke billowed out as the incense burned in these great censers, filling the room with the putrid stench of death. In the crux between these macabre thuribles was a single man, naked and kneeling in devout contemplation. Though impossible to tell in the shadows of the chamber, he was a giant of a man; his muscular body mutilated with scars from battles too numerous to recollect. Many who had inflicted these healed wounds had died by his hands, those that yet lived would soon find themselves in his grasp.
From the darkness emerged four creatures, their sexless bodies concealed by shimmering cloth-of-gold robes that left only the bottoms of their face revealed. Crowning their heads was a skull-cap of ruby-studded gold which encompassed the entirety of their craniums and the top half of their face, which had been fashioned to resemble an immaculate face with aquiline features. In their emaciated hands were pots of gently sloshing liquid, which they placed on the floor next to the kneeling giant as they themselves mimicked his posture and bowing so low that their golden faces kissed the floor. Unbidden, they rose and dipped their fingers into the liquid which clung to their fingers most fervently and began to spread it along the giant’s naked flesh. For hours they did this, never ceasing in their obsession to see every inch of the giant’s skin glistening with sacred oil. When at last their pots sat empty, they produced a knotted satchel and slowly unfastened the twine. Reaching into the bag they produced a mound of white powder, which they also began to coat the giant’s body with as well. The powder stuck to the oil which coated him, creating a ghostly pale sheen that soon encompassed his entire body.
Once these two rituals had been completed, the four creatures retreated into the darkness with their pots and their bags of powder. The giant rose, his bones creaking in protest at being disturbed from their prolonged rest. He walked with purposeful steps towards the wall directly facing him, two panels parting into the wall’s partition to allow him access; closing behind him once he has passed the threshold. This new chamber was more brightly lit, artificial strips of light beating down oppressively from above. In this light the giant was even more impressive, the enormity of his size fully presented without shame. More creatures awaited him, these ones clad in robes of sapphire samite and wearing masks of deep silver studded with amethysts. In lieu of pots and bags they held ornate scarlet pillows with golden tassels, upon which sat individual pieces of armor. The first pair of creatures approached and began to dress the giant, pulling on a skin-tight black body glove over his powdered muscles, upon which pieces of the giant’s black and red armor was affixed and tightened. Greaves were brought and placed around his lower legs and sealed, vambraces were done the same around his forearms. Gauntlets were pulled up tight over the hands, one pulsating with dark malefic energies. An armorweave hauberk was pulled down over his torso, his upper chest covered by black Impervium. Likewise his shoulders were protected by segmented plates of Impervium. A cloak of maroon armorweave was then magnetically clamped at the back of each shoulder pad, the emblem of the Empire proudly emblazoned across its rippling fabric.
All that remained was an austere helmet, bereft of over complicated ornamentation in favor of battle practicality. The giant held this last component in the crux of his left arm while his right hand grasped the hilt of a massive lightsaber, far greater than one of average stature could possibly hope to possess. 
Another partition opened up before him, leading to a wide hall large enough to drive two heavy repulsortanks side-by-side with some room left on either side. The giant strode with head held high, the unrivaled master of this domain of dark durasteel and recycled air. Everywhere he journied he was assailed by re-confirmations of loyalty in the form of crisp salutes and demonstrations of submission by those beneath him, the mounting reverence leaving little impression on his mind. He suffered such prostrations nearly every day, the subjects of his vast interstellar Empire more than willing to prove their devotion at any given moment in his presence. To another man it might have proved grating, and to another it might stroke the flames of ego. But the giant barely noticed it.
Such trivialities were beneath the notice of the Emperor of the Sith. 
The Emperor emerged onto a massive bridge, multiple walkways overlooking recessed data pits filled with machinery and the technicians to operate them. A massive throne had been erected on the side closest to him, raised up three levels above the walkway floor to give whoever sat in it an unparalleled view of the bridge. Beyond that was a viewport that took up the entirety of the far wall, the cerulean swirl of hyperspace churning just outside. As befitting his position, the Emperor took his seat upon the throne and gazed down at his subjects as they worked. Only the dreadnought's secondary captain moved to stand at his side, on the lowest rung of the raised dais. 
Supreme Excellency, we’re nearing the Pantora System. We’ll be there within the hour.” Captain Godfris was a short man, not yet reaching the average height threshold for his species, and woefully dwarfed by the gargantuan size of the Emperor. “Very good,” the Emperor’s voice was a deep baritone rumble, like the breaking of stone. “Summon the Admirals.” Godfris bowed and barked an order to a subordinate, who tapped several keys on a nearby console which in turn dispatched a flurry of encoded data to four of the other warships in transit. In front of the Emperor’s throne they materialized, awash in a haze of holographic light. To the far left of the Emperor was Admiral Thintith Karr, commander of the 42nd Invasion Force. A rarity even among the alien-laden ranks of the Sith Empire, the Ishi Tib’s eyestalks pivoted as she surveyed not only her surroundings, but the figures that had joined her in heeding the call of the Emperor. Next to her was Admiral Orok, commander of the 43rd Invasion Force. His was a more common occurrence, one of the many Mirialan who had pledged themselves to the Empire following the Battle of Mirial. The Empire had salvaged much of his barren homeworld in spite of the Jedi’s atrocities, and had pledged to the Emperor a life debt. To Orok’s left was Admiral Niclan Clarmerc of the 367th Escort Force, the scion of the wealthy and highly influential Clarmerc dynasty which had ruled considerable portions of Jelucan since before the Darkness. Clarmerc wore the fineries of his people’s heritage in tandem with the prim and crisp uniform of his station. The last of the Emperor’s Tetrarchy was Admiral Jaidar Calson, another of the Empire’s military aristocracy. His father was the late Grand Admiral Theos Calson, who had served the Empire during the reign of Emperor Moridin. Much like his father, Admiral Calson had been outspoken at the inclusion of non-Human species into the Imperial Military. His tune had shifted when the Emperor had selected him to serve in his War Fleet. 
Yet despite their differences, all of them had heeded the Emperor’s call with the same urgency. They knelt before him, falling to one knee while their hands cradled their other, heads bowed in deference. “Arise, my Tetrarchy.” When they had done as he had bidden the Emperor continued, “Soon we shall be set loose upon the moon of Pantora, the last location calculated on the trajectory of those who had stolen from the Empire at Rhen Var. Make no mistake, my Admirals, we have come not to conquer, but to burn. When we are at last finished, all that shall remain of Pantora will be charred cities and fields of bone and ash. You know your roles. Prepare your Forces for hyperspace terminus and destroy any who oppose us.
They crossed their right arm over their chest, their hand making a fist right over their hearts. “It will be as you command, our Master of Masters. Bone and ash shall be their reward for treachery. We, the Tetrarchy assembled by your will, shall co-sign this death warrant of Pantora.” Each spoke as one, undivisible in their strength and conviction, the words coming easily to them as breathing. There was no hesitation or doubt in their voices, no reservations for what each of them knew what soon to come. They had either made their peace with it or eagerly awaited it, but they would not shirk from their duties. 
One by one their images blinked out of existence, the brief meeting between master and servants adjourned. When at last the Emperor’s War Fleet exited hyperspace between the moon of Pantora and the barren lifeless world of Orto Plutonia, those on the moon below would witness the arrival of the Emperor’s dreaded flagship; the Behemoth II. Six Marr-class Star Destroyers exited hyperspace in an octagonal defensive formation around the dreadnought, while ten smaller Velox-class Frigates filled in the gaps. But that was only the tip of the iceberg, for a total of five-hundred-and-sixty-seven warships of varying size and strength materialized all around them, unequally divided into the four Forces led by the Emperor’s Tetrarchy. Admirals Clarmerc and Calson had arranged their Escort Forces in the forward left and right quadrants, while Admirals Karr and Orok positioned theres in the rear left and right quadrants. The Emperor’s flagship and its destroyer escort dominated the center of the formation, the literal head of the beast. 
And with one sentence it began, “Commence attack.


Edited by Darth Carnifex, 19 June 2019 - 10:37 AM.

Coren Starchaser

Coren Starchaser

    The Spark

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Objective: Deploy to the Surface

Location: Mon Calamari Cruiser Anchor and Hope

Tags: Darth Carnifex Yula Perl and not Joza

The New Alliance had been doing a lot of work as of late. Working on bringing in more of the legionnaires from other aspects of the Coalition to strike out at the enemies, while the majority of the fleet was getting their work done helping to secure the lanes and the western front. What was to be done with Sullust and all, following the collapse of the First Order. It was probably better that Mazik Stazi was out there helping out. Coren was running his own front, and relying heavily on Twilight Company and their related units. Between Twilight and his personal squadron/company of the Tiburons. Following the strike on Rhen Var, though, his battlegroup needed some leave and a few cushy postings. The world of Vero had a few of them taking some odd jobs, and most of his battle group were switching postings around. More of the Coalition had made their way out to Pantora, for the celebration of the moon’s world joining the Coalition.

It felt like a really simple job, them joining, but who was Coren to argue with the realm of politics? He wasn’t someone who could. But he was still in orbit around the world, watching the fleet movements from the bridge. Not that he was on watch at the moment, but this was Starchaser. He was a soldier and a Jedi. He didn’t leave his people hanging if he could help it, and if there were chances he was going to need to be the ranking officer somewhere, he was active. But the ship here wasn’t even his, just one of the many that were posted, and it did house the Tiburons and his new ship, the Mako, based off of the Shortfin design.

So much so a quick blastboat, the way Starchaser had it laid out. Pacing the bridge, not quite sure what the feeling was, but then it all came clear. The Force. Danger Sense. He was tired, wasn’t he?

But the Behemoth was out there now. And without thinking, he was in the hangar, right near the Mako. “Porter, warm her up.” The pilots in the hangar were taken a bit by surprise as Coren had folded himself into their midst before the klaxons had gone off. Shouting into his commlink. “Tiburons, full alert. Launch immediately.” He knew half the squad was asleep, but he was waking them up. “Alerts, get to the planet. Going to need you down there.” He was walking through the shuttle. It carried a fighter, but that also provided an airlock for some more dangerous and downright risky moves.

He hoped whoever was deployed with the Tiburons would take the order and deploy to the planet. He was heading there, but it meant he was going to take out a few of their landing shuttles. The ship was warmed and ready when he arrived in the cockpit, pushing the throttle up, he launched following the pair of X-Wings.

Looking to his side, he knew he felt something in the Force. There was someone else on his ship, but how? He was down in the hangar before anyone really noticed that there was now an invasionary fleet. Helped being on the bridge, helped even more being able to teleport. Or fold space. You know, whatever.


Son of a fething Zeltron. Why was there one of them with him. “Yula, get up here. Now.” He called across the ship intercom. Porter was moving around behind him, working on the systems, and the co-pilot chair was free and empty. Whatever, he could use a co-pilot. He’d deal with Joza later.

But when she got to the cockpit, there was cussing in at least three languages.




Darth Prazutis

Darth Prazutis

    Immortal Shadow Hand

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In the twenty by twenty meter room a living darkness shuddered and heaved like a massive wet lung. It was a living presence so foul, so profane it eclipsed the light and devoured the darkness. It wasn’t just a simple darkness rather it was the absence of it, a pure void empty. It was a strange hypnotic experience to be within such a chamber that seemed to be completely deprived of any noise. Deep inside it was so quiet one could hear the blood pumping through their skin, the thump of their heart beat. Quite suddenly portions of the void blackness were illuminated in a baleful crimson light, an otherworldly energy burning like fire in four braziers that hung from darksteel chains, bronze basins pounded into massive Maenan Dragon skulls ornamented with gold. The crimson energy was the only baleful light to illuminate portions of the dark chamber. Even the flames struggled to hold back the void that encroached around them, the hushed and twisted whispers of beings from the great beyond. A heavy acrid smoke  billowed out into the room as incense burned from within great censer filling the room with the putrid stench of death, the smell of war.In the crux between these macabre thuribles was a single man, naked and kneeling in devout contemplation in a great basin set into the floor, virtually submerged in the waters. What became painfully clear was that it wasn’t water he was submerged in, it was blood. It was a thick, viscous blood of fallen victims filling the putrid stench with its copper twang, the blood was superheated to such a degree that it would’ve burned the skin off any other lesser man. Though impossible to tell in the shadows of the chamber and the basin, he was a titanof a man; his muscular body mutilated with scars from battles over many centuries of pure conflict. Many who inflicted the scars died by this very mans hands, every scar severe and each one was enough to swiftly end a lesser mans mortal life. The Man of a Thousand Cuts, the Undying they called him.


The pools sanguine liquid suddenly turned to a thick churning otherwordly black tar so horrifying it brought insanity just from being in close proximity to it surged around him like a vortex, where it suddenly drained inside the man. As the liquid faded four figures emerged, materializing from the dark, their sexless bodies were covered by shimmering robes of white gold, only the bottoms of their faces were revealed. The figures skin was so pale it turned a shade of white, as if these beings had never known the light, as if it didn’t exist in their world. Crowning their heads was a skull-cap of ruby-studded ebony which encompassed the entirety of their craniums and the top half of their face, which had been fashioned to resemble a skull. In their emaciated hands were pots of gently sloshing liquid, which they placed on the floor next to the great titan and they themselves mimicked his posture.  The figures rose and dipped their fingers into the liquid which clung to their fingers most fervently and began to spread it along the giant’s bare flesh. For hours and hours they did this, never ceasing in their obsession to see every inch of the giant’s skin glistening with the most sacred oil, silently muttering sacrament and religious incantations. When at last each pot sat empty they opened a satchel at their sides, producing a white powder. It was an unusual creation mixed with the ash of the greatest fallen enemies to die by the hand of the Lord of Lies which they also began to coat the titan’s body with as well. The powder stuck to the oil which coated him, creating a ghastly sheen of pale alabaster that soon covered his entire body.


Once these two rituals had been completed, the four creatures retreated into the darkness with both pot and satchels. It was at long last the colossal figure rose, the bones cracking in protest at being disturbed after such a prolonged period of rest. The figure walked with a purposeful, calculating step towards the wall directly facing him, two panels parted to allow him access through only to snap shut behind him. This new chamber was a direct contrast to the other, it was brightly lit with artificial strips of light burning away the shimmering dark. In the exposure of the light the titan colossal, the enormity of his size fully presented to all without shame or care, the perfect specimen. More figures waited in this chamber these figures were clad in deep crimson robes covering a set of demonic  plate that wrapped them like a second skin of dark iron. The figures pauldrons were spiked and from within their crimson hoods a mask of black iron with eyes in the shape of narrow slits, a blinding white light was where their eyes were supposed to be.Each figure held a scarlet pillow covered in ornate designs of distant wars with gold tassels upon whichupon which sat individual pieces of armor.


The first pair of creatures approached and began to dress the giant, putting on a skin-tight black body glove over his powdered muscles, upon which the giants black and red armor was placed and tightened. One by one greaves were placed around his lower legs and sealed, vambraces were done the same with his forearms. Gauntlets were pulled over the hands, both pulsating with profane energies. An armorweave hauberk came down  over his torso like a curtain from the ceiling, his upper chest covered by black Impervium. Likewise his shoulders were protected by segmented plates of Impervium. A cloak of maroon armorweave was then magnetically clamped at the back of each shoulder pad, the emblem of the Empire proudly emblazoned across its fabric. The belt on the front proudly displayed the blazing Eye of Solomon, sigil of the legendary House Zambrano. All that remained was a single helm, bereft of ornamentation that could possibly limit its battle practicality. The figure held the helm under his left arm, while his right hand grabbed the hilt of a massive greatsword, a shimmering runeblade far greater than anyone of average stature could possibly hope to possess. It was the giants chosen blade created by another, extensively modified by his careful touch to something greater. It bore many names over the years spoken only in hushed whispers of the blades malefic sentience. The Blade of Hunger, Breaker of Dynasties, Bane of Kings, End of Empires, the Great Blade of Death. The runeblade was strapped to his side..


Another partition opened before him leading to a massive hallways large enough for two repulsortanks to fit side by side, with room left over on either end. A wall of crimson guards surrounded him as the figure strode with his head held high, for he was the master of this twisted domain of dark durasteel, a great old one with dominion over the great beyond itself. Everywhere he went on all sides men and women assaulted him with confirmations of their loyalty through salutes, or displays of submission. As if they had to prove at any given moment their loyalty to him. Every day he suffered such prostrations, the subjects of the vast Sith Empire were willing to prove their devotion at any given moment, to the Shade of Death.


Woe to all if their loyalty was questioned by him. Some might’ve found such gesture grating, while others might’ve found their egos stroked by it. But the Dark Titan barely noticed it, they were so far beneath his notice they barely existed in his world. These trivialities were beneath the notice of the Shadow Hand of the Sith Emperor, Supreme Commander of Sith-Imperial Forces. The figure emerged onto a massive bridge, multiple walkways overlooking recessed data pits filled with machinery, and the diligent crew of the Goliath. A massive throne was erected on the side closest to him, raised up three levels above the walkway floor to give him an unparalleled view of the bridge. The far wall was dominated with a viewport that showed the cerulean swirl of hyperspace churning just outside. As befitting his role none were above the Shadow Hand except for one, and he stood head and shoulders above all, he sat upon the throne and watched the crew work. Only the shimmering holographic projection of a great crimson eye manifested in a projection off one of the arms of the massive throne, a visual representation of AQUILA, the AI and Captain of the Goliath. “Your Excellency, we’re nearing the Pantora System. We’ll be there in approximately one hour, two minutes and thirteen seconds.” The AI said its voice was a deep thrum like some mechanical demon, it assaulted the ear drums.


Is everything ready?” the Shadow Hands voice was a deep baritone rumble, containing an otherworldly hypnotic lull to it. “Yes your Excellency the Tetrarchy have confirmed the battle plans, as well as your orders for the coming battle and prepare to meet with the Emperor shortly, Supreme Admiral Croscal is on site for conflict coordination in the war room alongside Lord Admiral Krell.” AQUILA replied instantaneously. Whether the Shadow Hand was pleased or not one couldn’t tell by his utter lack of a reaction “Very well. Feed me the advance reports and latest intel briefings.” AQUILA’s image shimmered and a holographic display was projected in front of him of Pantora’s surface, a region a distance outside of the capital city held over a dozen dots highlighted in red. “The Outer Rim Coalition has spread its forces in pockets throughout the planet. The greatest concentration is a series of prefabricated structures spaced apart over a series of roughly thirty eight miles.” Immediately the Shadow Hand hand raised a hand for AQUILA to pause “Set targeting coordinates I want the Decimation Superlaser primed and ready to fire the moment we exit hyperspace. Glass it all. Inform Death Squadron I will be taking Galvanoth to the surface, in the first wave. Inform Highlord Osbasid to prepare his men, the legion shall accompany me on the surface.


As you wish. We are ready to fire at your command.” The AI eerily responded, AQUILA’s great eye vanishing. As if on cue the War Fleet exited hyperspace between the moon of Pantora and the barren, lifeless world of Orto Plutonia. Those on the moon below would witness the arrival of the Shadow Hand’s dreaded flagship; the Goliath  II alongside the Behemoth II. Six Marr-class Star Destroyers exited hyperspace in an octagonal defensive formation around the dreadnought, and ten smaller Velox-class Frigates filled in the gaps. But that was only the tip of the spear, over five hundred warships emerged all around them in a coordinated formation. A single word, a single spoken syllable unleashed death. “Fire.


The prow of the Goliath II glowed as the Isotope-5 Generators pushed a massive surge of energy through a series of siaber crystal focusing crystals, creating a focused beam of devastating fury that exploded from the ship blazing to the planet below. Those on the surface would see a blinding green beam, its size so monstrous it eclipsed over forty miles in width. It came down like the wrath of the heavens, the hammer of a dark god that collided with the moon's surface. A full region on the outskirts of the city was consumed by it, the sheer force of it was enough to shift tectonic plates causing tremors for miles, the pure impact of it shattered glass in the city many miles away, earth buckled and its power was such that its impact registered on ricter scales across the moon itself. A full region was bathed in superheated plasma where within all life died, the fury of its blast so great nothing stood before it, and all that remained was a shattered hellscape, a surface of glass.


It was but a drop in the bucket of the sheer destruction that was to come.    


Edited by Darth Prazutis, 19 June 2019 - 10:14 AM.



    Lord of Agamar

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Location: In Orbit over Pantora

Objective: Preparing to blockade the planet, and commence the ground invasion.


While the Sith's vast armada made it's arrival above Pantora, a second fleet arrived in the system just behind them. A multitude of Lucrehulk-class Droid Control Ships and Core Ships carrying the droid legions of General Aut-X, whom would form a significant chunk of the invasion force at the behest of the Sith Emperor, Darth Carnifex. Each Lucrehulk was filled to the brim with Battle Droids, vehicles and everything else necessary to carry out the invasion of Pantora. On the bridge of one of the smaller core ships, Aut-X was sat contemplatively upon his command throne, going over tactical intelligence relayed to him by the Sith fleet. Enemy troop emplacements, locations of cities and other civilian centres and other useful data with which he might calculate a stratagem.


While the Sith fleet covered them, Aut-X's invasion armada formed a circular perimeter around Pantora, forming a tightly knit, "perfectly legal" blockade to prevent any unauthorised vessels from approaching or leaving the surface of the planet. Swarms of Vulture Droids emerged from the hangars of the Lucrehulks to assist in this regard, which began relentlessly eliminating several civilian transports attempting to leave the planet at the last minute. General Aut-X soon opened holo-communications with Darth Carnifex himself. "My liege. My invasion ships are in position to blockade Pantora. We are ready to commence our landing as soon as you command it."


Darth Carnifex

Darth Prazutis

Coren Starchaser


Edited by Aut-X, 19 June 2019 - 12:36 PM.



Scherezade deWinter

Scherezade deWinter

    The Blood Hound

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Location: Landing! At the capital city's dockyard!

Wearing: Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives  | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets

Allies: ORC

Enemies: TSE

Specific Tags: None yet but feel free to join or invite me in I'm cute and I got loads of weapons ♥

Post: One




The Giggledust broke through Pantora's atmo' from the opposite end that the Sith Empire forces were coming from, just in the nick of time before any legal blockading was starting. If someone had bothered to look through the cockpit, that someone would have seen the SIth ships from a distance. Or at least, those that weren't cloaked to the naked eye. Or maybe even those that weren't cloaked to the sensors. But that someone was not in the cockpit while this was happening, because she was in her storage bay, running back and forth with a Loth Wolf and a Duckie deWinter.


Long distance travels always made the Sithling jumpy, eager, and now that the storage bay had been entirely cleared of the debris and empty wodka bottles were gone, she could actually run in it. It also provided good exercise for her pets, and what kind of person would she be if she neglected her animal companions? Of course, there was that whole oh em effffff why are you taking your animal companions to a friggin' war zone what is wrong with youuuuu thing, but truth was, Scherezade had no clue she was approaching that. Her entire reason for being here in the first place, was because her sister made her!


Yes. The lovely Madalena Antares that everybody loved, had ordered her sister to come here, and had used her rank as Knight Commander with the Knights Obsidian to make her go there. Whether the sister knew or not that the other glowy eyed curvaceous and very lethal woman was also part of the Ministry of Secrets and her entire being a Pathfinder thing was a cover up, is something we will let some readers wonder about. 


So orders were given, and Scherezade had jumped on the Giggledist, with her animal companions, to an asteroid that… Well, she knew there was a colony of Talz on it, and she did like their blood a lot, but she couldn't go there and massacre them for it. After all, the asteroid was within Coalition space, and those meanies… Half of those she'd met had tried to arrest her while knowing she'd done nothing wrong (yeah, Dax Fyre, I'm looking at you boi), the other half had tried to come on to her by wetting their feathers with goopy saliva (hey Kingsley, 'sup?). It was… Probably one of those things that only happened to Scherezade.


There'd also been that entire incident on Rhen Var where she'd come with Coalition Forces and used the fact they were having fun storming the castle so that she could sneak in, get her butt stuck in the fence, steal some intel, and get a Sith Empire pilot to convert to Confederate sides, but that's all hush hush. Right.


So, now she was here, because her sister told her to, with specific instructions to go… To a friggin pawn shop? What were you thinking, Madalena, what?!


Once the time for games were up, Scherezade lifted her wolf and duck up to the second floor of her ship, and headed over to the cockpit. She was on planet by now, completely oblivious to what was happening in space. Just as a proper girl ought to.


Now all that was left was to pay the usual dock fees, and the city would become her oyster. Or. Well, she'd find the damn pawn shop and get out of there, before some Coalitioner decided to arrest her again.





Dax Fyre

Dax Fyre

    The Reaper of Won Shasot

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3 hour ago...


Location: Won Shasot, The Weeping Cliffs


There was a disturbing sense of calm that came with the Dark Side Nexus of Won Shasot. A tumultuous sea of anger, despair, fear, much like the stormy sea just over the edge of the broken, craggy rock. But at the center of it all, much like a storm, it was was blissful. Power, yours to bend should you have the will. And the strength to endure the price of that power.


It wasn't a habit of Dax's to indulge himself in that power. But, now with the prospect of being able to cheat his way out of it all...well he was a little bit more lenient with his tendencies. And now, standing in the center of the nexus, letting that sensation of power sink in and guide him. It was ecstasy.


Except...something was wrong...






The Verdict dropped out of hyperspace above Pantora, Sith vessels already hovering over the besieged planet. Feth it all. He wouldn't be able to do anything up here. After Rhen Var, there was no way Dax was about to take another ship to ship battle. To the Sparrow it was.


The small corvette launched from the hangar of the Verdict. The Dar-Itah was left in more capable hands than Dax's own, but in a corvette? He could handle that. The Sparrow darted around the perimeter of the attacking force and made a mad dash for the surface. "Coren Starchaser! I know you're here, you better answer this blasted call or so help me I will Force Throw you at the first trooper I see!" the Rogue angrily said, attempting to connect to the Jedi as the Sparrow screamed through the atmosphere towards the ground. This was going to be a much more exciting day than Dax had anticipated.


Yula Perl | Darth Carnifex

Edited by Dax Fyre, 19 June 2019 - 10:59 AM.





Vanessa Vantai

Vanessa Vantai

    Sith-Mandalorian Liaison

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Darth Carnifex



Aboard the Behemoth


It was a rare sight to see Vanessa on a vessel that was not her own. The belief in personal security had always been something she had greatly worried about, and this occasion was no different. Within eyesight of her were a quartet of bloodtroopers, all ready to fight as needed were their lord to be harmed by anyone who deemed her treacherous. She had determined that this battle would be best served on board the Behemoth instead of within the Heresiarch or the Ablution. Oh, those vessels would be involved, of course, but for now she would remain at the Emperor's side aboard his flagship.


"I see we aren't taking that approach." She said - the approach having been what she discussed. Imperial lives would be burnt on the planet's surface despite the fact that the Sith were not certain of being able to take the planet or not. A wasteful means of engagement, certainly, but they we not going to be her lives - the Darktrooper Corps would only serve as an anti-boarding force or ship-boarding force for this fight. The drop pods had been reconfigured to serve as boarding pods and would soon be prepped for use as the various fleet elements under Vanessa's control would enter the battlefield. A good number of them were at a variety of different staging areas, meaning Vanessa was going to have to figure out the logistics of wide-scale theater management.


A joy.


"My units are ready to engage their planetary defenses when you are, Kaine."

Atlas Drake

Atlas Drake

    Kathol's Finest

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Location: Pantora Orbit

Objective: Action Stations

Allies: Outer Rim Coalition - Coren Starchaser | Dax Fyre | Vela Alya T'Ser Sipal

Enemies: The Sith Empire - Khonsu Amon | Darth Carnifex | Darth Prazutis | Vanessa Vantai





"Full power to sublight! Hard starboard!"


By the Rift...


Captain Drake could feel his command throne shake under such heavy inertial dampener strain. Massive drives bloomed to furious life, maneuvering thrusters fired on full burn. The star dragon destroyer ponderously drifted aside just in time to avoid annihilation when the Goliath fired its superlaser. One of Utopia's flanking marauder corvettes was not so fortunate, caught too close to the event horizon its deflectors cooked off in seconds and then all one hundred fifty hands were just gone.


"Get me comms with the Pantoran Defense Fleet!"


"Can't raise them, captain!" one of his senior officers was laboring furiously over the bridge's main comm station, "Signal traffic is a mess! We're being hailed by the Revenant."


That was Admiral Rejal's ship, a Tahree-class Command Cruiser. Corbin Rejal was a Uukaablian flag officer, sent to welcome Pantora to the Coalition just as Atlas had been sent by his own people. Not hours ago the three of them had been laughing alongside Ambassador Sipal as if they were already old friends. Now he could only hope that the ambassador was still alive. That was how quickly fortunes could change in the Territories.


"Put him through," Atlas nodded, and a holographic projection of Rejal's face sprang to life over the bridge's central holotable.


"Ah, Captain. I am glad you made it to your ship. I am declaring an All Flags Crisis and seconding you under my direct operational authority."


"Understood, sir."


Drake processed this new information. Effectively, by the power of what scarce law bound their Coalition together, he was now under Rejal's command. In theory the Uukaablian had taken charge of them all, but Atlas knew the Pantorans would demand oversight if they even responded to the Revenant's hails. A shrewd officer like Corbin would give it to them, but the way things looked out the captain's viewport they had much larger problems to worry about. A few were even dreadnought sized.


"Continue evasive action. We'll get out from under their big guns, and set up a crossfire in low orbit."


It was a delaying tactic, but Atlas could see its value. They could not hope to stand their ground, however if they drifted down close to the upper atmosphere and away, both destroyers would be well positioned to harry enemy landing parties deploying for the surface. There were hundreds of enemy ships out there, and what military resources the Coalition could muster were still in a state of panic and disarray.


"Any luck raising the Pantorans?" he asked.


"We've just gotten through to their golan defense network. Standby."


Icons lit up across the Kathol officer's holodisplay. One by one the system's eight defense stations were coming fully online. Turbolaser batteries arced back at the Sith battle lines in thunderous retort, under any other circumstance their combined efforts would have manifested a storm cloud of unassailable capital killing firepower, but their enemy's numbers were simply overwhelming. Still, Atlas could see from here that the Pantorans were determined to defend their home no matter the odds. Imperials would have to earn every meter of space they took in blood.


"Launch Defender Squadron," Captain Drake cut through the subtle panic poisoning his own bridge crew, "Open a channel on the ShadowNet."


His crew mates leapt to dutifully comply.


"Broken saber. Repeat, broken saber. Coordinates to follow."

Edited by Atlas Drake, 20 June 2019 - 02:04 AM.



Gray Venasir

Gray Venasir

    Lost Balmorran noble

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Location: Pantora dockyard

Ship: in the sig

Allies: ORC and allies

Enemies: TSE and allies

Tags: no one special yet

Post 1


Come to Pantora, they had said. Take a few days off work, and just relax. Yeah, right, that is what had happened. Gray had arrived the day before, hoping to do just that: relax. Well, Pantora wasn't the best Place, but it was Close to where he was at the moment. So he had landed there.


But the relaxation hadn't lasted. The day after, he was greeted by a giant sith fleet, just above the planet. "What the kriff," he had shouted. This was certainly not a part of his relax-plan. People were panicking all around him. "poodoo. What to do, what to do?" he thought to himself. The time to act was short, and the time to decide even Shorter. In the end, the best answer seemed to run to his ship.


The docks were also full of panicking People, trying to get off. But it seemed all communal transport had stopped, more or less. Well, it was Worth a shot to try and get out With his own ship. Gray hurried over to it, not bothering With the People he pushed over. Get to the ship, get to the ship Finally, he was there. 


He sat Down in the pilots Chair, started up the engine. The ship took off. Once out of the dock, he saw that the sith had began setting up a blockade. "Son off a hutt" he shouted to the empty cockpit, except himself. "What am I supposed to do now?" Pantora was now a part of the Coalition. Maybe there were someone else there, whom he knew, which could help. It was Worth a shot. He activated the ship's communicator. "Hello, is anyone from the Coalition there? This is Gray Venasir, flying the Nightingale." Hopefully, someone he knew had heard it.

Seniya Nehir

Seniya Nehir

    S I L H O U E T T E S

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Location: Pantora Capital City
Objective: Investigate Try not to get Orbitally Bombarded off the Map
Allies: Dagon Perl | Outer Rim Coalition
Enemies: Apparently a lot.
This was supposed to be an open and shut case. A little bit of legwork, a little bit of snooping around the city, in and out within a couple of planetary cycles. Easy credits to fund the office renovations long overdue, maybe even a little extra to finally get those embossed business cards if they were lucky. All told, a proverbial blue milk run if everything went to schedule.
Which of course, it didn’t. 
Like so many years ago, destruction rained down without seemingly rhyme or reason. One minute the city was alive with the bustle of everyday life, the next… The sky was alight with a searing green wave of energy, with the outskirts of the city not long after that. Vanishing in a thunderous roar that ended almost as soon as it was gone, leaving nothing behind but blackened ash and twisted, warped pillars glass in its wake.  
Even several miles away, the silence that ensued was almost deafening. Only surpassed by the sudden rush and clamor as panic quickly overrode the shock of what just unfolded. Mass screams and hysteria breaking out in small, clustered pockets, no doubt soon to spread into riots and chaos. 
For the moment, however, Seniya was simply too stunned to take it all in. Her mouth frozen mid bite into the cheap hot dog - liberal on the mustard, conservative on the mayo, extra Ojomian onion rings - she’d just secured not seconds before, the entire thing dangling precariously while she stared blankly towards the section of the outer city that was now a smoldering scar on the moon’s surface. Her qukuuf marked features a veritable study of confusion that not even the force could make sense of.
The only benchmark it found from her modest library of experience was Thyferra, a place she had spent years trying to forget. And for good reason. There were nights when she still woke up in a cold sweat, the phantom sickly sweet smell of charred flesh and burnt bacta lingering in the air. There had been no warning shot back then. A small mercy now, but likely not one to be repeated. 
The Pantoran Hot Dog fell from her hand, splattering messily on the duracrete pavement as she abruptly snapped back to reality, already turning and reaching to grab the arm of her partner-in-law. Half-hauling, half shoving him for the cover of a nearby store doorway as the plaza around them began to erupt in panic. 

Acaleus Thorn

Acaleus Thorn

    CEO of Enryu Corp

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Objective: Perform a blockade. Infiltrate and takeover an enemy cruiser

Equipment: E.G.A.S, Skorpion Evo, Wrist Lightsabers

Allies: Needles and Venus, Gray Venasir , Scherezade deWinter and the ORC

Enemies: Darth Carnifex , Aut-X , the Sith Empire


He woke up out of a really bad nightmare in Nar Shadda. Venus entered his room, she was the only one able to do that, and threw his cape onto his stomach "Wake up. The entire Sith fleet is moving. You were right in placing one spy near their planet spaceports" "Yeah i figure with the bad dream..." said scratching his eyes "The Needles?" "Are waiting for you in the Cross of Mejai. I think we should arrive sooner than them" "Alright going" If the Sith Empire was attacking, probably any type of blockade wouldn´t work unless anyone had a large ion weapon to power down half of their fleet. Nothing could stop them from advancing or destroying everything in their path and...that was the thing that attracted Acaleus Thorn in the first place. A challenge. 


Once in the bridge, he stood up while Venus was sitting in the captain sit overseeing everything "Alright, do you have a plan or do you expect just to drop and..." "The Cross should stay at jump range of the planet. You will jump again into hyperspace and appear when their dropships start to get close to the planet. Me with a group of Needles will go in the Batarian and infiltrate into an enemy cruiser to create havoc among them" Of course she had the order to get away if things went south. The Batarian was a stealth ship and could easily pass almost every radar. 


In the moment hundreds and hundreds of ships in every size came out of hyperspace near Pantora, Acaleus and a small crew, each with an special space suit...waiting for the right moment to deal damage...



Edited by Acaleus Thorn, 19 June 2019 - 04:52 PM.



Weapons & Armor: Master Assassin Armor, Wrist Lightsabers Spider Gloves- Ship: Batarian - NPC pilot: Venus Company: Enryu Corp

Gilamar Skirata

Gilamar Skirata

    Approximate Knowledge of Many Things

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Objective: Bamboozle

Allies: Gray Venasir Atlas Drake

Enemies: Vanessa Vantai Darth Prazutis Darth Carnifex


"Moving through the Galaxy is gettin' harder every day," the old man grumbled from his command chair aboard the Ketyadyr. The aging Mandalorian dreadnought and its accompanying fleet were just leaving the Roche System, picking up supplies and bringing goods from the homeworld to the Mandalorian Colony in the asteroid belt. They were a nomadic people, always had been, but something you just can't imitate like a good bottle of tihaar or some of the spices that made Mandalorian food so spicy. That was partly why the fleet continued on the way it did. A byproduct of the Civil War was that no matter what rules changed at home, some Mandalorians just couldn't return home after they'd spilled their blood and Gil understood that. Even if he didn't publicly denounce or actively fight against the current Mand'alor he sympathized with those who chose to stay away from home and so his fleet ferried Mandalorians and Mandaorian goods across the Galaxy. 


Recently though Mandalorians flying the flag of the Mandalorian Empire, or the United Clans of Mandalore now, were raiding colonies, settlements, Jedi Temples, and entire planets. It was just like the days of his own grandfather during the Resource Wars, and this troubled him...And made it difficult to move around a fleet of Mandalorian ships, no matter how old they were which was part of the reason they were forced to leave as early as they had. Now the fleet traveled through Hyperspace and were almost at their destination. 



Another trading gig. They'd set up shop in system and the families aboard the various ships of the fleet would open shop for tourists and traders and mercenaries. It was how they kept the lights on. 


<Just under half an hour until we reach Pantora,> called an aging Mandalorain from one of the bridge consoles. Right on time then. Gil nodded and tapped a few buttons on his chair, paused to think, and then continued. A holo screen popped up before him to display a game. The old man smirked before muttering under his breath,


"Got you this time you little vhe'viin..!" The half hour went by quickly and by the time they reached the system the battle had already begun. In fact, the dreadnought nearly crashed into a Pantoran frigate as it dropped out of hyperspace. The ship lurched forward as alarms and klaxons started blaring. Gil cursed loudly and swiped away his game to bring up a tactical display. He hadn't seen a Sith fleet this large in over a decade. From the frantic shouting from the com officers it sounded like the other vessels were just as confused. Gil pressed a finger to the ship-wide comm on his chair and pulled his helmet over his head, its HUD linking to the ship's network. 


<Uhrm, it looks like we've run into a little snag. More like a Sith Warfleet. If you're combat get your shebs in gear, otherwise get to the closest shelter you can and lock up, seal up your armor and hang on to your buckets.> Throughout the Ketyadyr families scrambled about, shutting up shops they were preparing to open for Pantorans and leaping to action. Something that the Galaxy seemed to forget when thinking of Mandalorians was that though they had civilians like farmers and shop owners, everyone had been trained at some point in their life for military action. Though Hadvar and Saltia might have just been a couple with two babies who ran a noodle shop in the bowels of the dreadnought, they closed up shop and suited up with such efficiency like their neighbors that before the ship had taken its first shot to its robust shields the halls were clear and the hangars were alive with combat ready fighters and war droids. 


Echoylir wasn't looking for a fight, but the Outer Rim was where they called home and the people of the Coalition were their customers and some of them were family and they'd be dammed if they would just watch it burn. 


<Make sure the life ships take rear positions, move tell the Bear, Ordo and Monroe to move and take point. Let's at least get our Needlers out and get a fighter screen out! They're packed tight so tell our damn pilots to be careful. No heroics...Yet.> He was sure that a Mandalorian fleet dropping out of hyperspace right behind the Sith would draw the ire of the Pantorans considering the Mandalorian and Sith alliance. But he had to at least try. The only way to survive this was...well to play the part. His eyes scanned the tactical display for any vessel he recognized with the Coalition he found none and tried the next best thing. 


<Get our UCM codes broadcasting, we don't want the Sith to fire on us just yet. Hail the Kathol Republic vessel, but just send them a text transmission, something that will let them know we're on their side.> The message was away and now he stood again and sighed. <Now hail the Emperor, we should at least let him know we're here.> The room became quiet but the comm officer nodded. A device protruded from the ceiling and scanned Gil in blue light, casting his likeness to the Behemoth II...

Edited by Gilamar Skirata, 19 June 2019 - 01:53 PM.

Dagon Perl

Dagon Perl

    curiosity kills the cat

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Location: Pantora Capital City

Objective: not die lol

Allies: Seniya Nehir | Outer Rim Coalition

Enemies: TSE




He'd gone private. There was only as much as he could achieve in terms of some sort of justice in the corrupt Terminus PD. Lone Star Agency was his ticket off that mess and onto a new pursuit.


Disillusioned in his dream of achieving greater justice in the Outer Rim, Dagon easily accepted his genes taking over. A bit more alcohol, a bit more tobacco, a bit more strip clubs. He no longer was Yula Perl's antipode but neither did he switch to the side of crime. The fancy suits no longer shone as they did before, they'd reflected the state of his former grand and naive ambitions.




Deliver justice in return for cash.


Boy, didn't that Corellian blood run hot in him. As much as the rest of the fam had thought the exact opposite.


So Lone Star Agency, huh? Dagon wouldn't tell you much about it cause there was nothing much to tell. Used to be a solo shindig ran by his now partner-in-law Seniya before he came in with no CV but with a sharp mind and a snarky mouth.


Seniya, you ask? Yeah, they got along usually, no Connie and Blyde but no real animosity between them. It's prolly why he fit in well. Got almost similar views but she was the less, you know, Corellian-Zeltron mix.


Alright, you're probably yawning right now so let's get to business.


See, the two of 'em had hit Pantora after a really long voyage on the promise of a blue milk run and more importantly - these blue hawt dawgs this side of the galaxy been loud about. Voyage was so long, Seniya often found him drooling in his sleep over the dream of him tasting them.


So when Doomsday arrived on Pantora and hurled his gawd damn blue hawt dawg off his mouth right before he took the first bite. Boy was he pissed.


For a moment.


It's hard to be pissed off when you are in the midst of apocalypse. The End of Days. Armageddon. 


"WHERE?" He spread his arms gesturing at the chaos around them as he slid across to wherever the hell Seniya was shoving him to.


Worst of it all - his blue hawt dawg got stampeded.


And that was more disappointing than the green beam of death that just hit 'em.


Edited by Dagon Perl, 19 June 2019 - 02:09 PM.


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Vectivus-class Carrier Cruiser, Umbral Quiver

249th Escort Force


The ride had been one of contemplative silence. Huddled inside the cockpit of his Dominance strike fighter he gently scratched at an irritation on the scales of his jaw with one long claw, careful not to catch the fabric of his flight suit. He was not the only one occupying their fighters, the entire wing had been ordered to prepare for an immediate launch once the carrier had achieved hyperspace terminus with the rest of the fleet. They knew it was coming at any second, but it was the not knowing of when exactly it would happen that was eating at them. Some japes and playful words were pitched back and forth across the wing's communication channel, but for the most part everyone was resigned to their solemn silence.


They had a grim task ahead of them. 


Not that any of them complained or objected, they had carried out missions like this before. That didn't mean they went about it with all the smiles and jovial mirth of a street performer, at least the pilots of this wing didn't. There were tails of other fighter squadrons boasting and making a game out of what they did, but not Raptor Wing. Raptor Wing took their oaths and obligations morosely and did not like to linger on what they were being commanded to do.


But they did it anyways, for the Empire. That's all that mattered. 


Klaxons blared as the cerulean streak of hyperspace quelled and slowed until the black canvas of space pock-marked by pinpricks of starlight came into focus. SarKa affixed the rictus grin of the pilot's helmet over his snout, making sure it was sealed up good and tight. One by one the strike fighters onboard the Umbral Quiver rumbled into life and with steady hands they eased their fighters out of the bay and into a world streaked with transcendent emeralds and blinding crimsons, the battle blossoming into being immediately after exiting hyperspace. But their fight wasn't among the stars, not when serving as an escort for several squadrons of heavy bombers and StarFortresses. 


Their target?


The cities of Pantora. 


Their objective?




Loreena Arenais

Loreena Arenais

    Padawan to Veiere Arenais

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Location: Pantora Orbit in Jaster's Sparrow (in sig)

Objective: Stay Alive

Allies: Outer Rim Coalition - Atlas Drake Gray Venasir

Enemies: The Sith Empire - @Khonsu Amon




Lori nearly spit out her fruity soda all over the console as the Jaster's Sparrow jumped out of hyperspace near Pantora. She was on her way to refuel before hitting Bakura to visit Minna Balin . The sensor's on the Mantis class vessel were going crazy, but it wasn't as though they needed to. Through the viewscreens the combat vessels were easily seen in close proximity, and already they were engaged in combat. 


Arla was puick to pipe up. "We haven't gotten enough fuel to make another jump that's far enough away. The scanners are pulling Sith Empire tags and....the Outer Rim Coalition."


"That's the group that my Mom had me attend a meeting with!" The young Captain thought back to that one. It was her first meeting of that kind and mostly she just listened, taking in how intergalactic politics started out. That was what it was about afterall; the start of some form of alliance between ORC and her Mom's Empire of Zakuul. And now it seemed as though there was going to be more going on than just trade. With not enough fuel to get to safety, the only thing that they could do was try to help get rid of the Sith while trying not to get killed. "We gotta help them, Arla."


"I don't think that's wise. We should try to avoid the fight and find some place safer. Maybe in one of ORC's bigger ships?"


"But Arla, we really should take some of those Sith out so that we could prove to ORC that we're on their side. They could think that we're fibbing or something. This is war! They only have time to shoot first and ask questions later!"


"Our IDF tags should identify us."


"Yeah but they may see that it's a MANDALORIAN-made vessel! They almost have as many enemies as my Mom does!" From what she had heard from Kay Arenais and Veiere Arenais about the whole mess of politics that was tearing their family apart, the Mandalorians were in the thick of it.


"I'll open a channel and you can send in a transmission."


Lori buckled herself in after downing the rest of her drink. "Alright. I'll fly us and you man the guns."


"Understood, Captain." Arla opened up a channel, just in time to catch the transmission by Gray Venasir. The man was a part of their crew, but he was supposed to be enjoying some time off. That was unfortunate that he chose Pantora to go to.


Lori overheard it and sent in her reply. ~Gray! It's Captain Lori! Do you need an evac or something?! We just got here and wow...it's really bad! WE don't have a whole lot of fuel to jump to safety, but we'll help!~ As if to emphasize the point, Arla began to open fire on one of the frigates that was in close enough range. Lori gripped the controls and began to steer the Jaster's Sparrow towards the frigate. Her goal was simple; draw them away so that some ships might be able to escape. All while she waited to hear back from her crewmate.


Amea Virou

Amea Virou
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Allies: ORC
Enemies: Not ORC

Soykaf. A cheap, oddly flavorful drink considering where it came from. The Hex weren’t unkind masters to those that they held by the horns. While Amea hated being used for muscle, the occasional run for the secretive organization would put her within the good graces of some of the most powerful individuals around the galaxy who could help keep her Warden identity intact should she ever have a need for it. In the long run it meant that she could afford to rest just a little while longer between her own personal runs.

For this one she was meant to meet up with an agent by the codename of Cinder. He was a family man, or at least so the brief on his cover implied. Lived a great luxurious life amongst the upper circles on Arkania and supposedly knew where parts of a big shipment of something nasty was changing hands. He had been cagey about it, but the threat had been bubbling up along the outer rim for a while now. Usually Amea would have jumped at the chance to disrupt such an operation herself, but the Hex had taken an interest in it and she knew better than to upset the powers that be. After all, the benefit of their arrangement certainly worked in reverse as well and given the imbalance between the pros and cons to being in their good graces she was willing to sell her soul for the occasional pain.

The café that Amea was seated in was filled with people. It was not a big establishment by any particular means, but big enough for two people to meet up and discuss what they would hypothetically do to clean up some of the more ill-reputed parts of the Outer Rim. So there sat Agent Effigy, waiting on Cinder. She swore the Hexmaster had picked her only for the matching names, the master was hard to predict like that.

The holographic device attached around Amea’s wrist began to shiver. She turned the screen projection on to see what it wanted. It was Cinder. Her brow perked and she answered the call, the Arkanian man’s sharp features projecting to bring his visage eye-to-eye with her. For a second he is about to speak, but he is cut short as someone calls out for his attention. One scream hisses through the quieted holographic device before several others join with it. Cinder turns to look away, up towards the sky before his previously calm demeanor changes to one of sheer terror.

And after that, the call ended. A second passed in complete confusion as Amea blinked herself back to reality, but more than that she would not be afforded. The ground below her shook in a violent tremor as if the entire building had been thrown into the air and then fallen back again. Dust spread through the establishment as cracks began to spread along the pillars in the wall.

“EVERYONE OUT!” The owner screamed as panic spread like wildfire across the café and the establishments around it. “NOW!”

Following the others Amea stepped outside to see a district in turmoil. From afar she could see the shape of a massive dust cloud unlike any other dust cloud she had ever seen before. Things were about to get bad.

Edited by Amea Virou, 19 June 2019 - 02:39 PM.

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Griet van Vliet

Griet van Vliet

    Jedi Accountant

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Location: Pantora surface

Equipment: In signature

Allies: ORC

Enemies: Sith


Three hours ago...


Even though the Aing-Tii were more difficult to understand as potential clients than initially expected, here the Jedi accountant was taking part in the week-long festival celebrating Pantora's inclusion into the ORC as part of the stuff required of her for client development. What's up with those prospective clients? The most troublesome clients are those that expect their auditors to bend themselves over outside of work: I know this by now, she thought, while Griet seemed to be unhappy to be with the client at those festivities in question. But all too often, a client that asked for that sort of stuff is just asking for big trouble. Plus she knew audit engagements weren't always going well, even though most clients got unqualified audit opinions, and some unlucky few got qualified ones, and even fewer still had adverse opinions. She'd rather start sending out requests for confirmation letters from the client's banks, as well as the bank statements as at the year-end, and inspect the corresponding bank reconciliations (from imprest accounts such as petty cash and payroll, as well as from general-purpose bank accounts) than to be in these festivities.




Present time


"What's happening? What does this mean?" the prospective client asked Griet when the tremors started shaking the location they're at.


"A disaster that will be disclosed without fail in whatever financial statements you will be getting out of this, and possibly going concern problems, too"


Not only the ground was shaking all over the place, when Griet just turned around, she saw a huge beam hitting the ground a few kilometers away. This could only mean one thing: orbital bombardment. Her look on her face went from showing insatisfaction to surprise, and then her face went red, puzzled at what sort of enemy would even consider attacking Pantora. And also why. Yes, she was a crucial person in the theft of those Jedi artifacts on Rhen Var, ultimately made at the behest of her would-be Aing-Tii clients, which have yet to decide between VPN and another firm. But, for what she knew, there could be other motives, and these attackers could well have nothing to do with these artifacts. Who is attacking Pantora? Why? I currently have no way to know for certain why this attack is even happening, she thought, while taking her client to safety, driving the firm's speeder that she used for hopping from a client's location to another when on audits. As much as there actually was such a thing as taking someone to safety when an orbital bombardment was happening. For what I know, the attackers may as well be monsters that don't discriminate when they go on the offensive.


"To be more precise, orbital bombardment. So I have to tell the head office that every client on this moon whose audits are ongoing will have that note on their financial statements have a risk of going concern, at least as far as their Pantoran operations are concerned"

Edited by Griet van Vliet, 20 June 2019 - 10:07 AM.

Cotan Sar'andor

Cotan Sar'andor

    Mr. Save-The-Galaxy

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"Well, Kiss, looks like we made it just in time!" Cotan exclaimed to his droid, as his freighter dropped out of hyperspace. Sith vessels were veritably swarming around the planet, with a pitched battle already underway. "Patch us in to ORC comms, quick. I need to figure out who's here and what's going on." He'd gotten a call for aid from some of the other Judges, while they were high-tailing it from Rhen Var; sure enough, they were right. They'd been followed down all the way to Pantora.
And by the Emperor's flagship, no less. Good.
K1-S5 started beeping at him after a moment, and the comms popped up near-instaneously. "Coren Starchaser! I know you're here, you better answer this blasted call or so help me I will Force Throw you at the first trooper I see!Cotan grinned, recognizing the voice on the other side. He'd never had any real interaction with the man, but there were few Judges who wouldn't recognize Dax. "Be nice to the old man," he jokingly chided through the comms. "He'll get to you when he gets to you, Dax, assuming he doesn't get himself blasted out of the sky first." He threw his ship into a roll, evading a stray blast of cannon fire from a Sith fighter.


He hit a button, activating his mic again. "So, Coren, why is it that every time we meet up you're getting into some sort of trouble? Leading the Sith back to ORC space, really, man?" He dodged another blast of laser cannon fire, this time destroying the offending fighter. "Good thing you've always got good ol' Cotan Sar'andor to come to the rescue for you, eh? Hey, Dax, Coren, what do you say the three of us go take the part of His Highness's welcoming party?" He glanced out of his viewport back up at the Behemoth II. The ship was well-named, befitting both its overlarge size and that of the Emperor who commanded it. "I think he misses us from Coruscant, don't you? Besides, we don't want to be rude to the emperor."


Dax Fyre Coren Starchaser Darth Carnifex

Iresias Sirax

Iresias Sirax


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Location: Pantora Capital City

Objective: Survive

Allies: ORC

Enemies: Them darn laser shootin' Sith fellas.







Iresias was by her lonesome when it happened. She was looking down below at the streets from a suite only to see people screaming in panic, their facial expressions beginning to paint the picture of what could only be described as having seen death itself. She felt her very room quiver and shake as something impacted the surface of the planet, the glass of the windows becoming fragmented from a shock wave. 


Excitement flooded into Iresias' broken body as she felt the multitude of lives that were snuffed out of existence. Chills ran along her spine as she gasped. Not in her whole life had she ever experienced something akin to this... euphoria. Savoring this moment, Iresias made her way to ground level. Out on the streets there was mass hysteria, panic and suffering. Confusion rocked the sector of the city as they all scrambled for refuge.


There was no anticipation, only fear.


And in that fear, Iresias found her place. 


Their fear gave her purpose. 


Her muscles became taut, eyes narrowing behind her mask upon the sky as she felt a strange connection with what was to come. A presence that also gorged upon the weakness of those that fled. She welcomed it.


To Iresias, this was a challenge. 


With a violent gust of wind came the remains of an untold number of lives, dust blanketing everything in a thin sheet. Iresias held out her right hand, like a curious child that was seeing snow for the first time. All their hopes and dreams, their bones and tears now upon her finger tips as she rubbed them together.


This was going to be fun.



Edited by Iresias Sirax, 19 June 2019 - 03:52 PM.





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Location: Pantoras

Allies: ORC and their allies

Enemies: TSE and their allies

Tagging: Nobody yet

Objective: Business


The opportunity to make more business contacts couldn't be missed by Ra. Once upon a time, she had been to a small gathering of people from across the galaxy. Her name had gotten out there then, but she had heard nothing since. Her life had changed a bit since then, but she was still a businesswoman. 


That desire to get out, meet new people and make money drove her. Not having forgotten her past, she had tried putting some of it behind her. Cutting contact with certain groups and people, she had made herself a new future. Some of her actions might be questionable and a few of them had led her into sticky situations. Thankfully they had mostly been taken care of now and she was able to freely move around again.


This freedom took her to Pantoras and she walked the streets searching for potential contacts.