Dominion A Ring Of Lies | TSE Dominion Of Ringo Vinda

[IMPCOM]

SITREP
The price of Empire grows ever burdening. The Sith stand on the brink of galactic scale war and such titanic ambitions necessitate more worlds be put to the crimson saber.

Ringo Vinda. Not a world rampant within the holo-archives of Galactic history but still a planet of great potential nevertheless. Unique in the enclosing artificial planetary ring that circles the planet ; housing the manufacturing apparatus to create additional Sith warships to be funneled directly to the front-lines ; nestled in a vital strategic position.

Metalorn. Accompanying the already vital manufacturing utilities of Ringo Vinda ; Metalorn was one of the many industrial worlds within the pumping arteries of the Galactic Empire of old and thus it must serve its purpose once more on the Sith-Imperial frontier.

----​

OBJECTIVE I - THE RING
If the Sith-Empire is to establish a proper foothold for future core-ward expansion the accompanying artificial ring of Ringo Vinda must be claimed intact by the Sith Empire. The civilian graving docks already humming within the planet’s super structure will prove to be a useful strategic asset in the wars to come. Capture the driveyards from the planetary government and rogue profiteers that have commandeered them so that they may be repurposed to forge Sith-Imperial warships.

OBJECTIVE II - THE POLITICAL ARENA
The political apparatus of Ringo Vinda is managed by an antiquated, often corrupt and easily manipulated lottery system to choose its rulers on a foolishly arbitrary basis. Deposing and manipulating weak leadership should prove instrumental in cementing Sith-Imperial rule. Extort, pay off or murder members of the Ringo Vinda senate as you see fit. Worry not for the consequences ; the administrators can clean the mess we’ve left.

OBJECTIVE III - METALORN
An industrial wasteland, the world of Metalorn has been overtaken by scrap warlords ; revitalizing the earlier Imperial and Seperatist manufactorums to create ramshackled armies of vehicles and droids of both ancient Galactic Imperial and Techno Union manufactory. Seize the means of production and plant the crimson banner atop the decrepit industrial wastes so the world may prove useful once more as another cog in the grand Sith-Imperial war machine.


OBJECTIVE IV - BRING YOUR OWN
The Emperor expects results above all else ; get the job done by whatever means you see fit.

​

 

[Senna Valerian]

Objective II - Make the Politicians Sing
Location - On Route, Ringo Vinda Senate
Allies: Joycelyn Zambrano
Current Theme: [x]
--

Infiltration of the planet had been easy enough, an unmarked transport, a few secretly armed soldiers by her side in civilians clothing; who would have expected the first feet on the ground if they looked like their fellow neighbors. That was besides the behemoth woman that stepped out behind them, posing as off world royalty with reason to meet with the upper elite of the world. Gold and silver jewelry clung to tanned skin adorned in fine robes of vibrant hue, fiery red hair pulled up into a large mass behind well toned form.

Emerald eyes scanned the vicinity as they made was, the idle guard or two shoved behind closed doors only for another to emerge in their armor moments later. They had twenty minutes before the next transport arrived, then likely all hell would break loose-

A scream.

Correction, they had zero minutes. A wave of men and woman brandishing the sigils of Ringo Vinda began to file past only to have a handful cut through the center, gazes turning to the fine sword now coated in crimson, a few bodies slumping to the ground below. Blaster fire began to rain, civilians scattering to any safety they could reach only to be mowed down by the legion of Imperial soldiers beginning to take presence.

The poor souls before Senna Valerian knew not who they faced, no one did. In one hand a crimson saber deflected fire as the agile giant bobbed and weaved between opponent to opponent, a dark glare gripping her face as she slashed and ripped through any in her way. There would be no negotiation but surrender, and even then, likelihood of survival was questionable. Now was just a matter of making it to the highly guarded corrupt elite miles away in a see of panic.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

Objective I: The Ring - Driveyard Sector 14B​

Post: 1​

Focus: --​

Perspective: Wirm'nael'armiir​

Theme​

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"Thirty seconds. Remember your job." The Chiss sounded out coldly through the muffled comms of his airborne pattern helmet.​

​

A field test- among the first of many of the commando units that were the brain child between Lord Colonel Wirm and his superior ; General Irveric Tavlar. The Sith contained great power but they would seldom operate so willingly under the command of someone of Tavlar's ilk. Thus he necessitated and all but demanded the creation of a commando unit as a counter to any problems that were more fitting for the crimson saber wielding force users among the Empire rather than amassed Sith Troopers.​

​

Ringo Vinda would be one of many steps in perfecting this brand of soldier. The first step ; cohesion. There was little resistance expected from the mustered security forces of the drive-yards. With an adversary as barely pieced together as this ; not a single mistake would be tolerated. If this unit was to be effective by any means it needed to have a precision engineered weld of teamwork between each of them.​

​

What felt like several seconds and several hours all at once; the boarding pod slams into the outward edge of the graving docks. To the legionnaires within the impact felt like a small car crash ; the troopers jolted in their seats but remained strapped down. It wasn't but a split second before the Chiss freed himself from the retraints ; the ebon clad commandos quick to follow before two pointmen each armed with 'Inferos' pattern disruptor rifles led the squad from the breach made from the boarding pod into an all but barren corridor. ​

​

The glass-steel panes on the opposite side overlooking the planet as the commando squad funneled out in both directions ; in a half-circle around the breach of the boarding pod they knelt down in silence with weapons at the ready ; awaiting further command from their Chiss officer who clutched his 'autokrator' tightly in both hands, isolating his hearing he felt the dead silence in the room, holding up a clenched fist to signal his unit remain still before standing up and patting the shoulder of one of the pointmen twice and with a low clatter of plasteel plates the unit was on the move again ; making way toward one of the blast-doors flanking the hallway Wirm held up a closed fist once more with his left hand ; the other still tightly clutching the pistol grip of his carbine.

Unfurling his fingers out flatly he made a faint chopping motion downward. 'Slice'. On the wordless command one of the commandos slung his blaster-rifle over his shoulder, kneeling down as he began to prod and pick at the door controls. With a durasteel hiss ; the blastdoors shot open.​

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[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective II: Aggressive Negotiations
Location: Ringo Vinda Senate
Allies: Senna Valerian

What nerve!

Joycelyn tugged at the gauntlet of her light armour. Her lightsabre hung from her belt, close to the hand she had set firmly on her hip. She stared up at the senate building which had promptly barred her entry, despite her rather diplomatic offer to let them surrender to the Sith Empire and be spared. Now she needed another way inside, another way to persuade them.

"The sycophants of Ringo Vinda reject progress and the good of the people!" "They plug their ears to the conflict around them, and turn away all offers of protection." "Their interests are in re-election, not your safety or prosperity."

Joycelyn turned to look at those who had stopped and listened to her words. Around her stood two crownguard and five legionnaires, weapons pointed down, but present, ready to protect the Princess of Dromund Kaas. The people did not appear aggressive toward her. Rather, they seemed quizzical as to the merit of her statements.

"We will purge this system of corruption."

She raised her hands, palms toward her, and curled the fingers as she closed her eyes. The heavy doors of the senate creaked and complained as she gripped it with the force and began to pull and twist.

In the distance, a wave of screams and panic gripped the public as Senna and her group forced their way through.

 

[AMCO]

Objective III: Field testing. | Seizing the means of production.
Controlling: Sith-Imperial "Scourge" Mk. II War Droid
Tags: N/A | Feel free.
Post Number I
---

Metalorn. A disgustingly overpolluted slagheap of a world, but a strategically valuable one.

Good thing he wouldn't have to set foot on the planet, at least directly.

Eyes close, the Knight sat silently within the lightless Qabbrat of the modified Enigma-class Surveillance Corvette, a passing shadow to all but the most dedicated of sensors. Extending his consciousness inward and then outward, he felt the guarded mind of the Tsudakyr Drone, felt it cede its autonomy to its Lord and Creator.

Then, there was light. Feelings. Impressions. His body was flesh, yet it was also steel, uncaring of the vacuum of space. With a quick order to the strange mind with which he shared this body, a message was relayed, clamps detached, and together they began to fall through the planet's atmosphere. Towards one of the planet's vast manufactorums. Towards the criminals and savages who, in their folly, would not bow to their betters.

 

[Senna Valerian]

Objective II - Make the Politicians Sing
Location - On Route, Ringo Vinda Senate
Allies: Joycelyn Zambrano
Current Theme: [x]
--

Eventually the screams died down, those who hadn't run for their lives or surrendered on the path cut down and dragged away by the soldiers following Senna's path. Formerly held by Mandalore some of the civilians still held ties with the clans in ruins; and those who did would not make this as easy as The Empire had hoped. Though few were smart enough to understand that no one could stand in their way.

The golden skinned woman made way through the city, through districts, through blood and within time arrived at the large steel doors blocking entrance to assembly, emerald eyes cast upon Joycelyn Zambrano on approach.

"They are done with negotiations." Stepping forward large fists gripped the edge of the metal cracked open wide, the steel buckling as Senna exerted pure strength over its form and pulled apart with all might she could muster. The doors didn't appreciate it. They did not open to full width, though soon the craftsmanship crumbled in her hands and the gap widened to permit the entry of one at a time, any mechanisms that once opened or closed the giant barrier not creaking and whirring without reprieve.

With little exhaustion spared Senna stepped into the chamber, leaving the princess of dromund kaas behind. Pulling a large curved blade from her back, she was ready to begin her own version of negotiations.

 

[Eversor]

Objective: III - Enforce Doctrine
Location: En Route, Metalorn
Allies: N/A

Armored Transport - Shuttle V0-1

There was fire on the horizon. Blood sizzled against heated durasteel, and ash blanketed all that was natural. Silas couldn't quite piece together the meaning of his visions, or why they come to him during meditation. The only significant detail to make note of however was a man - a thing that resembled a man clad with midnight resolve and wielding fire in his very hands. It was familiar in some way, something about it resonated deeply with the acolyte. Was it a glimpse at what was to come? Or was it a warning?

Silas slowly inhaled, letting the sterile scent of the shuttle's interior fill his lungs before exhaling. His eyes opened.

The young man stood, looking upon his helmet as it lay atop a terminal flickering with red and white hues. It all seemed so strange, how Silas couldn't recall much of his childhood. The faces of his parents, nor the home he grew up in. All he knew was death, and through death he had further lost touch with the humanity within. None of it made much sense, but Silas didn't like to question it. It was just easier that way. Helmet in hand, Silas slowly placed it upon his head. Magnetic locks activating to secure the armor.

An automated voice chimed in suddenly: "ETA 10 minutes. Please secure all essential resources and personal effects."

 

[Tsyok]

Objective: I - The Ring
Location: Ringo Vinda Orbital Ring

The lights inside the transport remained dimmed as the craft exited hyperspace above Ringo Vinda, sliding into position near one of the orbital ring's docking ports swiftly and silently. They were but one of over a dozen transports converging on the orbital ring of Ringo Vinda, each one with their own set of objectives to achieve.​

​

In this particular vessel was the Sith General Gol'zan, Spear of the Emperor's Might. ​

​

At his side, he carried his lightsaber, the bloodletter of infidels and heretics alike, and across his scarlet muscles, he wore a carapace of black segmented armor. His soldiers were dressed in a similar manner, wearing the black plate of Imperial Legionnaires with the crimson insignia of the Sith Empire emblazoned across their shoulders. They were highly disciplined veteran warriors, having fought at the General's side for dozens of campaigns. Nothing could shake their devotion to the Empire, and their nerves were calm and rigid as steel as they connected with the underside of the station's hull.​

​

A hiss as the transport's cabin was pressurized to equal that of the station's interior, the artificial gravity turned off so that the Sith and his soldiers could ready themselves. The access hatch open and Gol'zan thrust up into the station, lightsaber ignited as he cut down one of the station's security guards that had come to investigate the disturbance. ​

​

"Execute the Emperor's Will, my faithful."​

 

[Jyon Hlervu]

Objective: III - Seize the Manufactorums from the Scrap Warlords
Location: On route to Metalorn
Allies: None for now

While others may not see or understand the true value of a world full of scattered industrial waste, Jyon was different. The world of Metalorn was a place dominated by a whole handful of scrap warlords, and with not much viable competition to wrestle the power away from these scoundrels, their pitiful display of power had gone unchecked. No more. The Sith Empire had laid its conquering gaze upon the untold riches of the scrap world, and the Sith Knight was one of many that had been tasked to bring the revitalised manufactorums under the Empire’s control.

These decrepit factories had produced too much for scum like these and it was time that these resources were put to better use and aid to fuel the Sith Empire in its future conquests. Clad in a suit of obsidian black armour with her twin lightsabers hanging at her side, Jyon was ready to bring devastation upon the warlords of Metalorn. She chuckled to herself as she imagined the warlords going about their usual routine, thinking that this day would be no different than any other in their pathetic lives so far. They would find themselves so wrong. She had no knowledge about the other Sith that had also been sent to the scrap world to aid in the liberation of the facilities, and that did not matter to her now.

She would face that issue when it came to it.

Quickly securing her long jet black locks into a bun, Jyon placed her helmet gently onto her head, the magnetic locks activating to secure the armour. A series of beeps followed by an automated voice told her that touchdown would commence in less than five minutes.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective II: Aggressive Negotiations
Location: Ringo Vinda Senate
Tag: Senna Valerian

Wait, what?!

Joycelyn opened her eyes as she felt the interruption to her telekinetic crumpling of the doors by the woman who rushed in and ripped them open by hand. She was unsure what she felt; offended, confused, impressed, a little miffed, definitely intrigued. This woman knew how to make an entrance and had caught Joycelyn in one of her theatrical moments, only to upstage her with a move that was straight out of Joyce's own book.

She spun around on her heel to face the woman as she pressed through and made her way inside the senate. Her eyebrows wrinkled as she stared at the red ponytail vanishing inside. Joycelyn's troops looked at their Princess, then at the door, then the princess again. The Vahlacanthix prompty grabbed one of the doors and pushed it further open to give herself easier passage.

Red hair, blessed by Vahl - Yes, definitely impressive.

Swiping her lightsabre from her belt, Joycelyn headed inside. The troops following with some trepidation concerning the mental state of their commander. With a snap and hiss, the bloodshine blade in Joycelyn's hand ignited and cast its carmine across every wall. In her hand, the blade looked more like a knife than a fully sized sabre. Yet, with the way she held it and advanced, it was not less threatening.

"Hey you!" Joycelyn called after the red-haired woman.

One of the senate guards who decided this was a good time to advance and do their job. He jabbed his force pike at Joycelyn's leg, but found himself halted by a swift kick to the chest, followed by a shot in the back by one of the legionnaires.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Objective III - Defeat scrap warlords conclusively, put humility to humanity
Eversor Jyon Hlervu AMCO

Metalorn was a good deal warmer than most Whiphids preferred. Velok's hunting party went naked. No prudish humans would be offended, of course: long wiry fur covered all the particulars and then some.

A scarred Whiphid Raider corvette had dropped them in the heart of scrap warlord territory. As the first junker vehicles and killdroids broke the jagged horizon, the Whiphids opened fire. Blue Ice automatic grenade launchers chugged forty-millimeter ion and CryoBan ordnance through the scrapheaps. Bitter wind swirled around, comfortably subzero. If it inconvenienced human forces...oh well.

 

[AMCO]

Objective III: Field testing. | Seizing the means of production.
Controlling: Sith-Imperial "Scourge" Mk. II War Droid
Tags: Feel free. | Eversor , Jyon Hlervu , Velok Brokentusk
Post Number II
---

As he hurtled through the atmosphere like a falling asteroid, flames danced across his borrowed form as its passing ignited pocket of atmospheric gasses, hardly bothering the hermetically sealed orb itself, its dark chassis unscarred by the violence of their entrance.

His awareness reached inward, found the native mind of the construct. Together, they waited, a drone and its Master.

On the ground, a sizeable formation of poorly assembled battle droids peered upward in confusion, processors failing to comprehend the strange sight until it was already too late. With a strange sizzling of energies, the orb's microrepulsors burst into action, turning a terminal fall into a graceful perch within less than a second, the droid unfurling atop a small hill of junk, surrounded by foes.

With but a thought, a shield burst into existence. As a Sith, he knew power, but there was still something deeply exhilarating about this new form he had borrowed, about the weapons that were now as limbs. Wasting no more time, his pulse cannon fired, and the destruction commenced.

 

[Eversor]

Objective: III
Location: Unknown - Junkyard
Allies: AMCO | Velok Brokentusk | Jyon Hlervu

A slight turbulence rocked the nondescript transport, the ramp slowly unfolding itself from the shuttle's rear. Upon first glance the wreckage of various metals and decommissioned freighters all seemed rather unassuming. Various service droids scurried about and wheeled themselves around, recovering data from the multitude of disassembled ships. A thick smog polluted the biosphere, or what remained of one. Upon taking his first steps away from his shuttle, Silas relinquished the hilt of his lightsaber, his right gauntlet clenching down on the rusted exterior of the weapon.

Further up ahead, Silas made note of a roving band of what appeared to be enforcers of some definition or another. Bodies clad with civilian-grade protection and armed with discontinued variations of Imperial arsenal. From what Silas' HUD could gather from the Empire's database, the group was listed as all belonging to the Skakoan species. Not native to this world, but curiously adapted to it.

Silas kept his composure for the time being, making note of the fact that others had made it planetside as well and had already begun the annexation. The squad of enforcers noticed previously had taken a rather distasteful attitude towards the newly arrived young Sith. Their blasters raised and primed, their demeanor all too telling of what they thought they'd accomplish. Silas remained silent.

Suddenly, a wild electronic screech/hiss broke the tension and with one fluid movement, Silas launched the lightsaber from his hand, the distinguished crimson blade creating a beautiful spiral as it tore through the would-be assailants, promptly returning to the acolyte's grasp.

"Typical..." Silas mused.

 

[Senna Valerian]

Objective II - Make the Politicians Sing
Location - On Route, Ringo Vinda Senate
Allies: Joycelyn Zambrano
Current Theme: [x]
--

Senna spared a glance to the princess over her shoulder, then focused her attention back to the cowering senate in just the right time to watch the poor man take a jab at Joycelyn's ankles. There was just the barest look of amusement in her eye, brow arched in challenging glare as the jewelry rattled from her shift. Those same eyes now locked on the poor souls trapped by a one way exit.

"Now, I believe the lady asked you all nicely at first." A hand outstretched, one of the younger women, likely an assistant or something or other was pulled towards her through the force. Wrapping a large hand across the girls shoulder the golden skinned giant by comparison stared over them, tightening her grasp as the bone cracked in her grip and the girl screamed in pain. "Niceties are over."

The large blade ran up the back of her example, blood spraying to the side as she kicked her towards them and began circling.

"Let this be a lesson. The Empire does not give second chances." Crimson soaked the concrete floor, pooling towards the huddled group as Senna pressed closer, yet paced at a distance like a predator stalking its prey.

"Hey you." Glancing back over her shoulder, she watched for reaction in the noble's expression. "Your turn." A smirk of interest tugged at the corner of her mouth, just enough to hint it was there. Spinning her blade, blood whipped towards the nearest wall only granting the senate more horror.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Eversor AMCO Jyon Hlervu

Ion grenades rendered junk hulks inert. CryoBan shattered their joints. The Whiphid guns chugged a brisk rhythm. With casual ease, Velok and his hunting party took a hilltop that had once been sheet metal. The surroundings went quiet in relatively short order.

A seven-hundred-pound boar sniffed the air. <Spearmaster, we were promised a hunt.>

"This is what the Sith hunt, Th'uncc," Velok growled.

<The trophies? The feast? The challenge?>

Velok whirled on his longtime hunting companion and switched to their own language. <Would you beat a path straight to the feast?>

<Never.>

<Nor I. Come. This weak world has nothing worth the cost of ammunition.>

The Whiphids headed back to their ship.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective II: Aggressive Negotiations.
Location: Ringo Vinda Senate
Senna Valerian

Once upon a time, Joycelyn had revelled in being ignored, it had given her the freedom to do whatever she wanted. However, things change. Now, she had gotten quite used to the idea that her every word was a command to be heeded and respected, even among other Sith. So, perhaps somewhat petulantly, she carried on being cross, even though this woman did exactly what Joycelyn had intended to do.

At least it did not lessen her affinity with the dark side of the Force.

"A decent cut, but why start at the bottom of the chain?"

She looked at Senna as she threw her sabre. The blade spun and arced through the air, making sparks when it slashed through a chair and neck, then returned to her hand in the same arc. Two heads turned to find the one between them missing; a smouldering stump was all that remained.

The head rolled to the middle of the senate floor where Joycelyn stopped it with her foot as if it were a ball for kicking. She kicked it in the direction of Senna as an invitation to take her turn.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

Objective I: The Ring - Driveyard Sector 14B
Post: 2
Focus: General Gol'zan
Perspective: Wirm'nael'armiir

The blast doors hissed open and with it a wall of blaster bolts and disruptor shards filled the breach as ill prepared security personnel were dropped in the wake of the Commando's volley. A sentry post of sorts though from the disarray of the room's conditions ; these sentries were not expecting to put up a fight any time soon. Three...perhaps four blaster bolts marked the durasteel walls around them as they entered, peeling out to clear the room ; peeling the elite section of ten into two groups five.

Music blared from a holonet connected audio player even still as several of the security troopers died in positions of leisure and laze, face buried in holopads near set out cups of tea or other leisurely brews. These dry docks had gone untouched from any whisper of a threat in some time. Now here they were ; with the might of the crimson saber stabbing down over them.

In silence ; the commandos pressed on, slicing the next door ahead to expect another pathetic host of private security only to feel a surging presence of the Emperor's Spear. Dispatching the troopers like limp animals the Commandos were only able to dispatch three or four blaster bolts before soon enough they were at ease once more. The Lord Colonel's eyes widened beneath the visor of his 'Storm' pattern armor at the sight of Gol'Zan.

With a mission of this caliber - he hadn't anticipated the Emperor's own to come crashing down over the driveyards.

"Sir General..." The Chiss sounded out flatly, standing at attention before giving the foreboding man his salute.

"General Tavlar did not make me aware that Ringo Vinda required the presence of the Emperor's Spear." The Chiss remarked, taking up the grip of his blaster rifle once more.

 

[Tsyok]

Objective: I - The Ring
Location: Ringo Vinda Orbital Ring
Tags: Irveric Tavlar

His left hook smashed into an enemy's breastplate, caving it in and sending the wearer flying back into the far wall with a sickening crunch. His right hand, the hand that held his burning weapon, lashed out to sever limbs and send heads rolling across the durasteel deck. Any resistance they had encountered was purely reactionary, they had not been anticipating the Empire's rapid deployment and were thus wholly unprepared for what had come next. Hastily erected barricades were no match for the power of the Dark Side, and like the men that manned them, they had fallen. ​

​

Dispatching another malcontent, the Sith General turned to regard the smaller Chiss Lord Colonel that had linked up with his squad. He sniffed as if he smelt something dis-pleasurable, "Our Lord Emperor had placed great emphasis on this station's importance, Lord Colonel Wirm'nael'armiir. It is crucial that the station is cleaned of any who would make the Empire's occupation of this system inconvenient." He pressed the flat of his boot against the head of one of the fallen enemy soldiers, pressing down slowly until the skull fractured under the weight. Scarlet fluid oozed out across the floor, seeping into every nook and cranny around.​

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"If our war against the Jedi is to be successfully waged, we will need every resource and every advantage we can accumulate. Nothing can be left to chance."​

 

[Senna Valerian]

Objective II - Make the Politicians Sing
Location - Ringo Vinda Senate
Allies: Joycelyn Zambrano
Current Vibe: [x]
--

With the head tipped in her direction the woman caught it under her own foot, kicking it up and into hand as if she were playing with a ball. Eyes passed over it before returning to her royal majesty before her, a sly smile crossing her sharp features.

"You do have a point Joycelyn, why start at the bottom." No names had been exchanged, surely many knew the princess's name, though Senna's own name was likely a mystery to the noble before her, with head in hand she launched it towards their friendly head honcho, the disembodied coworker slamming into his chest with a thud to knock the wind from his lungs. Within but a moment the woman was before him with her blade in grasp; not even enough time for the man to blink.

"Be a dear and say hello to your friends in the void." Without warning the blade ripped across both his stomach and another besides him, their innards spilling in the last moments of life as they desperately tried to keep wounds closed. Turning back to her partner in crime the man reached for Senna's back only to slump forward onto the floor.

"Still two others, what should we do with them?"

 

[Kolson Vrask]

Objective I: The Ring - Driveyard Sector 14B​

Post: 3​

Focus: General Gol'zan​

​

The unease the Sith General brought over the room soon faded in Wirm's senses, overpowered by the stoic focus of the Chiss. The rhetoric spoke by Gol'zan was peculiar. It seemed far more automaton than any exchange he'd had with any other Imperial military officer. Perhaps it might've very well be the closeness to the Emperor himself that Gol'zan favored zeal in spades over pragmatism. Rarely was direct reference to the Lord Empire uttered amongst the officers among the command of the Twelfth Armored Assault or the initial training runs between Wirm and his Purge Commandos which had all but schism'd to form a seperate entity from the armor and mobile doctrine favored by his direct superior.

"Understood, General Gol'zan. I've a section of commandos at your disposal. What little resistance we've met has been a pathetic showing at best. These sentries were ill prepared for petty smuggles nevertheless our combined force." The Chiss remarked, rolling his shoulders in the heavily modified 'Storm' armor he donned, a prototype for a new pattern still in dogged development as his demands from the corps of technicians grew ever greater with each completed simulation or mission.