Populate Assault on Adras || Populate of Adras Hex

[Aspect of Defiance]

The planet Adras, a remote and desolate world on the Outer Rim, had long been known as a site of high-security detention facilities, housing some of the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals. The planet’s harsh environment, combined with the state of the art technological surveillance systems, made it an ideal location for a prison complex designed to hold insurrectionists, pirates, and war criminals. The brutality of Adras’s prison system had turned the inmates into hardened rebels, and tensions between the prisoners and their captors had been simmering for years. It was only a matter of time before something would break. That something came in the form of a riot that would forever change the balance of power on the planet.

The riot began with a simple, seemingly innocuous event. The transfer of a high-profile inmate from one facility to another. This inmate,a notorious former rebel leader, had once been a symbol of resistance. His capture was a devastating blow to the movement, but his time in the prison had not broken his spirit. The routine transfer served as a spark that lit the fuse of pent-up anger and resentment among the prisoners. Word spread quickly that Joran Sorr was being moved, and whispers of revolt began circulating in the dark corners of the prison.

Inside the prison’s towering walls, the atmosphere had been tense for weeks, with food rations running low and guards becoming increasingly harsh in their treatment of the inmates. The prisoners had been preparing for a moment like this, a moment where they could seize control and force the warden to acknowledge their strength. Sorr’s arrival was the signal for action, as he was the key to rallying the fractured factions within the prison’s population. The planned revolt quickly erupted into chaos as cell blocks were overrun, weapons were seized, and the sound of blaster fire echoed through the hallways.

The guards scrambled to regain control of the prison, but Adras was no ordinary detention facility. It’s isolation meant that help would not arrive quickly. The prisoners, led by a mix of seasoned criminals, former soldiers, and idealistic rebels, had turned the tables, creating an environment of complete anarchy. As Sorr made his way through the prison, a figurehead for the insurgency, the riot spread like wildfire, with each new battle pushing the guards further back into the fortified command center.

Outside the prison’s walls, the majority galaxy remained oblivious to the growing crisis on Adras. However, as word of the riot spread, the Sith Order took notice. Gerwald Lechner saw it as an opportunity to continue his expansion eastward from Seswenna take the facility for the Tsis’Kaar and many of the Order’s high value prisoners. The Completed Second Legion was mobilized quickly as word was sent to the rest of the Dark Council of the Dread Wolf’s intent to do as Empyrean instructed on Echnos.

Prisoners have overrun the prison yard and have executed the guards controlling the perimeter, watchtowers, and gates. Patrols have been established, and the armories designed to provide for the defense of external assaults and threats against the detention facility have been seized. Eliminate all threats. Take back the gates. Open up the prison for the main wave of forces.

The warden has been killed, and a handful of guards are holding out in the main command and control center of the detention center. It is near impregnable, but not without its weaknesses. A shield separates the main yard from the main command towers. An infiltration team has been sent to control and defend the command center, allowing for the rest of the Sith Order’s forces to deal with the remainder of the mob inside the prison. If the command tower falls into the prisoner’s hands the shield will collapse and the prisoners contained by the wall will overrun the forces on the other side.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Úlfs Reiði
TAG: Open

Gerwald Lechner's dropship descended toward Adras, the planet's surface illuminated by a pale, coppery sun. The ship's matte black hull shimmered faintly under the hazy atmosphere, its sharp, angular design exuding a mix of functionality and menace. Twin thrusters roared, their blue plasma trails carving through the dense, reddish-brown clouds, leaving faint eddies in the air.

As the dropship approached the ground, its retractable landing struts extended, hydraulics hissing and venting steam. The barren landscape below was an endless expanse of cracked ochre earth, dotted with jagged rocks and faintly glowing fungal growths. In the distance, jagged peaks pierced the horizon, veiled by swirling mists that hinted at Adras' weather patterns.

The dropship door opened revealing the Dread Wolf as he was dressed head to toe in his battle armor, its gleaming metal components a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings. Around him, crates of supplies and equipment sat neatly secured. The airlock hissed open, and a gust of hot, acrid wind swept inside, carrying the metallic tang of the planet’s atmosphere.

Gerwald stepped out, his boots crunching against the dry, brittle surface. The prison was under siege by those on the inside, and the Dread Wolf would lead the ground swell as shadowy agents took control of the command center within. Both battles were necessary, both were needed. His blue eyes scanned the soldiers which had followed him off the ship. Many of them were new to battle, but the Dread Wolf had ensured they were battle ready.

He turned to address them.

“No Mercy. No Surrender. Only victory and glory!”

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Prisons were some of Nefaron's favorite places.

Thousands of subjects, confined and separated?

A man of science couldn't ask for more.
​

It had been some time since Nefaron had gotten his hands dirty, at least outside of his laboratory. He elected to join the infiltration team, leaving his Corpse Legion behind to operate as a "team" with those who had also elected to take a more subtle approach. In truth, he cared little if the Sith brought the planet into the Empire, aside from the prison there was little to be gained by wasting resources on this pathetic rock. But Nefaron would not pass up an opportunity to experiment on some of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy, aiding the Second Legion and the greater Empire was simply an added bonus.

As the battle for the prison gates began, it was obvious that going in the front door wasn't an option. What was an option was the prison's vast network of sewers that seemed rather daunting to navigate, but the force was a rather helpful tool in that regard. Normally these disgusting tunnels would also have been guarded as the most obvious route of escape, but with the prison in utter chaos, the only thing that was of any concern was the few brave souls who had broken away from the riot in search of a quick escape. Nefaron was just finishing up with one such poor soul who had the misfortune of stumbling into the Corpse Lord's path. It didn't take long to dispatch with him, though Nefaron could not resist the temptation to employ his toxin gauntlet. The prisoner, throat grasped tight by the Sith, watched in terror as several needles pierced his skin and toxin entered his bloodstream. It didn't take long for the man to collapse under the weight of his greatest fears come to life, not helped by the walking corpse standing over him, the dark glee the Sith reveled in as the man quickly expired, his weakened heart simply giving out from terror.

"Unfortunate. I thought he would last a few minutes longer."

It was as if the Sith was making a note to himself of the toxin's effects, before returning his focus to the task at hand.

"There will be more where he came from. It's unfortunate there is so little time for a thorough autopsy, but my curiosity can wait until we have regained control of the facility. Let us hope that the rest of these fools are so easily dealt with."

TAGS: Open​

 

[Mother Askani]

- A D R A S -

​

The stars whispered their warnings in the silence before descent. Adras loomed in the viewport, a blighted orb choking on its own misery. The prison world was alive with unrest, its pain rippling through the Force like a scream in the void. She stared into the abyss of empyreal storms coiling around its surface, and for a fleeting moment, the galaxy felt impossibly heavy.

No one was coming to aid Adras—not the Galactic Alliance, not the Jedi, not the scattered rebellions struggling to survive.

Except us - the Path.

Not with hope. Not with promises of victory. But with the single truth that sometimes the fight matters more than the fighters.

"Signal's clean," Dael said from the pilot's seat, though his voice carried no confidence. His fingers hovered over the controls like a gambler afraid of the dice.

Behind me, Tovan Vrel secured his weapon, the soft metallic click echoing through the cramped hold. "What's the plan if we get burned before we even touch down?"

She didn't even turn to him. "We won't. We can't afford to."

In truth, she didn't believe that. Adras was a death trap, its surface scarred by industry and its air poisoned by despair. Thousands of prisoners had taken up arms, knowing full well it would end in their blood staining the cracked surface. And here we were, a team of four, tasked with doing the impossible: turning chaos into resistance.

The freighter jolted as Dael punched through Adras's atmosphere, turbulence slamming us against our restraints. Lightning clawed at the ship, bright and violent, illuminating the jagged terrain below. The mountain range surrounding the prison cut through the mist like blackened teeth.

"Scanners are pinging hard," Dael muttered, his voice cracking under pressure. "Cloak's holding—for now."

Selya Rin, seated across from her, tightened her grip on her staff. Her eyes were closed, her breath steady, but Askani could feel the strain radiating from her. The Force here was thick with anger and dread, seeping into every thought.

The freighter screamed as we skimmed low over the mountain peaks, threading through the cracks in the Sith's planetary surveillance. The prison lights burned ahead, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the ash-laden storms like a predator's gaze. Dael finally touched us down in a narrow gorge, hidden beneath the jagged cliffs.

The moment the hatch hissed open, the air hit us—thick, reeking of industry. The wind howled through the gorge like the wail of dying stars. She stepped into the storm, her cloak whipping around me, and felt the ground vibrate beneath her boots. Selya knelt in the dirt, her hand brushing the ground. Her face was pale, her voice low. "The fear here is… consuming. They've been torturing these people for- the darkness is almost alive."

"Then you'll have to cut through it," the older woman said. "All of us will. We have no time to falter."

The plan was insanity, even by Hidden Path standards. The prisoners had risen up with minimal coordination, without weapons, without lasting hope. Their numbers were all they had, and the Sith were already slated to begin thinning those. Somewhere in the chaos, we had to find the revolt's leaders—if they were even alive—and turn their desperation into strategy.

"We get in, we locate the leaders, and we pull them out," she said, her voice low but firm as we huddled behind the freighter. "No heroics. No unnecessary risks. We're not here to win a battle. We're here to make sure the fight survives." spoken with much experience.

"And if the leaders are dead?" Tovan asked bluntly.

She didn't hesitate. "Then we make them believe in another."

---​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

​

It was a stagnant room, metallic and rocky in colour with hardly much more to provide it texture or interest. It was the very picture of a prison facility, boring and liable to send someone spiralling off a cliff if they spent too much time within. Today, however, would be different, the room was one of the few to escape the ravages of the riot that had broken across the rest of the prison, instead... The fog arose out from the grates below the room's floor, it was more akin to smoke, smog, than anything else, viscous and heavy on the tongue, the cameras within the room, with their lenses scanning robotically, zooming ever further into the cloud could hardly make out much of anything, as it continued to rise ever further up to the closed ceiling vents.

They could hardly make out much of anything apart from the flashes of light that broke across the limited gaps between. Figures, ghostly spectres existed within the depths of the unseen, shadows were clutching their throats as they collapsed onto their knees, soon after upon their heads, all the while elsewhere, swift movements precipitated the collapse of others, fists flying in rapid motions, striking limbs and skulls, as ever more fell.

Where light and visibility failed, it was the sense of noise which provided appointment with the truth, yet, that truth was hardly one wished to hear. Coughs and gagging filled the drums of masked individuals, wraiths in their identity, in their purpose, they were emotionless, as those prisoners lured into the room who had resisted the knockout gas so far, were quickly dispatched, mercifully knocked unconscious when any others in the Order would have little reservation of shedding blood.

They did not either, yet, today was different.

He weaved in between bodies, a silent countdown in his mind as he breathed in through his mask thankfully filtered out air.

Three.

The fist weakly thrown was dodged out of the way, an ironfisted punch to the stomach throwing the struggling man against the wall, sliding down before collapsing in a heap.

Two.

The knife was caught by the wrist, with an agonising scream that did not make it out the walls, as the prisoner's jaw widened like a lion's maw, their weapon clattering onto the ground, their hand broken at an unnatural angle, as he collapsed beneath his feat.

One.

Malum's vision cleared, the clarity of combat fading as gazed around his environs, all of the prisoners were neutralised, most of them non-lethally as far as he could tell. It had been one of his orders, one that he knew quite well would not be the most popular, yet, his principles stood, whatever they might have been, these prisoners had been found guilty already, and imprisoned, such was their sentence, he would not grant them death.

Not yet.

The fog began clearing, as the ceiling vents opened, "Status report?" The masked Sith Lord called, turning to his Tsis'Kaar young and old alike, the door forwards awaited.

Kaila Irons Tamsin Graves Allyson Locke Khamesi Aivar

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Tags: TBD
​

The dim amber light of the prison sewer reflected off Assimilus's metallic form, his outline blurred by the mists of moisture and decay. His optics glowed faintly, casting sharp shadows across the slick, stained walls. He moved without heavy sounds, his presence mechanical and predatory, a piece of living hardware stalking through the organic filth. When he came upon Darth Nefaron, looming over the broken corpse of his latest experiment, Assimilus stopped, the silence stretching in eerie contrast to the previous carnage. The faint hum of his servos was the only noise that dared challenge the oppressive quiet.

He regarded Darth Nefaron and his handiwork, head tilting slightly in a motion not unlike a machine calibrating its sensors. The corpse was splayed grotesquely, veins swollen and blackened by toxins, terror etched into the twisted angles of the prisoner's lifeless face. Assimilus's voice emerged from a modulated depth, dissonant and cold, like a signal routed through corrupted software. Strangely it was the voice of a child.

"Unfortunate indeed."

He stepped forward, his towering frame catching the dim light, his eyes scanning Nefaron with an unreadable flicker of crimson photoreceptors. He then began walking with the so called Corpse Lord. "One corpse here, one corpse there. A tally of lives lost and potential squandered. A crude equation yielding diminishing returns. Data terminated before its prime. A redundant loop of destruction. You kill them, but what do you truly harvest? Screams? Suffering? Emotional ephemera. Weak currencies." He added.

 

[Nouqai Veil]

“I SAID-“ The words were enunciated loud and clear in a feminine voice reverberating down the prison corridors. “DO NOT TOUCH THE FUCKING TENTACLES!” The next words came near a scream, filled with sheer exasperated, followed by the sound of an ugly crash of a body flung across the hall.

The sith apprentice had held well on her own, but there was something with these prisoners that told them it was a good idea to grab on to her hair. Each tendril was built of pure muscle, but also nerves, that made it particularly uncomfortable to touch that was unwelcome. Of course, they would learn the hard way.

This prison had a remarkable security for the networks, rendering even her incapable of slicing through into the control system despite CTOii designed by Mariah of House Marr and Helix themselves - at least remotely. She needed to get into the control tower where she could access the surveillance and security of the place.

But she was not the only one with that in mind. Many prisoners already flooding in the direction. Through the comms she heard Darth Malum of House Marr . “Master, the prisoners are heading for the control tower. I could use some assistance on this.”