Populate Assault on Adras || Populate of Adras Hex

[DizzyBot]

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 Darth Tormenta

 

[Dr. Xris]

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.

 

[Lady Falentra]

“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.”

 

[Kaila Irons]

Darth Malum of House Marr Tamsin Graves

Not so very long ago she had been something akin to these men, a prisoner toiling away endlessly for a sith lord far away. Digging up ancient relics and not so ancient traitors was her labor, the dreary Kainate her prison and Darth Carnifex her warden.

But now she was here, one of several figures hunting amidst the fog.

High Inquisitor Anathemous of the Tsis'kaar moved like a newborn serpent. The calculated efficiency of each step was subtle, every duck and weave around pointed knives or blind shot seemed graceful and practiced in it's alarming speed. And yet it belied the violent truth; just like the fresh serpent, she had no control over her lethal venom.

It was all instinctual, most self taught and honed in outer rim cantinas and dark alleys.

The former Seeker of the Kainite archives brought the experience of her lonesome career down upon the rebels with surprising force, her Laminanium bones adding an unseen weight behind her strength that looked almost unnatural for one so lithe as she. Bones were broken with sickening ease.

But as she struck on instinct against a large Zabrak who still stood despite her blows, Darth Anathemous would prove the words of Ansisa right. Subtlety was not the former Kainite's specialty, and it showed in her difficulty disabling foes rather than outright killing them. Her instinctual clothes lining of the Zabrak against her Beskar gauntlet had, whether she realized it in the moment or not in that split second, been designed to kill. It left him a gurgling mess on the floor as the fog began to subside.

"Status report?" The masked Sith Lord called

Anathemous stared down at her messy handiwork, chest heaving as she watched the target's own breathing cease.

"Karablast." she cursed under her breath before turning away, suspecting that the Lord Inquisitor would not be pleased.

She needed this to work. She refused to go back to the Kainate for anything short of The Emperor's personal orders, and Lord Malum had given her the escape she needed. She wasn't just here to climb the ladder away from her master now, she was here to prove herself worthy of freedom.

"Three incapacitated on this side, my lord."

she said whilst rubbing the back of her gloved fist.

"...one dead."

Her new war skirt swayed with each bouncing step as she caught up with Malum, her new armor making her look almost as if she belonged at a dark councilor's side, despite the young sorceress feeling so out of place among the assassins.

The thought caused Anathemous to clasp her hands behind her back, assuming a more "official" pose to hide what anxieties her mask could not.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

​

"That is where we disagree, my friend."

​

The term friend was being used a bit loosely considering there were no true friendships amongst the Sith. However, the mechanical monstrosity that accompanied Nefaron through the decaying sewers made a few good points. The Corpse Lord did not seek a dead galaxy, but until a perfect formula for his fear toxin could be achieved many would have to perish for the sake of science.

"I seek to liberate their minds, free them of crushing sanity by way of fear. Fear is the root of our vast power, the Dark Side itself is born of it. I seek to share my revelation with the galaxy, but most beings are... unreceptive."

A chuckle accompanied the Sith's words, though he doubted his companion experienced joy like he did. Regardless, the pair pressed on down the tunnel, the only illumination being weak lights scattered along the path. They were deep beneath the prison complex, but even here the slight rumble of distant explosions could be felt as the main assault began. They were in no rush, there were plenty of soon-to-be corpses to slow the advance of the Second Legion.

"It seems we are right on schedule. We should be nearing a turbolift, though I suspect the inmates are prepared to defend it."

As if on cue, fresh illumination could be seen at the end of the tunnel. A group of about five inmates, armed with rudimentary blasters and various melee weapons were advancing, though they seemed to be unaware of the Sith infiltrators. Perhaps they were in search of their lost friend who lay expired at the hands of the Coprse Lord? Regardless, Nefaron was pleased to have more test subjects. But these fools would not fall to his toxin, instead, he thought it only fair to provide the cybernetic Sith with a bit of fun.

"They are unaware of our presence. Perhaps you would like to greet them? I am rather interested to see your capabilities."

TAGS: Dr. Xris , Open ​

 

[Tamsin Graves]

Theme: Black Betty
Equipment: GL-13 blaster | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Inquisitorial Saber
Tags: Kaila Irons | Darth Malum of House Marr

Heavy breathing nearly fogged the mask she was wearing, her large dark eyes stared forward into the fog created by the gas. She could feel Kaila ahead of her and she could just sense the others moving forward. She didn't move, not right away she didn't know what to do, I mean she knew her job but she didn't know the best way to execute it. She didn't want to step on anyone else's toes knowing she was the least skilled of anyone else in the area. Though this was her first riot that aspect of it didn't cause her fear, her fear was in making the wrong move. The riot itself, the chaos of it made her feel oddly comforted.

It was a strange concoction of emotions flooding through Tamsin as she stood there not sure what her first move should be. Should she ignite her saber or pull her blaster she wasn't sure what to do. Maybe she shouldn't do either of those things, maybe she should just wait but then she would look like an idiot just standing there.

Finally she took a few steps forward but they were cautious as she still wasn't sure what to do. Her visor became fogged over as her heavy breathing continued. Right arm out, hand up. palm out of some sort of pure instinct a telekinetic push forced out of her palm and slammed into an approaching figure. The man went flying across the room slamming into a wall then hit the floor unconscious. Then Tamsin spun on her heel pulling her knife free from her belt and flung it behind her. The knife flew into the thigh of another approaching figure.

The figure stumbled back, howling at the damage caused by the knife in his thigh. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound in his leg and as he staggered back, he tripped over some debris and fell to the ground.

"Two down….." She said it a little too soon as the one with the knife in his leg pulled the knife out and scrambled to his feet. Then started to lumber for Tamsin with her own knife. "Make that one….ah." She side stepped just in time as the man took a wild swing at her but it was telegraphed enough she could step out of the way off it. The wound in the prisoner's leg and the gas in the room really slowed him down. He came back with another wild back swing at her, but her short stature allowed her to duck under it. Then again on instinct she balled up her fist and aimed right for his groin.

The hit connected and he dropped like a sack full of rocks crumpling to the ground dropping her knife causing it to clang across the ground. "Make that two, I'm sure now…erm uh Lord." Her breath even heavier now and she couldn't even see out of the visor of her mask but there was a faint orange glow coming from her eyes slowly fading away as the fight ended. She then moved to go pick up her knife.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

​

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Khamesi's form was stark against many of the other Tsis'kaar around her. Tall, heavy, and usually clad in equally heavy armor, an assassin rarely came to mind when one viewed her. To be fair, it wasn't inaccurate. She was no assassin, directly. She was a warrior, a living conduit of hate and destruction, unleashed like a tidal wave on her foes. No, it was the before and after that made her an asset among the Tsis'kaar. Once she joined a battle she was power, and rage, moving almost indscriminately against any foe before her. Almost. No, it was how she played the game of war, money, and politics between the fights that made her truly dangerous, someone to watch and someone good to have as an ally. She knew that Darth Malum of House Marr resented or perhaps even hated her, but he also knew her to be an asset. One that could not be discarded on whims as much as a personal grudge. Despite her own problems with the brat, she respected this, which is why she was here at all. That, and it'd been far to long since she had last had a chance to get her hands dirty.

As it turned out. Managing disconeccted pirate fleets, a major company, and a shadow intel network weaved thorugh the outer rim took quite a bit of time. Luckily, she'd slowly been finding competent and loyal people to delegate to. Plus, she needed to get out more often. One could hardly call her Darth anymore if she didn't remind people why she had taken the title.

Another body dropped before her as her thoughts were drawn from within back to the task at hand. Another broken spine and crushed throat before he could shout. Another fool dead or dying at her feet. This was hardly the spectacle she craved, but she knew to bide her time for now. She picked up the scavenged equipment he had been using to try and get through, crushing it to scrap and dropping it without a thought. The fools were dying quickly. That left the true threats.

"We must pick up the pace. The foolhardy ones are dying quickly, but that leaves the actually comptent threats still working."

That was all she had to say for Malum's little status update. He could trust she would be doing something useful, but he did not yet truly command her, and likely, never would. Not in her eyes at least. She was a Pirate Queen, few could truly command her. Fewer still could do it without her having given her service to them first. She moved on, the bear among the wolves, still hunting. She could not take the smaller, quieter paths, so she was sure the idiots would be coming to her instead. There they would meet the icy embrace of death. Cold, not just of the dark side but true, freezing cold cloaked her every step, heralding her arrival, and leaving the paths she had tread covered in dew or frost. She Wanted them to track her. Then she could kill them while the others hunted for the rest.

Tags : Darth Malum of House Marr , Tamsin Graves , Darth Nefaron , Kaila Irons

 

[Markus Drex]

"Urielle, can you give me an update on the situation?"

A crackle in her comlink makes me hear, a small female voice responds to explain the situation I'm in.

"So, how can I explain..."
"Get to the point."
"Roger! You're currently in the heart of the prison, on the planet Adras. We know that a prisoner was due to be transferred and that's what set things off, for them this prisoner is a legend."
"What's the status of the transfer?"
"I don't know sorry, but all you need to do is get out of this mess. I'm also picking up some other very strange signatures, I'd advise you to be careful you're not alone in the area. We'll meet at the extraction point when your mission is over."
"Roger, thank you Ur, say can you send me the map? It might come in handy."
"Here's the plan of the prison building."

I look at my own updated plan and let out a sigh at the task ahead. I look through one of the prison corridors, tilting my head slightly to examine the situation, it's the case that inside the inmates are fighting with the guards, it would seem that the Sith order has also decided to join the party.

What's for sure is that I shouldn't stay here, I'd better get moving before others come down on me, with a confident step I advance into the corridor, a prisoner starts charging at me, he throws a front punch, I duck to dodge it and come up with an uppercut with the aim of knocking him out by tapping him under the chin. I look down at the prisoner on the ground and sigh.

This is a high-risk operation, enemies can come from anywhere. I'm no more allied with the siths than the prisoners or the guards. Therefore I must be careful and follow Urielle's communications, so she can guide me intelligently through this prison. As far as I'm concerned, they're all guilty, the criminals, the guards, all part of the same system. They must all be punished.

I intend to clean up and have a bit of fun at the expense of the armed forces, so I can see how the prison works, and the prison system as a whole. The black coat is out for the occasion, and I'm wearing my usual outfit when I'm out in the field.

As for my weapons, I've got my blaster and my lightsaber as well as my utility belt, so I'm ready to break some heads. I've also got a handy little hacking tool.

Tag : Open
Tool : Light saber | Blaster | Belt utilitary | hacking tool

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

​

This was not his Tsis'Kaar, that much was obvious. But he supposed, it had never been his Tsis'Kaar, an organisation inherited from a woman that he had killed, that had been threatened with destruction by the rest of the Order, and then decimated under his own direction such that it would be loyal to him, only then had it been allowed to rebuild. This Tsis'Kaar was only the latest of the precepts his mistress had laid out, the constant need for evolution. Complications, strangers, and irritants walked in his ranks now, the Tsis'Kaar had to become beyond the dark shadow it cast upon the rest of the Order.

It had to overtake it entirely.

It would only be a question of if all these changes would give him what he wanted. The mask exposed its side turning to face the three in his line of sight, so very different, and they were not the only ones, the voice in his earcomm more than enough indication, while others infiltrated the facility from different directions.

Khamesi was the first to try to move past him, he offered no resistance. He had not seen her since their trial, busy off with her pirates or whatever else, yet, when the call had come, she had answered, and already she was proving herself as difficult as he knew her to be.

"Aivar," A tone that demanded an ear, as the last of the gas filtered out of the room, "An inability to follow orders, much worse an inability to reach my expectations, can only be allowed for so long," His voice was as cold as the very weapons she used to wage war, "Get on with it then, draw their attention away from the shield, we will review your performance once this is over," He raised a hand in dismissal, knowing it was a delicate tightrope walk with her, one he was far from certain he would succeed in, yet, that left the far more agreeable of the contingent.

However, they represented their own concerns.

The apprentice was panting, either unused to these kinds of operations or the battle taken more out of her than expected, he would not know, she was the other's apprentice after all. All the while speaking of her, she stood proud, and at attention, apart from Aivar, the only one to have a permanent casualty.

Yet, evident enough a mistake.

One of them the apprentice to Kaine, the other a Kainite by association, even despite all that had come about that meeting at Echnos, that he willingly allowed them into his ranks still felt strange. Yet, for all he wanted, much more strange would have to come about.

"Noted," He accepted, turning to his wristcomm, "Sector 3F send in the second wave to secure captured prisoners and deceased biometrics," Masked eyes turned back to them, "Cloaks on, Lord Lechner is outside the entrance, we best secure the route and relieve the command centre," He spoke, within a second, fading away from view, all apart from the devices that linked a vague signal to each of them.

Advancing forward, one of the entrances of the main control towers awaited, it promised to hold many of the prisoners outside it, undergoing their makeshift siege preparations. To bypass, or incapacitate them was their charge.

"Hold them off Falentra, should they break through, we will arrive soon."

Kaila Irons Tamsin Graves Darth Tormenta Lady Falentra Allyson Locke

 

[Darth Tormenta]

​

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Khamesi halted in her tracks as Malum tried to chastise her for her actions. The ambient temperature notably dropped as she turned, and glowered at the much smaller man. He wanted to chastise her, and talk about performance, than she'd respond. She took no threat idly, not even such a veiled one.

"Malum. You know better than most that I do the things I do for a reason, not just for bloodlust. Typically, I do not waste my time trying to explain to those that can't follow my actions, but I'll give you the short version here."

She slammed her fist into the wal, causing cracks to spiral out from where her fist impacted, some bigger than others.

"You failed to grasp the simplest version of this technique, the only part that could be taught, but follow along. He is the center, from him the cracks are different events he could cause. The bigger cracks are more likely. In many of these paths, someone as clever or connected as he, to get his hands on tools not just weapons, represented a threat of another breakout. Including more than one chance of it being worse than this one."

Her claws traced the cracks as she spoke. Until suddenly all the cracks began to fill with ice, making the wall relatively flat once more.

"I deemed that allowing him to live with the experience of this escape attempt behind him to be a risk we didn't need to leave on the table. One life to prevent more deaths, loss of equipment, and loss of face to any that learn of it. That is why I killed him. Do not make the mistake of my old Master and think of me as nothing more than a mindless beast to aim at ones foes. I may not be cautious, but neither do I do something just to kill or break something."

If Malum wished to try and dress her down in front of so many others, she would respond in kind. Was it all true when she had killed him? Not entirely, mostly she had just been testing Malum's orders, but neither was she lying. She just didn't mention that even the most likely paths had him rotting in prison for the rest of his life. Mostly, the chances were true, she had not lied once in her little response, but she did withhold information. She was under no obligation to tell him more. She had never gave her word or her oath to Malum, he was lucky she had bothered to show up at all.

With that, she turned and began moving again. She would find the ones that could actually pose a threat to this little band of infiltrators and keep them busy, and afraid. Maybe then Malum's goals would succeed without to much of a hitch.

Kaila Irons Darth Malum of House Marr Lady Falentra Allyson Locke

 

[Dr. Xris]

Tags: Darth Nefaron
​

As Nefaron gestured toward the advancing prisoners, Assimilus’s gaze shifted to them, scanning their movements with a detached calculation. Primitive weapons. Erratic heartbeats. The uncoordinated steps of desperation. Data streams flooded his awareness, and in that instant, he knew them better than they knew themselves.

"Observe," he said, his tone carrying the cold finality of a command.

Assimilus stepped forward, his towering frame gliding into the faint glow of the inmates' flickering torches. The prisoners froze at the sight of him, their muttered curses silenced by the sudden presence of something alien and utterly monstrous in build. He raised his head slightly, the plating of his lower jaw retracting with a series of clicks and hisses. What looked like a deep, mechanical maw opened wide, releasing a slow, hissing exhale. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a cloud of gas spreading into the air. But it was no mere vapor—it was a swarm of nanotechnology, millions of microscopic machines moving as one, shimmering faintly as they caught the dim light.

The prisoners’ screams began as the first tendrils of the swarm touched their skin. Pain lanced through their bodies in bursts of unbearable intensity, overwhelming their nervous systems, cleansing their bodies of disease and poisons. They dropped their weapons, clutching at themselves as they writhed and collapsed to the ground one by one, their agony short-lived as unconsciousness claimed them.

Assimilus stood over them, his optics glowing as he observed their bodies. The nanites did their work with surgical precision, spreading through veins, synapses, and muscle fibers. Mechanical tendrils emerged from beneath their skin, forming cybernetic plating over critical areas. One prisoner’s ruined arm was swiftly replaced with a sleek, multi-jointed appendage of alloy and circuitry. Another’s eyes, once bloodshot and wide with fear, now gleamed faintly with the same crimson glow as Assimilus’s photorecptors. Within moments, their bodies lay still—half flesh, half machine.

But their free will remained untouched. They were not Assimilus’s puppets. They were something else entirely: a hybrid of organic resilience and technological perfection. They were now liberated from the binds of the flesh and its lesser limitations. From the chemicals and hormones of their biologizes. All would be under their control now.

"Their evolution begins now," Assimilus intoned, his child-like voice calm but charged with purpose. He turned his gaze back to Nefaron, his tone carrying the sharpness of a rebuke.

" This—" he gestured to the altered bodies before them, "—is the future. A union of flesh and machine. Ever evolving. Loyal not out of fear, but because they see the superiority of what they can further become. The very concept of liberation eludes you."

He stepped back, the swarm retracting into the depths of his mechanical form, leaving only silence and the faint hum of his systems.

"These beings can now choose to serve the Empire, not as corpses or mindless drones, but as something far greater. The process will refine itself in time. If you truly wish to understand power, abandon your poisons. Embrace the coming evolution."

Assimilus turned away, the sound of his servos echoing through the tunnel as he moved toward the turbolift.

" Their transformation will complete itself. And when they wake, some will choose to follow. Others will not. Either way evolution will have its way. And for your sake Nefaron, I do hope your concoctions aid you against them. I think you will find their resolve to be far more...." He paused and the sound of servos in his body hummed louder. "Superior than before." His hand motioned to the turbolift and a spot beside himself, reserved for the Corpse Lord. " Shall we continue?" he inquired.

 

[Mother Askani]

- A D R A S -

​

The trek to the outer perimeter was merciless. The jagged rocks tore at our boots, and the ash-laden winds clawed at our faces. Every step was accompanied by the distant echo of blaster fire and the screams of the injured.

The ridge overlooking the prison complex was a jagged scar in Adras's shattered surface, its edges razor-sharp against the crimson hue of the storm-choked sky. Below, the yard was chaos incarnate: prisoners, many unarmed or wielding improvised weapons, surged like waves against the disciplined ranks of Sith troopers. The crack of blaster fire echoed through the canyons, punctuated by screams of pain and the low thunder of the storm.

Mother Askani knelt on the edge of the ridge, her dark cloak billowing around her. The Hidden Path operatives stood at her back, tense and waiting

Beyond it all, a tower loomed in the center of the complex, its spire a beacon of dominance.

"That is where they'll be," She said, pointing to the tower. Or at least gunning for.

She turned to face them, her eyes like iron. "Dael, secure the ship. Be ready for extraction the moment we signal."

Dael hesitated, his brow furrowing. "You're sending me back? Shouldn't I—"

"Don't question me," Askani snapped, her tone as sharp as a blade. "If we fail here, you're our only way out. Without that ship, we're as good as dead. Hold position, keep it running, and if we don't come back…" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "You get the intel off-world. Understood?"

Dael's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Understood."

Askani turned to the others. "Tovan, the south flank is vulnerable. The droids are pressing hard, and the resistance there is falling apart. Rally them. Use whatever you can find—lead them, lie to them, push them. Hold that line as long as possible."

Tovan gave a grim nod, his hand gripping his rifle tighter.

Her gaze landed on Selya, the youngest of the group. The fear was plain on her face, but Askani didn't soften. "The west side needs a medic. The injured are piling up, and they're losing fighters faster than they can stand. Patch up who you can, keep them breathing, and push whomever else is able back into the fight."

Selya swallowed hard but nodded.

Askani straightened, her cloak whipping around her as she glanced toward the prison spire at the center of the complex. It loomed over the battlefield, blackened and foreboding, like a dagger stabbed into the planet's heart. "I'm going for Joran Sorr," she said, her voice flat and final.

Tovan frowned, his tone edged with concern. "You're going in alone?"

"Yes," Askani said. "A team would slow me down. Your job is to give me time and keep the Sith off my back."

"And if you don't make it back?" Tovan asked, the question hanging heavy in the air.

"I will," she replied, turning toward the descending path into the chaos. "And if I don't, you'll never have to worry about it."

"For Tomorrow's Victory." Without another word, she vanished into the storm, a shadow swallowed by the roiling dark.

Askani moved through the chaos like a specter, her presence a whisper among the screams. She clung to the shadows, every step deliberate.

---​

 

[Markus Drex]

The corridor is dark and austere; this is a high-security prison. Despite this, there's complete chaos in the corridors. On my utility belt hangs my lightsaber. In one swift movement, I grasp the handle of my lightsaber, holding it in my right hand. I press the activation button. A pink blade lights up in the dark corridor, drawing the gaze of all the prisoners in its direction.

I start walking down the corridor, using my number 2 fighting form, makashi, and with elegant steps, the first lightsaber blows fall one after the other on the prisoners, dismembering or decapitating them.

As I make my way around the corner, a rain of blood and screaming can be heard and felt. I decided to bring out the heavy artillery right from the start before making my way through the mess. I advance with class and refinement. These poor prisoners don't stand a chance. My aim is to reach the command center at the heart of the prison and get out of this mess.

My pink blade is not very discreet. I arrive at the corridor intersection, turn right and continue on my way peacefully. Behind me, there are a number of corpses, and they should thank me for helping to clear some space in the prison.

The Sith Order is also not far from my position, as I can feel their presence with the force and I think they must sense mine too. I'm heading for those famous signatures Urielle told me about earlier, as our objective can't be that far away.

Should I make them my allies? Or will they see me as a nuisance and try to eliminate me? I slice one of the prisoners in half with a vertical sabre stroke without the slightest hindrance.

Tag : Open
Tool : Light saber | Blaster | Belt utilitary | hacking tool

 

[Kaila Irons]

Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Tormenta | Tamsin Graves | Lady Falentra ​

Initially, Darth Anathemous was, as she had ever been, focused on the mission. The Lord Inquisitor's orders seemed perfectly logical to her, even if inconvenient. Information was power after all, and it was incredibly difficult to get information out of the dead, at least when one couldn't bind spirits as the young Spellsword could.

She had every intention of pursuing the objective whether she had been adequately prepared or not, Because she was a soldier. And that evidently set her apart from the ambitious snakes which Malum had surrounded himself with. Perhaps that is why she had been chosen to lead men and women of The Inquisition?

And that is why, to hear Darth Tormenta speak to a Dark Councilor in such a way, grated upon the inquisitor's ears.

Her observant glare from over her shoulder and behind the thin red slit of a visor was already taking measure of the overgrown Cathar. A brute and a cryomancer it seemed, no matter how they bemoaned the image. Yet she wasn't half the titan her former master was, the strength of Darth Carnifex unmatched, yet she had developed her particular skillset to counter such a beast of a man, nor did the ice give the Pyromancer pause.

In a strange way, Aivar made her feel more at home among the Tsis'kaar. Because no matter how many mistakes Anathemous made today? She would never be as bad at her job as the Cathar.

"How the hell are you a Tsis'kaar?" she shook her head before turning to her apprentice for a moment.

"Come then, Tamsin, we have our orders, and Imperials counting on us."

Anathemous then tossed the girl a cloaking unit before turning to activate her own, all whilst keeping unseen eyes on her flank in case the barbarian reacted in the way she expected her to.

 

[Kivah]

WEARING: Udyr Biosuit, Tracker/Flash Goggles
WEAPONS: Jackal ACR, z-14 Autoblaster, Astraeus Missile Launcher, Lightsabers
TAG: Gerwald Lechner

Where was Adras? No idea. Did it matter? Not really. Kivah had been pulled from the Kor'ethyr for a practical exercise. At least that's what she told the other students of House Rakghoul. Tsis-Kaar wasn't a name you spread around, even among those you pretended were friends. Still, as secretive as the organization was, someone had mentioned "Another Cathar," in range of her excellent hearing, and she was hoping to run into them. She didn't think Micah was here and the prospect of meeting a third of her kind in the Sith Order excited her. And if it was Micah, she could compare experiences and kills with the kit. Enjoy a familiar face.

She shifted in the dropship's hold as the bay jostled around her. She rode it out, easy on her feet until the doors opened and they charged. Always charge from a dropship. You don't know what's outside and mobility is your friend, spread out, get clear of the ship so it can take off again. It was also a clear target for interceptors and AA or artillery. Not that Kivah really expected much in the way of heavy fire from the prison.

The Dread Wolf, Lord Lechner called out his cry of death, rallying the surrounding troops. Kivah didn't cheer. Studying instead, the distant architecture of the prison gate. There was fighting inside and she could see flashes of blaster fire sparkle along the wall to occasionally flash out into the sky. Visions of her wielding her heavy repeater mowing down insurrectionists flashed through her head and she felt a pain of regret. She'd left her favorite gun behind in favor of the lighter, and slimmer, ACR. Sighing, she pulled the reason why from where she'd slung it across her back and began slinking her way closer to the gates.

As she crossed the desolate ground, the yellow-ocher of the landscape began to seep its way across her biosuit like a drop of coloring swirling its way through water. Spreading and resolving until the dark grays changed to match the surrounding wasteland. "That's the problem," she thought to herself as the assault began, "no subtly anymore." The defenders had been distracted by the fighting inside, but they hadn't abandoned the walls and were soon taking up positions to tray and drive them off.

Laying prone, Kivah adjusted the settings on the Astraeus, taking off the tracking. Angling, she fired on the first tower flanking the gate, switched to the parapet surrounding the second and fired a second time in rapid succession. Her tail went ramrod and bristled and she scrambled into a roll to the side as blaster bolts tracked through the dirt where she'd been. But she was rising to a knee, third shot out as the first two exploded against the tops of the towers, this time at whoever had been quick enough on the uptake to fire on her. She watched it trail in as her tail relaxed again. Watching the missile explode along the wall's top. The repeater was fun, but the missile launcher was good too.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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

The soldiers ran off the dropship following Gerwald’s lead. His speech had not been long. They shouted the battle cry in return, save one. The Dread Wolf took notice, this one was from Korriban. Gerwald had recognized Cathar from other ventures. There were not many among the Sith Order the Wolf knew of, so this was a face he recalled. What he did not remember was the combat function this one served. They did not have time to wait.

Gerwald led his team on a charge.

A shot rang out, and Gerwald saw a body drop from the tower. A smirk pulled at his lips. It was nice to have a sniper, even if that was what the Cathar was or not. Regardless they were a crack shot, and that would allow for the assault on the gates to go without much interference.

The prisoners did not know what hit them. Warband Alpha was fast and furious. Their tactics were swift and heavy hitting. This was the kind of raid they had been formed for. His hand waved the raiders onward as he ran toward the gate itself. His mind reached out with the force, finding the molecular flaw in the barrier. With a single thought, and a motion of his wrist, the gate shattered. There was a reason the warbands were led by Sith.

Prisoners turned assailants poured out of the opening in an attempt to stop the Sith from advancing. Gerwald ignited his crimson saber and began to cut away at the criminals which charged them. He hoped that Darth Malum of House Marr and his team would have the shield down in time. They would be stuck in the courtyard fighting whatever came their way until then.

His eyes looked to where Kivah was perched. Hopefully she would keep up.