Dominion Blood and Thunder | NIO Dominion of Glee Anselm

[NISCOM]

E M P I R E _ R I S I N G​

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G L E E _ A N S E L M
B L O O D _ A N D _ T H U N D E R

Though the One Sith has long fallen, in some places their grip refused to falter. For years, Glee Anselm's cries for help have fallen on deaf ears.

Until now.

In the wake of the New Order's rising, the aquatic planet has found itself in our path. Anselmi and Nautolan alike have suffered beneath the boot of the One Sith. Like us, they have had enough. A peaceful integration into our great Empire has been offered by the planet's government. In exhange? Liberation.

OBJECTIVE I //: OPERATION: IRON TUSK

In the farthest depths of Glee Anselm's massive oceans, a remnant of the One Sith lives. They persist only through fear and force, strongarming the locals into submission. For years their presence has remained unchecked. No longer. The New Order was founded to oppose Sith tyranny in any form, and this will of defiance extends as well to our galactic neighbors.

Side by side with rebellions forces comprised of natives and expatriates of Glee Anselm, we wage war against the One Sith remnant. Root out this parasite, and restore order to Glee Anselm's waters. Remind the galaxy that that dark creed is not safe, no matter where it hides.

OBJECTIVE II //: SEABEAST

The One Sith zealots who cling to an era long past are not the only plague upon these waters. Sithspawn run rampant. These invasive abominations destroy populations and disrupt ecosystems. Many of Glee Anselm's most important aquatic species are now on the brink of extinction.

These dark beasts must be exterminated.

This no job for the average trooper. This requires those among our most elite. The Imperial Knights, Sons of Mandalore, and select individuals have been assigned the task of conquering the insurmountable foes. The hunt is on.

OBJECTIVE III //: AQUA DEMENTIA

Within the halls of a captured One Sith compound, the Imperial Assembly touches down on Glee Anselm. Fresh out of a meeting with the planet's leaders, the Assembly convenes for a session. The agenda? The fate of One Sith prisoners.

Some advocate for rehabilitation, reeducation; a second chance. Others reject this call for mercy, calling for the imprisonment and execution of what will remain. Their fate is in the hands of our Moffs and Warlords.

​

OBJECTIVE //: BYOO

Whatever gets you to post, chief.

 

[Karlist Rax]

Objective: Aqua Dementia
Location: Imperial Assembly Meeting

Admiral Karlist Rax did not carry himself in the same way as his superior. Rather, the Admiral wore his heart on sleeve, and so when assured that the delegates of the Imperial Assembly were present after their conference with the local political leadership, he began. "Gentlemen!" The Dosuunian's thick highlands accent reverberating through the conference hall, "Ladies!" Once the chitter chatter and discussion settled, Rax began. "Esteemed colleagues of the Imperial Assembly, let us begin." Rax sat back down at his seat.

"Before we begin, I am Admiral Karlist Rax," Rax continued, "And unfortunately, Grand Admiral Rausgeber could not be present. I am authorised to act in his stead on this matter." He paused, "This matter being the fate of One Sith prisoners secured in the course of our and local forces operations here." The Admiral began to shuffle through some documents, "Given our position on the Sith Empire, I imagine for some of you it is natural to transplant our policy on the Sith Empire to the One Sith. It being the seemingly natural conclusion given history and naming scheme."

"This in both the Grand Admiral, and my view would be a grievous mistake." Karlist mused, "We rather believe that the members of the One Sith, should be treated on a case by case basis." Karlist paused, and looked over at the Sovereign Imperator, "Some of the greatest officers of the First Order," Karlist slammed a fist to his chest, "Prefsbelt Command's predecessors, were once employed at one time by the One Sith. As such, those deemed to be acceptable or malleable personnel should be allowed into our forces as such." He then paused, "Those uncooperative? Should be dispatched to our factories on Prefsbelt IV."

 

[Salvor King]

BYOO
Glee Anselm
Some Beach Somewhere
I _ A M _ A H A B

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​

After several long moments of silent uncertainty, a figure slowly began to emerge from the water. With every stride towards the shore, more and more of King visible as he inched step after step out of the saline blue. His blonde locks now darkened, stuck down to the sides of his head and face. Skin glistening and dripping with ocean water. Jeans now soaked, even darker and tighter than they had been before.

Over his shoulder, the brownish-green tail of a now-deceased sithspawn. Every laborious push forward accentuated the size of the creature as it was slowly drug from the water. The best was more than five times his size. It's oversized maw agape, jagged ivory spires both broken and pristine added scale to the sheer size of its mouth. Even with the teeth, it had the size credentials to swallow a man whole.

Not a single bruise, laceration, or scratch was visible on King's unclothed arms and torso. Nor anywhere else for that matter. The water trapped in his boots squished, squealed, and squelched with every impact against the sand. King grunted, mustering the inhuman, force aided strength to swing the cadaver onto the shore. The sithspawn tumbled a meter or two before rolling to a cold, dead stop.

King finally stepped onto dry sand. He brushed his hair back out of his face with a single open, handed motion. A pointed exhale blew much of the water from his facial hair.

Beachgoers cheered while others remained totally stunned.

Until the Sithspawn thrashed, sending all cheers transitioning to screams of horror.

King's hips pivoted towards the creature. With an arm outstretched, he pantomimed a gun. "Bang," he whispered, sending a concentrated push of the force into the creature's skull. His elbow bent, mimicking the recoil of a slugthrower. An audible crunch sounded, the crown of the creature's skull shattering into the brain.

This time, it was really dead.

There were fewer cheers this time, and many of them sounded uncertain. King scoffed. Holding out the same hand, he called once again upon that power. Sunglasses flew from somewhere and into his grasp. He flicked them to the side, unfolding them, and slid them onto his face.

"Always a show with you people," he muttered under his breath.

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GLEE ANSELM
AQUA DEMENTIA
FOCUS | Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Lucien Dooku | Karlist Rax | Halketh
J U S T I C E _ F O R _ A L L

​

Interesting topic for the Assembly today, one that was highly unconventional for Snake’s taste. So far all the meetings he had been with his fellow Imperials, whether liked or abhorred, were based on military operations or domestic issues such as accepting a wave of refugees into their borders. He was no judge or jury for the fate of convicts, but he was an excellent executioner in many different meanings.

So why bother convening just to bicker and argue about for these individuals whose crimes were apparent on Glee Anselm, continuing the legacy of a defunct nation that was led by the Sith of that era. The time before the current Sith Empire resurged from the darkness. So what was it to Djorn?

Actually, what was it to Djorn and Jaeger?

The two leading operatives COMPNOR had their own agenda with these convicted men and women. To them, they were more than just criminals that a majority should receive the death penalty. They were tools, assets to their eyes. They eyed on several selective individuals, realizing they could enhance their operations. Most of them were considered expendable and most likely would end up in the 45th “Oathsworn” of CompForce which was where criminals and others went to be used for “suicide charges”.

Just one problem: Lucien.

No doubt he’d try to derail their wants as he always did; Lord Halketh and Grand Vizier Paxxus would be the wild cards. Admiral Rax seemed to have similar opinions as Djorn; however, Snake wanted it all the chips for COMPNOR.

“I’ve looked over the files of some of the prisoners, sir,” he sat close to the Boss, his eyes focused on the man as he spoke, “there’s definitely some value in some of these individuals, they could be of use for us. I agree with Admiral Rax sentiments on the topic, so I hardly see the death penalty being any useful for these people. What I recommend is having them integrated in the CompForce, let them pay back to us for the second chance we’ve given them.”

He then fell silent, coiled up as he observed the rest of his peers in what their opinions were on the matter.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
THE OATHSWORN
SONS OF MANDALORE
BYOO | NEW IMPERIAL MEDICAL STATION
Caeos Prahl

​

Hopes of personal triumph were dashed in the foothills of Shili. What began as a hunt to prove, to test their mettle for the young Volker Kurze and Caeos Prahl distorted into a savage battle of wills before grievous wounds meant an immediate evacuation of the Prahl girl. With a world in peril, they set off for the nearest New Imperial medical station where emergency surgery would be conducted unto Caeos.

Trajan couldn't stomach the sight, for the first time in a long while, since Hammerfall, he felt a sickening pit swell in his stomach. A pit of failure, the very same he'd felt when his daughter had died in the hell fires wrought down unto Concordia by the Sith Empire.

Volker was in nigh shock, his gaze fixated on the droids as they began the cold and mechanical process of reconstructing the shattered bone and flesh. No doubt they'd have to resort to cybernetics or synthetic replacements in some areas. All Volker could remember from those first few moments was the second her helmet was wrenched off and he was finally able to look at her beneath the Beskar'gam, the foreboding T-visor visage of the Mandalorian.

He was entranced before he was forced out. When it became clear she was conscious and on her way to recovery again, he visited her in that medbay once more as Trajan consoled a rightfully discontent Beocca.

<"Hey...good to see you awake...how are you feeling?"> Was all Volker could manage to ask.

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

C O M P N O R
O B J E C T I V E _ I I I | A Q U A _ D E M E N T I A

​

The underwater compound was, as many could notice from the writings on the wall, in fact the former Sith Academy of Glee Anselm. Its cold walls reminded him of a bygone era, symbolizing now the defunct state of what was once known the One Sith. Jaeger had been twice here before. His first, as a part of the One Sith intelligence mission to set the grounds for Operation: Ironfist. An operation they all had then wished to never come to but it did. How deeply he wished to be eternal, while he was young. Alas, the fallacies of men and time. Time - that which had no mercy upon a man. What remained eternal was not his age but a lingering guilt for the collapse of the One Sith. Alas.

His second time here was at the launch of Operation: Ironfist, at the precipice of the One Sith's fall. Capable men and women were left in charge of the operation that, for a time, succeeded in demoralizing and destabilizing the Core and the now Silver Jedi territories. At its height, then Major Jaeger Harrsk had opted to serving more publicly; a mistake which led to his 'banishment' from any positions within the new rulers of the Core - the Galactic Alliance. Out of options, Jaeger retreated to a private life during which he co-wrote "If I were the Emperor" with his father on Empress Teta and almost got married. Alas.

Operation: Ironfist ultimately failed during a daring assault on a frontier Silver Jedi world where the One Sith Remnant's leader Colonel Brutus Alta was destroyed along with his flagship. His death led to a disarray unforeseen by anyone. A failure to plan for contigency. Ironfist in itself was a contingency, so how many contingencies could one fathom to conceptualize? Hardly anyone to blame, except ones own stubbornness. The operation had been always doomed to fail. It was merely a buffer, a delay until the Sith Empire, the One Sith's successor, returned to the Core. Alas.

The Sith never did.

"You will find many who would voluntarily join our cause. A few had already done so." he did not go into detail, but those few were now part of the 3rd Assault-CF "Wilhulf Tarkin" - Harrsks' 'own' combat group. "Karstan Law and Leia Therin I will vouch for." Alas.

A vengeful spark flashed across his sunglasses.

"Korvas Drefive can be sent to the wolves." it was a first to perhaps most of the gathered to view a glimmer of a person behind the enigmatic sunglasses of the scarred man. Forget the assets the Remnant had established, money laundering operations, drug trafficking, black market ownerships and cartel relationships. Alas.

This was personal.

Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Karlist Rax | Lucien Dooku | Halketh | Ravraa Vyshraal | Tyrell Paxxus​

 

[Jorus Fel]

8 T H _ A I R B O R N E
Objective II
S E A B E A S T
M O N S T E R _ H U N T I N G​

Two stormtroopers with missile launchers stared dumbfoundedly at the eccentric man singlehandedly killing a literal monster.

Yeah, that was us.

No, not the monster. The stormtroopers. Me and Ganor. Last time we squaded up was back on Huk firing arty on a local warlord. We were here on...monster hunting business. You heard it right. The 8th could literally do anything, I guess.

Or at least its new blood. 501st vets really had a hard time on us new recruits. They sent us down here to be devoured by beasts while they laughed, played sabacc and drank back in space. We could've been part of the task foce to eradicate the One Sith remnants but no.

"Hey, mate, what the hell?" I called at the one man punch with my thick Archaisian accent coming out. "We had a deal."

"Yeah, man." Ganor tapped at his missile launcher. "You bait them out and we blitz 'em."

I nodded in confirmation.

Salvor King​

 

[Sinestra]

O B J E C T I V E _ I
pool party, banditfighting, pool party
g a n g s t a ' s _ p a r a d i se
​

Submerged under water for hours really made one question the concepts of reality. Arno and Tavius had been dispatched to track down one of the One Sith Remnant's leaders - Knight Inquisitor Sul Crowe of the Saaraishash, the remnant's link with the Sith Empire. After the Remnant's collapse, he had defected from his Sith Imperial duties and had become a warlord of the planet - drinking for free, smutting for free, anything he wanted for free. Glee Anselm had become his own personal kingdom.

Until the New Imperials arrived.

The duo were chasing shadows at this point until they got a positive ping and went after it. Their trail ended up with the two armored commandos emerging on a beach with a pool party going on. A clothing-optional beach. Music so loud they could hear it booming through their underwater suits and drugged up patrons barely registering the sudden appearance of two fully armed BAMFs.

Arno lowered his harpoon rifle and turned his head towards Tavius:

"He came this way, right?"

Tavius Muuaji

 

[Tavius Muuaji]

OBJ 1

Glancing at a datapad as they chased after the Knight Inquisitor, he was ensuring that they had the right guy while they moved.

A holo image of Sul Crowe rotated, hovering above the screen, but as soon as they had emerged onto the beach, the sudden stimulation from so many different soruces distracted him enough for him to lose sight of their target.

Raising his rifle up onto his shoulder, he was silent at Sinestra s inquiry, as he was currently in the process of reconnecting his jaw from the surprise at seeing the on goings of the beach.

"Uhh... Yeah..." Squinting, he could see a figure leaping over a beach chair very hurriedly.

"Let's go!"

 

[Simon Meinrad]

H U N T E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GLEE ANSELM
OPERATION : TIDAL WAVE

Kolson Vrask | Meko Sorrin | Gedeon Rath​

S E A R C H _ A N D _ D E S T R O Y​

Simple infantryman, that’s how it all started with him. He had no ambitions of a civilian life, always getting into trouble and not excelling in academics. Knew how to read and write, just didn’t gave a damn about the rest. Only thing he was good at was fighting, and later killing. Thought he’d die when joining the “grunts” of the military, alas he did not. His constitution and skills proved to his superiors in promoting him, enhancing his training up to the point of being a Storm Commando.

As cool as it was, it was hardly as thrilling being in the front lines of a battle. There was still killing, thankfully. Just sometimes the orders he received bored the hell out of him.

Great, another one of those missions.

Another mission in acquiring intel, a special assignment some of the higher ups from COMPNOR assigned to Vandal. According to some bloke that went by “Bline”, there was apparently concerns from the native Nautolans regarding to their warlike cousins, the Anselms, in which they outnumbered. After all this time, the Anselms had a vendetta towards the Nautolans.

Old habits never died.

Their target was some abandoned resort park which a team of Nautolan scouts were sent out to observe on their land-dwelling cousins only to never report back or send out a distress signal. Perfect timing when the New Imperial Order arrived with the Imperials Assembly and a task force to deal with the insurgents that plagued the planet since the days of the One Sith.

This nuisance was for Vandal Squad and other commandos to handle. Main objective was to find the missing Nautolans and to bring any intel on these Anselms.

From a stealth dropship they were dispatched into the jungles of one of Glee Anselm’s Islands, it was one of the big ones.

“Berik, you still have authorization for a BDZ, yeah?”

 

[Caeos Prahl]

Prahl // SoM // New Imperial Medical Station

Trajan Fett

​

There was a steadily beeping of machines that led her out of the comatose state, Caeos saw the blurry movement of figures above her. The strictest voices carried on and played like a broken reel in her mind as the anesthesia faded from her system. The soft sterile setting was not what she recalled last, no hadn’t it been night? The fluorescent lights were harsh and she shied away at first, her movement sluggish. Her hand trailed along the soft sheets of the bed, taking it in slowly as she pulled back the blanket. A firm hand was at her back, helping her sit up. The material slipped from her hand as her fingers brushed the small set of tubes set upon her face. The cold air-Caeos blinked reeling as she did not feel the weight of her own helmet. Fear showed across her face and she looked to the woman who stood at her bedside, she had been speaking this whole time but Caeos had not heard a word. The monitor steadily rose along with her heart. The Akul-

“-press this button here if you develop any pain..Do you have any questions?”

“Where..where is my helmet? I..I uh need now, this isn’t-”

“Ma’am I need you to calm down..you have a visitor. I will see if I can locate it but you’re checked in and we can’t have it impeding our access..”

Silence lulled and Caeos felt her face burn, unsure entirely and the woman-no she knew the greys. The Imperial took it for compliance it seemed, pointedly checking something off upon the cerulean screen before she walked off with a queer look. It was stupid she thought pointedly, this was..There was a hush, machines buzzed around her and Caeos slowly sunk back into the bed. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she chewed on her thoughts, eyes stinging. Caeos felt the sharp pang of failure, it was only supposed to be a hunt and her mind drifted to her helmet. This wasn’t supposed to have happened and she sniffed before pressing the palm of her hand to her eyes; she felt no better than a child then. She had been allowed time to fail to learn but she knew the unspoken expectation. Caeos could only think of Chyarde, and the shame mounted.

​

<"Hey...good to see you awake...how are you feeling?"> Was all Volker could manage to ask.

Caeos knew the voice but was startled still, seizing as her hand dropped to her lap. Looking up, she stared at the dark visor of Volker. The white of eyes showed as she seemingly panicked, eyes brimmed red from her distress. Caeos ducked her head wordlessly, it was a gross feeling torn by the Hunt and the invasion of..of her privacy. She didn’t know if anyone else had..Caeos could only remember showing her face to her own Buir after such a long time. Strands of hair slipped from behind her ear loosely and hung around her face akin to a veil and she refused to look at him, her mouth dry as she studied the weave of the sheets.

“Su cuy'gar..I..I am fine thank you.”

 

[Kolson Vrask]

V A N D A L
STORM COMMANDO TASK FORCE 'DARK RIDER'
VANDAL SQUAD
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Simon Meinrad | Meko Sorrin | Gedeon Rath

<"No...no I don't think we have the green light for a BDZ you fucking mad man."> Berik said, a faint laugh finishing the thought as he peered to his flanks. The usual suspects, black storm recon armor. As well too was a newly formed COMPFORCE unit, one well in need of proper training and field experience. No doubt, to their full potential, they could be useful. Frogmen, underwater infiltrators and saboteurs. It's said Nautolans are the best swimmers in the Galaxy, but the jury was still out on if they were any good for soldiers. Jedi? Sith? There was plenty of Nautolan that filled the ranks of both, but tribal societies lended well to being swayed by these tantalizing cults.

As they began to make their way into the jungle, there was a deadness in the air, a silence, a calm before the storm. And if anything, the physical isolation of their squad spurned the knack for conversation from the otherwise seldom spoken Berik.

<"Crik...tell me real quick. When you got the ping for Glee Anselm...I can't be the only one that figured we'd be up in a cozy assignment for once, awaiting our next mission, 'peacekeeping' on one of the beachfront settlements. Something like that...nope. Nope instead...here we are, in the shit, again."> He says.

 

[Meko Sorrin]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
OPERATION: TIDAL WAVE
Focus | Simon Meinrad | Kolson Vrask | Gedeon Rath

​

Another day, another credit.

A group of Nautolans on a little scouting mission never seemed to get back to any authorities. So the motley crew of Storm Commandos was called in to investigate this little mystery. Local intel suggests it's the Anselmi, the other beings, and distant cousins of the Nautolans that mainly inhabit the water world, but it's too early to confirm.

Sorrin stood in the back of the ship, silent for the most part but bust cleaning his service weapon. In the ambiance of the backlighting, the rifle damn near gleamed. The blaster pack he held in his hand as he gave the rifle another once over. A clean rifle meant that you could shoot with no mistakes. Perfect for an area you don't know. Stay prepared, stay focused, stay ready.

The dropzone wouldn't appear for another minute. Another once over would do the trick.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
THE OATHSWORN
SONS OF MANDALORE
BYOO | NEW IMPERIAL MEDICAL STATION
Caeos Prahl

​

Her distress was evident. The Mandalorian without her helmet, a naked and vulnerable gaze. Even if she had nothing to fear from him. He knelt by the bed, looking carefully over her from behind his own T-visor.

<"Beocca certainly isn't erm...happy about what happened but- we made it out, killed the Akul. How bad did they say all the damage was? Do you know?"> Volker inquired to her before eventually, in an attempt to lift the tension and discomfort from her vulnerability without the foreboding gaze of the Beskar'gam, Volker twisted his helmet before slowly lifting it from his own gaze, their truest gaze shifting to one another for the first time. So that she might not feel so alone.

"The Togruta apparently were...thankful, that we were able to kill it, they wanted to make sure you knew that." He mentioned off handidly.

 

[Cormac Thire]

P E N I T E N T
ADMIRAL | SEVENTH FLEET
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
FOCUS | Karlist Rax | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline

He was the nearest command asset capable of providing the Imperator's input to this matter, due to the deployment of his battlegroup over his native Dorin to stave off attempts from the Dread Ascendancy to sow influence in this region. The three men assembled here already were among the more 'radical' of the New Order's ruling ideology, Var Koon subscribing more to towing the middle like as the head of state had seemed to thus far.

He tread through the foreboding halls before eventually arriving to where the rest were assembled, out of place as an alien, a non humanoid at that among these pure human Imperials.

"This seems to be a rather...arbitrary selection process, Commissioner. If I might be so bold. I think a more indifferent tribunal might be better established to determined the fate of these One Sith. At least those who are Imperial...those who are true blooded followers to the Sith Code? There is no patience to be spared to them but we should not let personal histories over ride the needs of the Order. Each man and woman should be considered." The Kel Dor argues.

"These remnants have been plaguing the Galaxy for some time. The priority in duty of those we've acquired should be ultimately, divulging information of their comrades. So we might possibly root out a nexus point of the One Sith remnants, rid of them forever." The Admiral suggests.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BYOO | RAVRAA VYSHRAAL, MOFF OF SHILI
E C H O E S
Ravraa Vyshraal

Whatever the events of Shili would coalesce in as far as the growing tensions between the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance was largely irrelevant for now. If anything, it was a cooling point, an ease of tension. But the priority of matters focused inward now. Shili was all but inevitably going to be fully incorporated into the New Imperial Order, with it, a governor capable of sowing peace and order was necessary. Some might have been better fit for the role, more heavy handed but Shili was the home of the Togruta, or Ravraa. No man would fit the bill better. No one can govern better than he who looks after his home, the people he grew up around, that he is familiar with.

After a visit to his father in the Shili countryside, Ravraa was summoned by the Impersator’s own command to Corvala. The outskirts of the city showed the winding scars of war in its wake and the streets themselves were only just waning from conflict as the flags of the Sovereign Alignment and New Imperial Order flew from atop troop carriers and transports ferrying stormtroopers around the city.

Within the capital building, largely pristine but still defaced by the stray scars of war Tavlar awaited his Togruta subordinate. He approached and Tavlar offered him a nod before motioning for him to follow with a metallic hand.

"Ravraa. Walk with me, if you would." He offered, addressing him for the first time in a more personal manner, less so as his guard and subordinate.

"I can only imagine what it must feel like...to be back home. Even under circumstances such as this." Their path took them through ornate halls, eventually secluded from the bustle and chaos of Corvala proper.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

F o r t u n a t e S o n

Sybila // Vindicated Security Force // Objective III : Iron Tusk

The salt stung the eyes, the ocean water had poured through the crack that marred the greater half of her helmet. Pain split through her skull from where the hand of the wretched woman had reached out, commanding the Force itself to snap the armor. The screen had shut down and only a back light hummed inside her helmet. Lyra coughed then, trying to fight the sour taste. The noise, muffled by the locked seal.

The tide licked at her thighs but she did not feel it’s cold embrace, trapped below her was the unmoving corpse of the target-dragged from the waters by her hand. Grunting with frustration her gauntlet hooked under the seal finally in a moment of clarity and she casted the sundered armor aside to the wet sands. There was a redish hue that swirled from the helmet, and the woman could feel the cut that stretched down her face and it stung. The screen had bent in and now she was marred.

Heaving for air, Lyra was greeted by the frigid airs of the beach head, smoke and iron laced the air and she stared down the beach. The remains of the gun ship burned, the handful of troopers caught amidst the throes of the fire fight still and Lyra lowered herself. The guerilla fighters the contact had arranged weaved between them, effective as any local force might be. Fodder. The grey clad armor stood out against the pale beaches as they chased down the remnants of the warriors. Terrorists, traitors, there was a thousand names for them. Blaster fire lit up the beach, the red heat burning up the very air. She could taste the tibanna, Lyra laughed weakly.

Over the roar of the tide, her saber hummed under her hand still and Lyra her split gaze back to the remains of the woman. Commander Khaylia Athan or so the report had read was dead, but the wretch’s own laughter still rang in her ears. The very echo of the noise still made her lip curl, disdain swirling in her chest. The woman had run, command had wanted her secured-wanted her alive. Lyra’s gaze simmered as she looked at the blood drain visage.

This one had fell their ship and three men were dead now because of it. It did not begin to detail the crimes committed long before their interjection in to the system. No, it burned like a fire in her chest-This was justice. The crimson blade spat and hissed, flesh burning from where she had buried it in the bitche’s chest. Steam rose from them, and Lyra’s thumb brushed the switch of the saber to kill the blade.

“Ma’am! Are you alright?” the Lieutenant was racing toward her, heels kicking up sand as he threw himself down in to the tide beside her.

“Was this her?” Lyra rasped, she wanted to know-to hear the words. Letting her chin drop as she looked back to the water logged features of the woman, nigh indifferent to the grotesque turn.

“She matches the ID, yes. The others are flushing out the rest as we speak. We need-”

“Arroyo get me a stick-a big one,” Lyra muttered, letting her head lull back, staring up at the blue skies. The Zabrak shifted, unsure if he had heard her right-he was questioning her she knew it and Lyra gestured limply. She could taste the ocean and it’s muck still on her lips. Spite curled inside and she’d be damn if she didn’t send a message. “- and call the others back. We’ll regroup and hunt the rest down soon enough. She killed them, and we kill them, you understand?”

“..Yes ma’am..”

When he rose up, Lyra planted one gauntlet in the sand and followed after him. With a turn of her hand she ignited the saber, the red blade snapped to life. Gritting her teeth, Lyra stood above the body, drops of her own blood lost to the black robes the woman donned. If she stared long enough, the water tricked the eye made brown locks darkened and the pale face..Lyra imagined she was staring down at herself if only for a moment. Hersey. She slashed the blade in a decisive cut. Wordlessly, severing head from body in a single flourish.

 

[Caeos Prahl]

Prahl // SoM // New Imperial Medical Station

Trajan Fett

​

The care he took to speak to her caught her off guard, and Caeos worried then it was pity and her face burned red as she muttered something under her breath. She was slow to form her words, to answer and her sole hand painfully bunched the sheets in hand. A small noise, one that spelled half acknowledgment bubbled in her throat.

“I wasn’t..paying attention to what the nurse said. I suppose we will find out soon enough..” Caeos admitted softly, she only had layers of crisp white bandages to go off. The events of the fight fresh in her mind, it was an ugly sight she imagined. She felt only the distant ache in her limb and for that she was thankful. It was the slight of hand that caught her eye, drawing her stupor and Caeos’ brows furrowed as she turned her head to finally look at the blank visor of Volker. Her gaze reflected in the unwavering murky screen and she realized then what he was doing. Her breath stuttered in her throat and she raised her hand-

“Volker what are you doing-” her words died as he slipped his helmet off and the girl found herself looking at the boy in the eyes. The girl didn’t speak and silence dragged out as she took in every corner of his feature to his jaw and the color of his eyes. It was a profound gesture alone and Caeos blinked her eyes, glancing away only to tame the tears as a plethora of emotion passed over her visage. She was an open book as she pursed her lips together before a watery smile won out and crossed her lips.


“Thank you...” she finally whispered.

For a moment she wondered if she was overreacting in the wake of the accident.

“...I am glad we could help the Togruta. Did you take any as a trophy for yourself? To.. show the others? You were brave.”

​

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

homecoming​

BYOO | RAVRAA VYSHRAAL, MOFF OF SHILI

New Imperial Order

Irveric Tavlar

​

There was many things that Ravraa had become in his service to the New Imperial Order. He had become a hero, a savior, a guardian, a villain, a killer, and a turncoat. At least, in the eyes of certain people. History was decided by the victors, after all. Though, Ravraa had issues of not seeing himself through the same lens his enemy did. He was nothing more than a walking gun, a blaster to be aimed at the enemies of the Empire and made to dispense justice and judgement, of fury born from the rage of determination, the desire to stand tall against the Sith. Though, that was only at the beginning. Lines were clear then, it was obvious who was the foe and who was a friend. Who deserved saving and who did not, at least, at the start that choice was easy. He had begun to keep a tally mark on his stolen Judicator, of kills. A single scratch laid there currently, one of Lord Noxwalda. The man that had, without question, threw himself into combat at the side of Dorn-2. Why was it so easy to pull the trigger on him then? It was a haunting etch, something that dug at him through the nights.

Despite this, his job never offered a wide scope of where he belonged within the New Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. He understood that he had climbed the ladder rather quickly, especially within the 501st Legion. Private to Captain in a single campaign, rare. Though, his promotions rarely meant much more than more freedom with how Dorn-2 operated as a whole. He was able to decide more and more about their operations, how they would conduct their warfare. Specialized shock commandos, as it were. Dedicated to bringing down Force Sensitives. Why?

What purpose did that have when even the Servants of the Shadow themselves showed sparks of humanity?

Now, he was Moff beyond his own decision. Thrust upon him by higher powers.

The fate of himself, and Dorn-2, hung in the air. Daring to vanish with the breeze.

He stood inches from the man that had started it all. The Imperator, the head of state, the stella regem, the Breaker of the Sith. Irveric Tavlar. He had seen him before, in brief moments, passing in guard duties or in VIP missions early into the New Order’s lifetime. Back when Ravraa treated this much more of a summer job than most.

If he had one take away? He expected the man to be taller.

He wasn’t meant to be this close to someone of the polished brass and silver of command, he was hardly anything more than a country boy with a blank governmental check. Even now, as far as it came to proper formal clothes was his military fatigues. He certainly wasn’t going to wear his overalls to meet the Imperator.

Outside of the veil of a helmet, outside of a betaplast prison, he could see the weight with the Imperator’s steps. He could see the tide of nations rising and falling as he moved his hand. The voice carried with it something Ravraa assigned to world weariness. Though, that could be him over analyzing out of nerves.

In comparison, Ravraa’s Shili accent came out harsh, undereducated, and unformal.

“Imperator, er’uh. Thank you. Though, this ain’t exactly much of a home to me. Went a-runnin’ with pa here and there across the Rim. I don’t come from any one place ‘ere. Shili was what we came runnin’ back to. Time and time. Here or there. Guess that counts as a home, same as.” He was rambling, no real point to his words. Simply filling the silence that the question left open.

“I’ve been all over this world. My kin are from the marshes, but I’ve been all over. The uh, circumstances, you called it.” War, always war.

“Could be better, I suppose.”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

absolute BLUNDER