Invasion Break of Dawn || CIS Invasion of BOTM held Rhand

[Aspect of Defiance]

​

The Confederacy of Independent Systems was a nation founded on two core principles. The first: that all member systems would have individual self-determination and liberty, free from tyranny and subjugation. The second: that under no form, would slavery be allowed to exist.

It was because of those two tenets that the Confederacy remained the stalwart bastion of freedom in the Galaxy, despite being surrounded by a sea of crime, corruption, and oppression. When foreign governments had risen to threaten the ideals of the Confederacy, the CIS had taken the action to curb their intrusion or destroy them.

In the height of the Confederacy’s influence, it’s leaders decided that the Galaxy was not deserving of the Confederacy’s protection. The Confederacy withdrew military assets to their borders and declared they would no longer police the galaxy. In that absence, tyranny and slavery once more rose to power throughout the Galaxy. It was a familiar enemy under the mask of many different names, and those masks would rise and fall, all while the Confederacy remained as they were. The rising threat of Sith radicalism and genocide brought a change to all of that. The Viceroyalty was convinced to seek a new leader for the Confederacy, one who would show that the nation would not sit idly by while individual freedom was threatened.

In the wild recesses of the Unknown Regions, a cancer had been allowed to fester. The Brotherhood of the Maw: raiders, savages, and slavers who pretended to be heirs to the legacy of the Sith Order. They were far removed from the Confederacy’s borders, yet their wanton destruction of the Chiss homeworld of Csilla and willingness to enslave and subjugate the free peoples of the galaxy could not be allowed to stand. For these reasons, Operation: Breaking Dawn was authorized, a targeted and decisive strike against the Maw.

Forces of the mighty Expeditionary Fleet would seek to secure an orbit and atmosphere, including the massive skyhook that enabled direct travel to the Confederacy’s primary target: Port Sorrow, one of the Maw’s larger slave processing centers in the Galaxy.

Those slaves would be freed.

Port Sorrow, the Maw’s facilities, temples, and cultists, would burn.

The Confederacy would once more carry the banner of freedom.

A new dawn was finally breaking.

Spoiler: OBJECTIVES

One of the larger slaver facilities the Brotherhood of the Maw operate, the target was deemed ideal to send a message to all who were paying attention. The Confederacy will not tolerate slavery. The goal is simple, take control of the landing pads and space elevator, free the slaves, and destroy the facility. A quick and decisive blow seeking to cripple a foundational piece of the Brotherhood’s economy.

While the ground forces see to Port Sorrow, the Confederate Navy has been tasked with seeing to the destruction of the main manufacturing plant stationed above the Rhand. The Skyhook, as it is being called, is an integral part of Port Sorrow’s Supply chain, including the incarceration of additional slaves. Saving those lives is just as important as destroying the facility.

The mission would not be complete without attempting to strike at the heart of the philosophy which allows the Maw to condone such vile acts as genocide and slavery. While it is not the main objective, a strike team has been authorized to deal a crippling blow to the Sorcerers of Rhand. The target, their temple.

Spoiler: CIS TAG LIST

Alaria Telwith
Alban Roble
@Alden Akaran
Amelia von Sorenn
Anakwor Farlorn
Anashla Deshal
Ar'tal Ktruok
A Arisone
Archon Xris
Ashelia Solidor
Aston Jacobs
Aya Clarke
Bastille Rommer
Beric Layne
Bentil Mortop
Bullwark
Caesar Kenway
Cazo Thraos
Corvus Dravere
Colton Renth
Corran Watts
@Cypher Rage
Damsy Callat
@Danielle Mueller
Jayce Pryde
Decious
Dispara
Draconis Sederius Wolf
Easy-G97
Eli-Mae Forrest
Elsasca Selcoc
Eryneth
Fawn Alzi
Faye Malvern
FN-1138
Gerwald Lechner
Holt
Hester Shedo
IG-65A
Jason Farkas
Joannis Campbell
John Locke
Julra Repraj
Karlie Lynn Destat
Kasca Fen
Kathryn Foster
Kayla Wylen
Kiff Brayde
Krystal
Kurenai Yumi
Kyber
Lady Moll
Lesya Kosarev
Lyla Quinn
Lyra Vent
Maani
Maple Harte
Maria Savilia
Mathieu Brion
Maur
Mila Uhlesifa
Millu Lee
@Morrigan Vale
Muad Dib
Myrrdin_Emries
Nimue
Nine Lives
L LGMForever
Pravus Cruento
R4-AUD
Rabbit
Rann Thress
Rayne Centaris
Razelle Breuner
Redd
Ryk Gaelir
Rylan Kordel
Sabine Delacroix
Saram Kote
SC-A1
@Sergei "Jack" Jachovich
Shuklaar Kyrdol
Srina Talon
Startorn
Subject 73 Red
Taiia Locke
Talon Rahl
Talak Jenste
Tess Valnora
Teyla Sal-Soren
ToKola Bakari
Tyran Numeck
@Udrid
Uxagi Xatash
Valencia Hadley
Vanric Dannon
Vemric Keldra
Veronika Fleischer
Vess Sadragen
Vio Doni
Kyyrk
Vyse de Valorous
Vytal Noctura
Valeria de la Vallée
Cord Starfall
Telula Vale
Alluria Ivalice
Oleander Webb

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Leader of the Dawn of Hope
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Port Sorrow, Rhand
Objective I.: Rescue the slaves
Equipment: Kiss of the Red Witch | 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Kahne Porte (planned)

[ Primo Victoria ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ ​

Rhand; the red-haired woman read a lot about this planet, especially because of the Sorcerers of Rhand, whom she found them interesting. And of course they're completely crazy. Ingrid continued to think that Maw and their aspirations should be kept alive as long as possible, as this had benefited the Eternal Empire, even if they were enemies. Especially that there were some among them who wanted the same as Wardens of the Shroud.

She disagreed with their methods and the slavery; and she offered her help to CIS leaders precisely because of the recently renewed peace treaty. The woman was the kind who always helped her allies. As with the TSE, she brought an army here, from such soldiers who wanted to come; she did not make it obligatory for her men to fight for other states if they did not want to. She felt this way was fair. But there were always those who fought because of the fight itself or because the woman was there too, so they fought too. Both suited her perfectly.

She had been informed in advance of the situation on the planet, so she knew it was heavily defended. So Ingrid knew by then that she would go forward, in front of her units, as she was more useful as an agent and infiltrator than as a general or admiral. She will serve the CIS as an infiltrator again, as it used to. It evoked almost nostalgic feelings in the Empress, but soon suppressed them. This was not the time for the emotions.

That is why she arrived on the planet in disguise, two or three days before the attack. When it was easier to get down and to do some reconnaissance tasks. Until then, she surveyed the place, got to know it; it is always necessary for such work. And then she waited until the CIS and the army arrived. As soon as it happened, she could start the actual task. She was already ready to fight and signalled to CIS Command what task she was doing.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron, the little shadow-killer
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective: BYOO, try to survive (Maw side)
Location: Gehinnom, High Above Rhand
Equipment: N/A || OPBC-01m
Tag: N/A

[ Cry ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ ​

Pain, chains' sound… I could barely open my eyes. Everything still hurt, my hands chained to the wall, as did my legs. They didn’t really want to let me commit suicide, nor was they rewarded me for still fighting and not giving up after the beatings. Both my hands bandaged, not just because of my wrist, but because I cut my veins; they rescued me, they did not let me die.

My head hung down, limp, helpless, tears streaming down my face, mixed with blood, then dripping in a red or pink colour to the floor from my chin. I couldn't move in this situation either. I was in a similar situation as before, at home. It was only there that I knew I had friends who were going to save me. This is no longer the case, I could only count on myself here.

I felt another hit in my stomach and then the world darkened due to the pain…

The next moment I woke up to fall to the ground, I could still feel the shackles on my limbs, but at least I wasn’t hanging on the wall, helpless. My ribs were still aching, they didn't have a chance to heal properly because of the constant beatings. I tried to push myself up, but my hands didn’t hold me; someone knelt on my back and I couldn’t move. I moaned in pain.

Two of them pulled me off the ground, grabbing my arms, but before I could start kicking or biting, a third grabbed me in my hair and pulled my head back hard, roughly. I moaned again; it definitely took my mood away from trying anything, and this gives them the opportunity to frogmarch me.

"Something completely new awaits you today and I guarantee you won’t enjoy it!" the man who pulled my hair and head backwards laughed.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Operation Cinder: Space Battle​

Location: Gehinnom, High Above Rhand
Tags: Open

The great skyhook of Port Sorrow was a powerful innovation, a structure for the transport of suffering itself, a conduit for those within the iron grasp of the vile Brotherhood. It could ferry thousands and thousands rapidly into orbit, readying slaves for transport to various stations, ships, and planets. It could fill even the mighty Jintutai Crafthulk, the mobile forge station of the Maw, to the brim within hours. But the coming conflict had called for something greater, a vessel to transport all of those in bondage here before they could fall into the enemy's hands. Such was the Brotherhood's sinister plot, their great gamble.

Behold, the spacefaring Holy City of the Maw, resplendent in darkness!

Blessed Gehinnom drifted into orbit above the barren world, the place where it had been anchored for three long years, before its transition to Exegol. The warning of the Sorcerers of Rhand, who had foreseen this invasion with their sacred darksight, had been heeded. Now the great mobile city had made its return, its vast halls ready to receive a cargo of living flesh. The goal was simple: to bring aboard every slave in Port Sorrow, spiriting them out of the reach of the attacking CIS. If the Brotherhood succeeded, they would blunt the entire purpose of the Confederate attack. The CIS would be punished for their insolent trespass.

Of course, that plan all depended on holding the Confederates back long enough to operate Port Sorrow's space elevator, bringing the slaves into position. The Holy City had no weapons, so the Mawites had scrambled a defense fleet to accompany it during the hasty evacuation. Four Star Destroyers drifted around the colossal space station, their fighters already spreading out around them in a protective cloud. On the bridge of the lead star destroyer, the Nightmare Eternal, Taskmaster Tu'teggacha looked over the defenders, his facial tendrils lashing about in agitation. The situation reminded him uncomfortably of Korriban.

Once again he commanded a small force on a desperate mission... only this time he did not have the full might of the Fatalis to keep him safe. The huge Mawite flagship was still in drydock over Osseriton, its ravaged hull undergoing extensive repairs and refits before it could be deployed again. The Nightmare Eternal was a formidable ship, a mighty Praetorian-class crewed by tens of thousands, but its might paled in comparison to the Brotherhood's Super Star Destroyer... a ship that had nearly been destroyed the last time Tu'teggacha had been aboard it. That did not bode well in his mind for his next foray into the cold void.

But Tu'teggacha, normally uninterested in the space combat that he was all too often thrust into for lack of other fleet commanders, had a reason to be particularly engaged in this battle. He was invested in the fate of Gehinnom, the place where his favored dungeons and torture chambers lay. If the station was destroyed before it could load up its cargo of slaves - or worse, if it was boarded and captured, its living cargo liberated - all this risk would be for nothing. The Ebruchi had gladly sacrificed every ship in his battlegroup at Korriban in order to save his own life, but he was prepared to put himself in harm's way for this.

"Take up defensive formation," the Taskmaster ordered. The Star Destroyers drifted into a tight diamond around the Holy City, ready to take on attacks from any side. Thornwave and Doomsayer fighters emerged from the hangar bays, accompanied by a few squadrons of elite Divine Eagles... and wave after wave of Darkshear swarm fighters, their half-baked clone pilots closely controlled by Gehinnom's small army of Heathen Priests. The fighters moved in eerie lockstep, determined to blunt any attack made against the station - and to shoot down any shuttles and other boarding craft that might try to approach.

"We must hold them at range," Tu'teggacha commanded, "until the loading is complete. Keeping them away from the Holy City and the space elevator is paramount." Turbolaser batteries and orbital autocannons clacked into position, ready to open fire on any CIS craft that approached. The escort force might be few, but they would fight fiercely to keep the enemy back. Of course, there was always time for pleasure amid the business. Reaching out with the Force, the Ebruchi tasted the fear and anticipation rippling across the Rhand system, savoring the storm of emotion. Soon it would become even more... flavorful.

Soon these open skies would be full of terror, pain, and death. Delicious.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition / Actions

Gehinnom, the Holy City	Orbiting, Preparing to receive slaves
Nightmare Eternal, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Defensive Position
Forge of Laments, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Defensive Position
Gnashing Teeth, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Defensive Position
Mournfang, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Defensive Position

 

[The Mongrel]

Operation Cinder: Ground Battle​

Location: Rhand, Port Sorrow
Tags: Gerwald Lechner

Port Sorrow was full of screams and rattling chains.

The shadowed plains and crags of Rhand were largely desolate. There had been a native species here once, but they had vanished before the first Galactic Republic had risen, so long ago that nothing remained of them save a few scattered ruins. The infamous Sorcerers of Rhand crouched in those ruins, practicing their shadowed magics amid the bones of a long-dead culture, and had built nothing of their own in the long millennia since their founding. After all, they believed in the nihilistic Way of the Dark, the philosophy that entropy was the only true power in the galaxy.

Why build, if all would crumble in the end?

The Brotherhood's philosophy had similarities, but they had greater needs on Rhand than the small bands of Sorcerers, leading them to construct the planet's first new town in tens of thousands of years: Port Sorrow, a major hub of their slave trade. Captives brought into Mawite space after raids and conquests often ended up here, where they were sorted, broken, and sent off to the planets where they would be slowly worked to death. It was a small city of fences, chains, and casual cruelty, all bound together by the ruthless efficiency needed to keep the Mawite domain running.

That day, it was a target. The Sorcerers had foreseen it.

The dark mystics of Rhand used their Way of the Dark to peer into the future, discovering the destruction they reveled in before it ever happened. That - along with hyperspace sensors along the edges of their domain - was how the Mawites had discovered the impending CIS attack. The news had sent the always-bustling port into a new fever pitch of activity, trying to make preparations for the coming siege. The Mongrel and his Scar Hounds had come, as had many other tribes, to oversee the defense. He did not know the greater plan; as always, he trusted in the Dark Voice.

As sirens rose above the crack of whips and the screams and weeping of beaten slaves, The Mongrel ordered his tribesmen to move faster. Theirs was a key task: to move as many of these wretches through the skyhook up to the Holy City of Gehinnom as possible. To that end, they were all clustered around the great space elevator at the heart of Port Sorrow, a huge industrial platform designed to move a hundred captives or more at once in a rapid ascent to orbit. Protecting the space elevator was his most important duty in this siege, and he intended to see it through. Gehinnom would get its living cargo.

The Maw had two advantages in protecting the elevator. First, Port Sorrow itself was well-defended, with electrified fences and perimeter turrets adding to the formidable guards - not to mention the additional defenders who had recently arrived, such as a sizable detachment of The Mongrel's own Scar Hounds. Second, the CIS attackers could not merely destroy the elevator with an aerial attack, not without killing hundreds of slaves in and around it. They would have to take it the old fashioned way if they wanted to liberate the prisoners and break open Port Sorrow's wicked markets.

The Mongrel knew that the CIS would send champions to oppose him, men and women who represented their most skilled and deadly warriors. He had not faced the forces of this Confederacy before; they had been largely silent, save for a few individuals in their ranks who had shown up to oppose the Maw before. As such, the warlord wasn't sure what to expect; the CIS was rumored to host a Force order that was neither Jedi nor Sith, but trained in similar sorcerous arts. Perhaps whoever they sent would be akin to the Imperial Knight that The Mongrel had once faced.

Or perhaps it would be something entirely new.

Whatever the case, The Mongrel was ready, eager for blood. Until now, the Brotherhood had been on the offensive, making strikes across the galaxy in service to their dark crusade. Now the galaxy was finally hitting back, with powers they had yet to face finally wakening to the threat they represented. The battle on these squalid streets, stained with blood and tears, would be among the first actually waged in Mawite territory since its initial conquest. The Mongrel was determined to make it a memorable one for the rest of the galaxy. He would do so atop a mountain of corpses.

Let their champions come. Come and suffer.

The space elevator rumbled as the titanic metal platform inside descended at high speed, shielded from atmospheric heat by the carbon nanotube shell surrounding it. It was ready to be loaded once again, and the cargo was ready to set foot upon it. Long lines of slaves, taken from their durasteel cells and wooden cages, stood shackled in the dirt streets, bound at the hands, feet, and neck to those in front of and behind them in line. Their restraints were shock-equipped in case any got uppity, dreaming of rescue as the CIS arrived. Such dreams would quickly be put to rest.

One by one the lines would be forced to advance, their overseers prodding them with stun batons and shock pikes to keep them moving. Some were bound for great bulk freighters at the huge landing pads, others for smaller transports, but most would take the elevator to the Holy City high above; despite the distance to the atmosphere, the swift ascent into orbit took only minutes, enough to load thousands of slaves per hour. Dread blade in hand, The Mongrel watched the operation unfold, ready to step in as soon as the CIS interfered…

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...​

Location: Port Sorrow

Spoiler: Lightsabers

"ELOAH" (Primary - Long Handle)

"ELOHAI" (Secondary - Long Handle)

Spoiler: GEAR

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added)Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Spoiler: STARSHIP/COMPANIONS

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Dilorian and Bike both in cargo bay)
Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"

Tag: Felix Aquila Blade Ice Maestus

NABOO - In the Recent past

No, he was nowhere here his family house, that wasn’t the place he knew anymore and was nothing more than “awkward” to even visit. No, Caltin was in Theed buying clothes for some less fortunate children living in and around the Silver Rest. They were not Jedi or Wookiee, but their families worked the land and the grounds and while they were provided for in most senses, the big guy had a soft spot and wanted these kids to have some nice things that they could call their own.

It felt good to do this and it took his mind off of Lao-mon.

He was stopping by a Bistro that was ironically an institution, he visited this very same place several times back in “his time”. Of course, everything about the place was different, but there was the table he used to sit at and the sandwich. It was different from what it used to be, but that was to be expected, the drink, which brought back all of the memories. It was actually a good day to get away from being a Jedi and just being a guy, a tourist.

Then he saw the announcement.

The people of the Confederacy and their coven of Force, at least that is what he calls it, were declaring war on the Brotherhood of the Maw. It was never something he longed for, but one thing was clear, the galaxy was coming together again. The Bryn’adul started it all, at least from his view, and now this Brotherhood. It was still going to take time, after all, there were still splinters, but maybe, just maybe this could be the spark that recreates a united galaxy. Maybe it was a pipe dream, but that remained to be seen.

Rhand… they were attacking Rhand. Caltin couldn’t explain how he knew this, as there was no news of it in the announcement, but the Force was telling him this. He was being pulled to Rhand, to help them. Was it worthwhile? Maybe, maybe not. However, the Force has a sense of humor and there will come a day when he might need a favor. Besides, he has yet to pay his fines from the last time he was around government officials, it might be a good way of getting them waved. Either way, he had the fight to get to. Gripping his comm-link as he sprinted towards the spaceport, he spoke into it to something... yes... something.

"Roller", "Music", get everything ready, we're heading out!

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

 

[Kristyl Vaashe]

Location: Some big Starship belonging to the feds (C.N.S. Asajj Ventress).
Operation: Sneaky Lothcat! (Imaginary Objective).
Wearing: Kristyl's Training Robes of the Lotus.
Additional Tags: Gerwald Lechner + Others?
Rescue Target: Dreidi Xeraic (A totally real person!).

Prior to their arrival to Rhand:

'The Galaxy was a wild and dangerous place, but there was nothing that could not be tamed for this young explorer!' Kristyl narrated to herself as she began her newest mission imitating her favourite holovision programme and the star protagonist Blaze Bastian. 'Today's episode of Galaxy Ablaze see's the Saratobi Explorer's newest crew member Dreidi Xeraic abducted by the evil Kaiber Corporation in a bid to draw out and snag our brave hero's in their trap on some mysterious new world! How will they ever hope to rescue her and get free! Let's find out...' she grinned as the words were thought with dramatic exaggeration, using one of the only abilities she knew of to conceal her presence in the Force as she darted from cargo container to cargo container of the large military hangar and quietly aboard one of the transports similar to what her Big Sister had boarded.

Most Kids would have known better to stay away from such places, yet Kristyl's Mom was Asaraa Vaashe , the famed Jedi Master responsible for the teaching of many students of the Lotus Chapter of the Knights Obsidian and survivor of countless crazy battles... Thus making the youngest of the family something of a special case considering her big sister was also something of a big deal in the Confederacy (Or at least Kristyl believed!).

The transport rumbled heavily as Kris sat quietly, tucked away at the rear of the craft behind the cover of luggage and some rather expensive looking equipment. She didn't know where the shuttle was headed to but then she also knew this was what made adventuring so fun and mysterious! 'Off goes out fearless heroine, off in search of her lost crewmate somewhere amidst the stars ablaze, just like her name!' she tried not to giggle at how silly it all sounded in her head, but then she refused to think of her concocted story as anything but absolutely awesome!

The transport would soon arrive within the new Hangar of the C.N.S. Asajj Ventress, a massive warship that Kristy had never seen before now. All those aboard the far smaller shuttle would disembark, ordered to attend something called a "debriefing", giving her the best chance to sneak out and further into the massive starship in search of her big sister.

"What new deranged purpose could this enormous base be used for?" she whispered to herself in the best Core-World accent she could manage. Darting from position to position and even leaping into the odd roll across the hard metal flooring despite no one being around to warrant the dramatic flair in her performance.

"All hands, prepare to jump to lightspeed" she heard one of the uniformed men shout from down the corridor, making Kristyl's eyes go wide. 'Wait, where are we going?' she broke character and questioned silently in her head. Was the ship actually going somewhere? Shaking her head quickly, she turned around to look back at the transport they'd flown in on, and behind the vast energy shielding of the Hangar, she watched as the giant blast doors began to close in on them, the massive warship preparing to launch forth into hyperspace.

"Oh bugger...".

 

[Darth Carnifex]

- F A T H E R -​

A lone figure sat upon the bluff, the wind screeching around Him as a ferocious gale rushed through the pass. Below was the decrepit temple, jutting out from the land like a cancerous growth. Inelegant and grotesque, the temple was a jumble of non-euclidean design that defied logic and reason. In this, the temple was a mirror reflection of its occupants; the nihilistic Sorcerers of Rhand.

Long ago, the Lords of the Fringe had led an expedition to purge the Sorcerers from this very world, but like the wretches, they were are, the Sorcerers managed to crawl back from the ashes. An amusing thought, if not ironic, considering the Sorcerers' steadfast belief in entropy and the end of all things. That belief was perhaps the only permanent fixture in the cult's existence, for everything else was surely ephemeral. Life came cheap when all was consigned to the Dark.

His cloak billowed wildly as He stood, His presence a dark blot on the distant horizon. His hood tilted up towards the sky, no amount of light capable of piercing the shadowy veil which obscured His face. He could sense that they were near, those warriors of justice that sought to mete out punishment to the wicked. They would be upon this temple in due time, and the fighting would be chaotic and brutal. It would give Him the opportunity He had been looking for.

He walked slowly towards the temple, maneuvering across the uneven and dangerous terrain without much difficulty. If they had spotted Him or divined His arrival, the Sorcerers had yet to make themselves known to Him. Perhaps, in the grand maelstrom of fate that encircled the planet, their clairvoyance had been bent towards the assailants from above rather than the lone figure down below.

Regardless, He moved with caution.

His weapon, a lightsaber of dark ashen design, hung freely from His belt. The metal clinked against His armor whenever He moved a certain way, revealing its existence within the confines of His voluminous robes. His hands remained idle at His sides, poised to spring into action at the moment it was required. If events were carried out in the right sequence, He might not ever have the need to draw His weapon at all. He doubted such fortuity, that was not the way the galaxy worked. Blood would be shed by His hand before this was all over.

Still, as long as the prize He coveted was retrieved, then He would not begrudge the violence that preceded it.

 

[Ignatius Rausgeber]

RHAND
PORT SORROW
SPACE ELEVATOR FOREMAN’S OFFICE
OBJECTIVE: D I S P A T C H
U N D E R G R O U N D
Diocletian Kahmen’’a | Taiia Locke

Port Sorrow was crawling with them. Like a snake, winding its way through the confines of the facility. Slaves roused by the hundreds of thousand, frogmarched from their pens to their lift, up and onto Gehinom. And the irony of it, was that it was slaves too, who were marching their cohorts in bondage to their potential doom. Ignatius Rausgeber watched them through the filthy glass as they passed beneath him. He had seen a lot of things in his days. The horror of the Maw. The tyranny of the Ssi-Ruuvi. But it was this, which tied his stomach into a knot. Still, to some degree, he was glad to be in his rusted tower. Saved him from having to look any of the wretches in the eye.

“How many is ‘at now?” Overseer Braygar snarled, drooling over the terminal as he scoffed down another protein bar. Ignatius turned back, and glared at the Gamorrean with a gaze of utter contempt. Still, as his slave master turned back to face Ignatius, the expression instantaneously changed. Sneering at your superior officer, no matter how little brain cells he had was a floggable offence. At least in Braygar’s unit.

“That will make it,” Ignatius moved over, his right leg dragging against the plating of the docking bay foreman’s office, “Approximately,” Ignatius’ brow furrowed, “Forty six loads. Which is, presuming all denizens are the same size. Human-like, and of course malnourished, about…” He tapped his chin, “Thirty seven thousand, three hundred and eighty.” Rausgeber shrugged, “Assuming of course, congruency in numbers.”

Braygar starred at him with those beady little eyes, “A’ight.” He gargled, taking a swig from his flask, before gesturing for Ignatius to take one of his own. “How in da Force, didya git so bloody good wiff numbahs?” The slave overseer grunted, “You should be up in ‘em ships, runnin’ the joint up there, eh?” He gargled, greasy rolls of fatty lard on his stomach writhing with his joy.

Ignatius shook his head, and raised a hand, moving to the terminal and assessing his boss’ input. “No thank you.” He sighed, exasperated, before moving behind Braygar’s seat and leaning over. “My Father,” he reached over the man, to the pad, and began scrolling up and down. “Was an actuary. I never picked it up,” He conceded, with a low drawl, “But, he still gave me calculators to work wit-” He paused, and narrowed his gaze, “On shipping twelve, and thirteen. You didn’t carry the six.”

Ignatius backed up a step, and stood tall. Well, as tall as he could. Braygar scratched behind his little pig ears. “Carry da six? How’d I go ‘bout carryin’ a six?” Ignatius rolled his eyes, and sighed. But still remained calm. “It’s not even a bloody real fing!”

“You did not sir, add it in.” He paused, “If we don’t add it,” He tried to patiently explain, “Then Gehinom doesn’t have an accurate reading of the quantity of slaves.” Time to throw the dice. Ignatius took a deep breath, “Look, sir, if you would perhaps let me, I could, I could put the numbers in. Ensure the correct entry of data.” Ignatius added, biting down on his lower lip. But he already knew the answer.

“No I sharnt!” The Gamorrean seemed visibly irritated, and rounded on the ex-First Imperial. Ignatius grew pale and backed up against the rusted office wall. “Ya gonna shut ya gob, and keep workin’!” Ignatious had to suppress the glower on his face, and rather turned away. Back to watching the procession of wretches as they were strung aboard. “If I wanted, ya bloody yappin’, or ‘elp I’d ‘ave bought a droid to do it. Not you, you wimpy pillock!”

How low he had fallen. From the First Order. Where he had worked to abjectly remove slavery, and improve working conditions for those one worlds who had still kept the barbaric practice. To this. Ignatius occasionally contemplated the use of suicide as means to end this charade. But eminently had failed to find a way to do things. That, and what of his comrades. Those in the same boat. Who oft relied on his wordiness not to kill one another. Who’d heeded his medical advice.

Ignatius sighed. Watching as another shipment of slaves were hauled aboard the next elevator ride to orbit. He so wanted to help them. To relieve them of their suffering. He had sometimes thought, about trying to kill the Gamorrean brute who so often kept him in close company as a sort of manservant. How he would strangle the life out of the man. How he would perhaps bludgeon him in his camp tent. Or stab him with a smuggled kitchen knife. Of course he knew the premise was farcical. Braygar was a stronger man, skin made of toughened leather. Ignatius knew, even if he got the drop on the man, it would be hard to attack successfully, and even if successfully, get away with the crime. His eyes darted to Braygar. And then to his belt. His pistol. Perhaps if he…

An alarm cut off such murderous thoughts. Braygar, despite his rotund size roused immediately, “Bloody ‘ell, what’s all ‘is then?!” He barked, glaring at Ignatius, as if Ignatius had suddenly summoned the cacophony of noise.

Ignatius instinctively raised his hands, and hunched over, “It was not me Overseer, I swear!” Ignatius protested as the Gamorrean rounded on him, “It’s, it’s-” He spotted the ringing siren, the orange light flickering behind the man. And quickly read it. “It’s the, the orbital intrusion alarm!” He gestured past the man.

“Orbital wot?” Braygar snapped, “Yer lyin’ to me whelp, you just don’t want me ta cave yer feckless lil skull in!”

“Honest sir!” Ignatius barked, “It’s-it’s!” And just as Braygar raised his hand, the holographic display clicked on. Showing off a man, seemingly in an actual uniform, rather than the clumsy leather garb of a slovenly slavemaster. His design of uniform, and detailings immediately identified him as Final Dawn. If the Auxiliary of the Marauders were merely whelps, then the Marauders were the rabid hounds. Held of course on the taut leash by Final Dawn.

“Auxiliary Overseer Braygar.” The voice firmly and crisply addressed the Gamorrean who lowered his arm, and turned around to assess it. “This is Final Dawn Naval Intelligence, a word.” Ignatius paused, and straightened himself, “We have just received several Confederacy of Independent Systems vessels entering Rhand’s orbit. Their intentions are eminently to harm the Brotherhood. As you and your… Soldiers.” The Final Dawn naval officer didn’t seem all too convinced of their ability, “Are one of the few major armed assets within the Port Sorrow Complex, command has designated you to move any loose slaves back to their pens.” The officer sneered, “Is this clear, Overseer?”

“Ayesir!” Braygar saluted, “We’ll uh… We’ll get ‘er done!” The Final Dawn officer flickered from the holographic display and the Gamorrean turned back to Ignatius. “Well Iggy, you ‘eard the man, get your feet draggin’, and get these welps back inna cage!”

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

LOCATION: En Route to Surface
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Stormafbryder
ALLIES: CIS | Kristyl Arenais | Lunara Azure
ENEMIES: The Mongrel
PET: xxx

War was an inevitable part of living. There were those who would say it could be avoided, but Gerwald knew better. His life had been one of conflict. Yes, there had been times of peace, but they always ended. This time it was for a reason that could not be ignored.

Slavery.

Genocide.

The wolf held a deep hatred for both. Freedom was something he had come to value after having been forced to live a lie. His mother had crafted an illusion, kept him from being who he truly was for fear of something which was not true. She had made him a slave to a lie, trapped like a prisoner in his own home in many ways. Alwine, his sister, had been imprisoned because of the force. The superstitious nature of the northern parts of Stewjon had made the people he had been raised with quick to judge what they did not truly understand.

Life was too precious to treat with such an inhumane understanding. Slavery took it that much further.

Hands pressed against the surface of his desk as the CNS Asajj Ventress dropped out of hyperspace. It would not be engaging in the battle, but served as the fortified transport for the Knights Obsidian which would be joining the Lord Commander in the attack on Port Sorrow. He had seen the intelligence reports on the target. It was heavily fortified. The task ahead of them would not be easy. Once on the planet surface the teams would have to address the perimeter defenses, gain entry, secure the landing pads, and take control of the space elevator. Somewhere between all that, they needed to free, rescue, and evacuate as many slaves as possible.

They were not there to simply take control of the facility. They were there to destroy it.

Completely.

Gerwald hoped that Kiff Brayde would be able to hold up his end of the offensive. The fleet had to keep the dropships safe before taking on the monumental task of destroying the skyhook. A pit settled in the lupine’s stomach as he thought about the task ahead of the Minister of War. For both of them, this was their first major offensive in their respective positions. It would test them both.

Eyes up… and keep your wits about you today. Buy us as much time as you can… and do me a favor. Don’t die.

It was a short missive to the commander of the Confederacy Fleet. The humor Gerwald intended was likely missed in the form of text, however, it was meant to be a sign of solidarity. The wolf certainly hoped the young minister was ready for whatever tactics the Maw would throw at him.

They were an unconventional enemy, one which was motivated by something deeper than the desire for power and control. It was a fanaticism which drove them to tactics and measures unlike anything the Confederacy was used to, or so Gerwald prepared himself for.

He stood from the desk and made his way to the hangar bay. He would address the Knights accompanying him from there before they loaded and began their descent to the planet.

“This enemy is different,” he would begin, “But an enemy all the same. Their crimes are too great to go unchecked. Be sure to understand they will not hesitate to take your lives today, so do not give them any quarter. Our objective is simple, even if it is not easy. Free as many slaves as you can before destroying the port. The defenses around the perimeter must be dealt with before we can breach the location. Once we do we must control the landing pads so we can begin immediate evacuation of the slaves. Those are your priorities.”

Gerwald waited for them all to show they understood before turning on his heels and boarding the dropship.

He took in a deep breath and slowly released it.

War… it was inevitable.
​

 

[Kyyrk]

Revenge.

It was something Kyyrk had always preached against. Something to save people from. For he knew the dark paths it led down. The all consuming nature of it. How it made you less of a person. Hollowed you out until only a shell of who you once were remained. War was the antithesis to all life. And it was his life's work to end it. But peace and words would only bring you so far. Though he was loathe to take a life, there were time he knew it to be necessary. You can't save everyone. Just save as many as possible. The Force will take care of the rest. The stories say that before his conversion, he was a warrior of some repute. A leader garnering the respect and loyalty of millions.

It was time to see if he lived up to the expectation.


Location: The Grand Bone Temple
Allies: Khora || Jhira Mereel || Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Opposition: Dakrul
Objective: Cult Magick
Equipment: Armor, Lightsaber, Sidearm, Horace

Kyyrk had sealed himself away in the meditation chamber for a moment. Ever since the ship had departed Naboo atmosphere, he had not spoken with the rest of the team. Why these people had chosen to follow him, he did not know. Well, he knew why with Jhira. She was a Mandalorian. Offer the right amount of credits, give them orders that don't conflict with their code, and they'll do just about anything. But the other Mirith? It was anyone's guess. Kyyrk pushed himself to his feet, hearing the words echoing in his mind. You were called into the netherworld to finish something from your past. Kyyrk paused for a second, his violet eyes drifting over the armor before him. It was time.

Moments later, he emerged from the meditation chamber now clad in the silver-white armor. The faceless helmet hung at his side, his lightsaber and side arm adorning their places on his shoulder and thigh respectively. Kyyrk strode into the cockpit where Jhira Mereel sat, watching the ship guide itself through hyperspace. He paused at the shoulder of her chair, laying his hand on the edge of it. His piercing gaze stared out into the blue, almost as if he could see beyond it. "We'll be arriving soon. Join us in the main hold. It's time to share the plan."

Kyyrk turned and strode from the cockpit. Any form of friendliness and cheer that he'd displayed at the previous encounters with Jhira was gone. Of course, it was readily apparent that he was simply in business mode. There was no time for joy on the battlefield. Not till the fight was won. As Kyyrk entered the common area of the Allegiance, he spoke. "Eyes up, team. We're on final approach to Rhand now. The rest of the Confederate armada should already be there by the time we arrive. Our mission is to infiltrate a structure known as the Bone Temple, and destroy it by any means necessary. No one has been able to confirm what the inside is like, so we're flying blind once we arrive. What few scans we were able to obtain show a large central room. This is where we'll plant the device."

"Understand that these are the same beings that killed a planet. The same nation that enacted horrors not seen since the likes of the Death Star. They will not take kindly to this incursion, nor will they permit us to wander freely upon this planet. Do not expect mercy, do not expect compasion. If you do not fall in battle, then expect subjugation and slavery to be your future. There will be no kind treatment for prisoners here." Kyyrk paused as he looked at the gathered warriors and soldiers. "The Light of the Force will guide us. By its influence, we shall prevail. Though we need not kill them, let us wash this darkness from the galaxy. You have thirty minutes to planet fall. May the Force be with us."

---

Present Time...​

Now that Kyyrk stood upon the surface of Rhand, he found himself having difficulty breathing. His helmet's oxygen scrubbers were working at peak efficiency, so it was not lack of air that starved him. No. It was the oppressive darkness that permeated the planet. This temple before them was a gathering point. A conduit of the Dark. A place Kyyrk vowed to destroy. The hardcase backpack he wore contained the device that would make this intention a reality. Kyyrk drew a deep breath, his eyes squinting against the glare of the sun. The Temple had no direct entrances, that much he was able to discern for himself. So now he searched for an entrance to the vast network of catacombs that spun beneath the structure. The battle at the port had already begun. Kyyrk only hoped that it drew sufficient attention away from them...

 

[Diocletian Kahmen’’a]

Objective: Cult Majick
Location: Outskirts of The Grand Bone Temple, Rhand
Equipment: Ship Armour Scimitar Railgun Carbine Rifle Thermal Detonators BARC Speeder
Allies Tag: Jhira Mereel Khora Kyyrk
Enemy Tag: Dakrul

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

This was Diocletian’s first major mission since joining the CIS and the mission is to invade Planet Rhand. Apparently, the Maw was operating a slaving operation here and as the CIS abhorred Slavery they had no option but to invade to stomp it out.

Diocletian enjoyed a good fight in fact he revelled in the violence of battle, and one is brewing up nicely. He had made sure he kept the Vampire camouflaged and inconspicuous as possible behind some rocks. Why broadcast your location to generate yourself into a target.

Diocletian knew better than going into a fight without a plan or destruction without a coherent objective in mind? The last time he tried that, it went as badly as the Rodian who decided to cuddle a Hisshiss while flat out drunk. The Ubese survived the botched Bounty Hunt, but he came away from it with a great deal of injury as a result. He got a reprimand from his mother for being so reckless.

Although getting an enemy right where it hurts is a better strategy than going after a Slave Facility, leave that to those who know how to do such a thing as he himself wasn’t interested in saving Slaves. No, he wanted to do something that didn’t involve having to care about other sentients.

Now he had reached a slightly closer vantage point and using the rocks to make sure he had some cover just in case of being fired on. Even if he were his hand-held Railgun would be enough to cause damage. Besides, he was supposed to partner up with a team to take on the Temple, teamwork he can do and do well as they had a common objective in mind.

Normally, Diocletian wouldn’t go into Temples of any sort, simply as he wasn’t interested in them nor did he want to get caught in a boobytrap. However, given how bad the Maw situation has become and how the undercurrents of fear wondering if your planet is next on their agenda are also why he was here too. Nobody wants to be next. Especially when it is his family caught in the middle of it all.

Aha, there they are the group he is supposed to be with, they seem competent enough. He wouldn’t say anything out loud mind, he’s smarter than that. He is way smarter than his aggression and wanton cruelty would lead others to believe. At least that's what he hoped for.

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 1
Objective: All Along the Watchtower
Location: Port Sorrow, Rhand
Equipment: Mind Crown | Black MidNight Duster with Hood | Echani shield suit | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Defender | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | x2 FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X4 Daggers | Pack of Death sticks | Various Explosives on person and in backpack | Holopad
Allies: The Mongrel
Enemies: Darth Carnifex | Gerwald Lechner | Diocletian Kahmen’’a | Kyyrk | Zlova Rue | Jhira Mereel
Special Tags: Open

---

The Grand Bone Temple was the new built Temple of the Sorcerors of Rhand to replace their old decrepit one. It had been built by living slaves that were replaced slowly by undead slaves. It sat eerily quietly in the valley. It was completely devoid of life, only the undead remained lumbering around both inside and out. The Dark had called to Sorcerers, and they had been struck with dark sight visions of the pending future. These vision had drawn them away from the temple and across the plains the accursed city of Port Sorrow.


The Rhand Sorcerer’s where helping usher the last of the living Slaves on Rhand to carriers and the space elevator so they could be evacuated to The Holy City. Among the Sorcerror’s of Rhand was its leader an enigmatic figure within the Maw. One who long ago Had been a Sith, a member of the Krath, and was a Dathomiri witch by blood. She was a self-proclaimed God of Destruction who was fueled by pure chaos. She was sometimes referred to as Darth Sokar but these days she was just Tagan Starfall.


Her stature was diminutive only standing four foot ten (1.47M) and she would be an ultralightweight in a boxing ring. For a Sorcerer she didn’t seem to have any of the odd traits that made them intimidating or imposing. Her eyes glowed a bright sulfuric orange and her stare was cold empty like it was looking through any living person like they were nothing. Her face was painted like a skull but even then, she didn’t look like the ferocious monster she really was.


Tegan stood on one of the towers in the city watching as the Sorcerers Rhand marched slaves to the elevator. Normally the Sorcerrors were a thousand strong but only a Hundred remained to help with the slaves along with another hundred scarred men to aid them. Tegan and the Sorcerrors of Rhand already knew the fate of this battle today, they had known long before CIS arrived.


Her eyes looked out towards the Direction of the Temple they had built, she wondered if any fools dared to trespass there. The place was heavily boobytrapped and also rigged to explode if any managed to reach the inner sanctum of it. Well actually now that Tegan thought about it she hoped they would reach it even though she wouldn’t be there to see the fireworks. In war sacrifices had to be made and temples could always be rebuilt. Tegan smirked a wicked little grin as her sights returned to the ushering of slaves first.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: Operation Cinder Ground Battle
Location: Port Sorrow
Allies: Jaedec Ren Bendak Crail The Mongrel
Enemies: CIS/Open
Equipment: Kyrel's Armor, Vader's Bane Lightsaber, Kyrel's Necrochasis


The Purple Giant had at last awakened to the threat that lied within the Unknown Regions. Even Kyrel found this to be odd. The CIS had often been an isolationist nation. They did not bother when interfering in the affairs of the Galaxy. Perhaps it was something of a compliment that all it took was a band of nihilistic barbarians made up of different dark side religions outside the known galaxy to pose such a threat. Not that it had mattered of course, he had seen the rise and fall of empires and great kings crumble. Nothing would stop the Maw from completing the holy rite of conquest. Even Kyrel and his Knights of Ren would help fulfill such a journey. Besides he seemed excited to see what would happen when the journey was over and such horror is unleashed across the galaxy.

Rhand was something symbolic to Kyrel, as the Sorcerers of Rhand became the founding belief of which he restored the Ren to true form. Like those that followed the Way of Dark, he followed something similar in the Way of Shadow. Both groups had seen the same Nihilistic purpose in the dark side, and both groups had been a terror across the galaxy only by serving the dark side. With the eyes of the Silver Jedi upon them as well, it was only a matter of time until the Confederacy finally came to this world. The dead man brought his two closest Knights, Jaedec and Bendak both of whom he thought worthy to help defend Port Sorrow with fellow Mawite forces.

Rhand while a sacred place, it was only a means to an end. Such worlds would not bring the end of the unifying path that had all kept the Maw together. While defense of Port Sorrow and it's larger facilities were optional, the larger plan given by the Heathen Priests were the most priority. If the Confederacy think they were gonna play hero today, they would know how savage the Maw truly was. He expected them to come in force, try and take the facility. Kyrel had other plans, he wanted them to come, and see what a joke he would make of their mission. His own little step added to the plan known as Operation Cinder.

Within the facility, and out of it a large number of the slave had been infected with the viral pathogen Kyrel carried within his cold dead corpse. Within hours after feasting bloody chunks from several of the slaves. The infection slowly started to spread, until enough minds were reduced to ravenous hunger that it started to become an epidemic all throughout the facility. The surprise they would all find was Kyrel not simply killing a handful of slaves, but spreading his own disease like the carrier he was. Within the facility were the cries of screams, the loud banging of the reinforced doors within some sections of the facility.

Jaedec and Bendak even indulged in their bloodlust killing some slaves that were not being infected. Often granting them a prayer of the Maw before sending them to the void. While most had been defiant, others were true believers that had accepted such a fate. Unlike others in the Maw, Kyrel didn't feel the need to transport any slaves, instead such as was the way of Ren was to burn it all down. Not in a blazing infeno, but one wildfire that would spread out until all were engulfed. The CIS would simply have to leave empty handed before learning how brutal it all was.

Kyrel stood close to the landing pads, waiting for what would come. Would it be men, or battle droids? Would there be a fight worthy of his time, not like it mattered of course. His Knights preoccupied with a group of slaves seen as a sacrifice to the Avatars, with Jaedec's mighty mando axe decapitating some before bestowing the mark of the Maw in blood to they're heads. A smirk came to Kyrel's bloody lips beneath the mask as the banging on the doors grew louder, and groans of beasts hunger for flesh mixed with the sharp metal of Jaedec's axe. "Come and see."

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

LOCATION: The Fortressa
WEARING: Standard Armor
WEAPON: Lightsaber
ALLIES: Srina Talon | Darth Empyrean | CIS
ENEMIES: BotM

Csilla. Deagon had not been in power when the attack took place. The Viceroyalty had spent many hours debating action, taking in refugees, trying to clean up the mess which nations like the Brynadul and the Maw caused. It was time for that to stop. As the Vicelord, Daegon Corvinus introduced a bill to grant emergency funding to the Ministry of War, along with other pertinent divisions, to address the refugee crisis, but in this more important instance, the cause for the growing number.

The Confederacy of Independent Systems could no longer turn a blind eye to the cause of the disease while only managing the symptoms of it. While many would have expected their eyes to remain on the east of their borders, Daegon had turned his northward. The galaxy was making a statement as they attacked those responsible for the destruction of the Chiss world, and Daegon would ensure the voice of the Confederacy joined them.

Past talks between nations had not included the Confederacy leaving Daegon with only one play to make. They would attack the Maw directly with a decisive display of force. There was no better target than the growing facility of Port Sorrow on Rhand. While they were known as a place of sorcery, as the Maw’s influence in the galaxy grew, the demand for more slaves would as well. This was the moment to strike at them, to cripple their reliance on slaves.

The Demon of Thyferra could hear the words of his beloved angel in the back of his mind. Even from the day he first brought her to the home he had built for her she insisted that they would use droids where possible, and any of the staff they employed would be housed, fed, and paid well above what their duties usually received as compensation. The Angel of Thyferra, Seraphina Corvinus abhorred slavery, and Daegon echoed those feelings.

He would not remain in the safety of Confederate borders while he committed lives to the front lines. Being a strategist and tactician himself, the Vicelord would arrive on the scene prepared to oversee the entire offensive. As the proximity alarms sounded, Daegon made his way to the war room on board the Fortressa. It would be from there that he would keep a keen eye on the details of the operation.

An operation which hinged on one very important issue.

The Confederacy had to ensure the Brotherhood of the Maw could not utilize the space elevator. Someone had to ensure it was taken, and while he trusted the Lord Commander to make his way through Port Sorrow and deal with whatever defenses there were, he needed another to ensure it was destroyed. It was too crucial to leave to chance.

“Patch me through to Srina Talon ,” Daegon said as he entered the room.

Everything came to life. Naval officers stood by monitoring the fleets, while others kept in communication with the contingent of Knights Obsidian which were set to make groundfall.

“My lord, It seems Lord Commander Lechner has already begun deploying.”

“Excellent, I want to know the second our strike force touches the surface.”

Another voice followed immediately after.

“Exarch Talon is standing by, my lord.”

Daegon nodded, pausing shortly as he composed himself.

“Lady Talon, as long as the space elevator remains intact and connected to the skyhook the Maw will be able to send reinforcements, and transport the slaves on the surface to the facility above. It is crucial that we eliminate its use as quickly as possible. I believe you will have the best chance of success in doing exactly that.”

A slight pause would allow for the Echani to hear her orders.

“Take it out.”

While Daegon was no stranger to giving orders it was not lost on him that the last war they had found themselves in had been much different. Exarch Talon received her order from Darth Metus , her master. Not only had Daegon replaced him, but it was his scheming which saw the Sith removed from his position. Certainly there would be little love between them, but this was for the betterment of the galaxy. This was for the Confederacy.

Daegon Corvinus would stop the poison before it reached the borders of the nation and people he cherished dearly.

“Sir,” another voice interrupted, “ Kyyrk has reached the surface.”

The Vicelord nodded as he approached the war table.

“Good. Now, someone get me a readout on their fleets. I want every player accounted for.”

 

[Dakrul]

Location: Deep inside the Gehinnom
Equipment: Staff of Dakrul, Cursed Gen'Dai Flesh Armour, Dread Blade, Conduit shackle receiver
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Ruus Kote Ghost "Frankie" Sterling Diocletian Kahmen’’a Ket Cros Kyyrk Khora Quinn Varanin

When the Heathen Priests first planned the infernal communion to synthetical birth an immortal they experimented on a plethora of species and creatures. The problem was always the same. Even though the corpses could be reanimated its sentience couldn’t be assured.

The hellfire burned all souls unable to withstand its grinding heat into cosmic dust, specs of energy that would be used to fuel the creation of distant stars in distant corners of the void. Darths of the past had overcome this restraint in life by hardening their mind and essence for the flames. Over time, sometimes over the course of centuries able to manifest a form, and in some even rarer cases the power to lapse back into the plane of the living. The Mawites seeked to reproduce this phenomenon on scale and with much prompter results.

Their experiments failed again and again until a scouting mission into an asteroid field once claimed by an old Sith alchemist came upon favorable intel. This alchemist had done something unthinkable, he had cursed a group of creatures dwelling in tribes among the sea of stone, doomed each and every one of them. In death, these creatures while able to pass through into the next plane but couldn't be burned by the flames, couldn't dissipate, couldn’t move on. He effectively cursed a people into a purgatory. These aliens were space-born Cha’ta’ri which were promptly captured, these filthy vermin were possibly the answer to their problem.

After many more failed tries they successfully birthed Dakrul. It was entirely sacrilegious, a cosmic error, an abomination. When the freshly reanimated sithspawn had first awakened he couldn’t stop screaming for weeks. They severed his windpipe, eventually, his neck, and at last as none of them could take it any longer even his head from his body. His screams never stopped, for he yelled directly into their minds, all their minds, all the time of anyone remotely close to the undead mutant. A pitiful squeamish fear-induced scream.

The cult of priests and warlocks had to be creative, he was sentient, to be reasoned with able to comprehend verbal command and visual cues. Sooner or later they thought him language, projected conversation and incantations into his mind for days on end. The indoctrinations of their teachings induced into their creations psyche for months. After years of work and worship, they felt confident to release their monstrosity into the world. A zealous creature undead and undying able to harness and manipulate the hellfire from which he was birthed, able to pass on his gift of distorted immortal life to others.

Today their creation would take his next step in ushering in the prophesized apocalypse, both Heathen Priests and Rahnd Wizards alike agreed he was ready.

Objective: To sacrifice thousands

The shadow of their world ship drowned all of what was beneath in its utter darkness, a city of horrors had arrived at a port of no salvation. A scar in the force, a challenge for all those bearing upon them the false promises of the light. As the all mighty presence encroached in its inner Dakrul was hard at work. For he would harvest a bountiful culling today.

Loud boomed their cries through the endless halls of the Gehinnoms underbelly. Hundreds of hundreds of moaning slaves and their rustling shackles. Even louder than them the chanting of the Heathen Priests. It was a wondrous tune, a melody for the Avatars. A new chorus would join this fiendish orchestra, a voice roaring into the night, with supernatural volume, its words like knives to a chalkboard.

"War, Dakrul pledges to feed your pride with conquest and the blood of our enemy, with steel, and fire, and claws, and teeth to prove to you the ambition of the Maw. To you Death, Dakrul pledges to kill without cause or reason, to gift onto you any and all souls equally, for only before your eyes shall their weight be judged. And lastly ohh to you Rebirth, you bringer of freedom, your breaker of chains, to you Dakrul gives his all, all those conquered, all those killed, and all those that with your blessing are returned onto this plane."

He would continue to repeat his prayer, again and again, and again.

A ritual was being put into motion. Vile darkness was in the air. Even for a place as horrid as these dark chambers in this dark city, it was overwhelming. Black smog lay like a morning fog at their feet as batches of dozens of slaves at a time were equipped with conduit shackles.

Farther down the dark gangways a chamber and a pit, lit by a circle of runes aflame with a blue pyre. In its midst was the origin of the obscene conjuration. Dakrull the Faceless Hunger, a three-meter towering monstrosity of rusted iron and rotten flesh stood chanting into the night. His frame punctured by a large crystalline, the receiver to the siphon he would call forth. Lining the walls of the ceremonial hall stood Heathen priests, busy with their spell weaving.

The first slaves were now introduced into the terrifying enclosure, with loud thuds and breaking bones their frail bodies were plunged into the ominous chasm.

The raised staff of necromancy in his wretched three-fingered digits came thundering down upon the obsidian stone at the bottom of the cavity. Sparks of energy erupted all around.

"Holy Avatars, witness Dakrul"

​

An ominous black crackling cloud would form at the edges of the mighty floating palace, onlookers from below would feel the creeping sensation of the darkness. Death and decay, torment and suffering, hatred and pain. It was undeniably clear something utterly terrible was being done upon the world vessel.

 

[Zlova Rue]

"She's not coming, you know."

The feminine voice called out from off to one side from a red and black figure perched atop a pillar of stone. One knee-high booted leg dangled over the edge with an arm atop it. The Twi'lek's golden eyes turned toward Carnifex as he strolled across the surface of the planet. One of Zlova's most powerful abilities was to cloak her very existence from others. It wasn't impervious -- inevitably you found someone with a stronger counter that forced you to become stronger in turn -- but it served its purpose. That being an early arrival before the navy and the dropships and the explosions started raining down on the planet.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find out certain elements had an eye on the so-called Grand Bone Temple here. Then again, the Confederacy did love dabbling in the mystic arts. Not that you could tell it with their lust for droids. Well, if they were going to send some poor souls to such a place then far be it from Zlova not to head there first. Check for evidence of a Blackwing plague left to swallow the hapless invaders -- that kind of thing. After all, these Maw Sorcerers liked dabbling in the mystic arts too. A healthy lust for experimentation from what Zlova heard.

It was more of a surprise to find The Carnifex of all people here, though. Zlova knew him -- specifically his presence as the man's features were concealed in darkness -- though she doubted he would say the same about herself as Darth Siron. So many Dark Lords, so few worthy of Carnifex's time. Sad tale of a Twi'lek's raise cut short by betrayal. Not that she'd sought to join the Ruling Class of the Empire; though she wouldn't have refused if the opportunity presented itself.

"A great host marched off in the direction of the Elevator some time ago. If you came here for the leader of their Witches, we'll need to do more than darken the temple doorstep to attract her attention." Zlova paused to smile. "Claiming her Sanctuary, disarming whatever trap lay in store for us, and then performing a rite that sets the spirits howling might work. If you're here for her." Just what was the man here for, the Lethan wondered? A man like him hadn't come all this way to just butcher people. She had, but only to keep her blade from rusting from disuse. Also whatever interesting artifacts were left behind, of course.

Engaged: Darth Carnifex
Informative: Gerwald Lechner | Tegan Starfall | Kyyrk | Dakrul
Equipment: Armor, Twin Lightsabers, Commlink

 

[Jhira Mereel]

Destroy Temple

LOCATION: Port Sorrow, Rand
Objective 3: Destroy Bone Temple. Survive. Don’t kill civilians.
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar’gam | Weapon load out
Allies: [ Kyyrk ] [ Khora ] [ Diocletian Kahmen’’a ]
Opposition: [ Dakrul ]

Jhira lingered in the cockpit, watching the stars drift by. She glanced up, as Kyyrk entered, but didn’t reach for her helmet. Her instincts just would not register him as Aruetti, despite all she knew of him. Or perhaps because of it. A half smile formed, as she took in his glorious silver-white armor. An approving nod followed; yeah, silver was his color. The look hovered somewhere between arrogant Jedi robes and stubborn Mando tradition, a down right perfect look on Kyyrk.

The cool, professional demeanor did not bother her, even when he stood right behind her. But there was no room in him for the pre-battle banter that so often took place in a tight knit squad. But then, like her, he was here with strangers. Standing, she slid her helmet on, and followed a pace behind and just far enough to the right she’d have a clear shot.

Ret’lini. Just in case. Old habits died hard.

The lovely green-hued mirilith from the ball, and a warrior she didn’t know awaited Kyyrk. She nodded a somber greeting to each, but as Kyrrk hadn’t even assigned them call signs she mentally dubbed the force users Purple and Green, she and the warrior bucket head and flat head. Hey, it made things clear. The briefing was short, sharp. Painful, because as often as leaders used those same phrases as meaningless rallying cries, they were bitterly true this time. Still, she’d have brought a few explosives of her own, if she’d known demolition work was upcoming.

“I can run a tactical net through my Control suite,” she offered. She was certain that both Kyyrk and the warrior had HUD systems that would be easy enough to link. Lady Khora was a mystery to Jhira; her T-visor pivoted to face the green toned Mirith, angled to convey her question.

Accurate analysis of lode bearing structures helped bring a building down, so after the task of being certain they didn’t shoot or misplace each other, she spent the time until arrival swapping out her skill chip from land-based navigation to architecture, though she did so in company with the team, trying to get a feel for their steadiness and the state of their reflexes.

Ret’lini.

Present time …​

The handing had been hair raising; kriff’ing Force Users, no mass movement was ever hidden from them. A giant, re-fitted asteroid masquerading as a Space Station, four Star Destroyers, including the Nightmare Eternal, a deadly ship even Jhira had heard about. Hundreds of star fighters, and she hadn’t even seen their Force contingent yet.

And if they weren’t up there, they were down on this barren, revolting hunk of rock. Pain and misery was in the line of every building, the despairing cries that reached them somehow, even where they now stood. She keyed her highly encrypted COMMs, to speak to her team mates who had chosen to tie into the tac-net.

COMM to tream: ⌁ Tunnels, ⌁ she said thoughtfully. ⌁ “If you want quiet. Or I can get us all up top, but it won’t be quiet. Ascension Device and Jet Pack are fast, but not subtle. ⌁


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[Jason Breaker]

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Location

Near the border of CIS space.

Equipment

1st task force

Tag

N/A​

The 1st task force was conducting normal border patrol operations on the edge of CIS space. Tensions were high thanks to the recent declaration of war, so it was no surprise when everyone jumped as the long range comms officer of the Hellfire shouted, "FLASH TRAFFIC, EMERGENCY ACTION MESSAGE! Jump to Rhand system and begin invasion protocol. ROE: All Maw and Maw allied ships designated hostile and cleared to terminate with prejudice."


And so it began. Jason had lead combat operations before, but this would be new. A full scale invasion of a planet with enemy fleet combatants ready and waiting was unlike anything he had experienced. He began to command, "Reactors to 115%. All hands prepare for synchronized fleet jump." He gave the command to jump, and the light outside the bridge twisted and warped.


Soon enough, the light pulled itself back together into a sharp view of the Rhand system. As the rest of the fleet popped into existence around the Hellfire, the massive ship shuddering as it released squadron after squadron of fighters.

"Divert power to forward shields and railguns. Fire on my mark... Mark." ordered Jason, as the opening rounds of the space battle flung themselves through the black.

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[The Mongrel]

Operation Cinder: Ground Battle​

Location: Rhand, Port Sorrow
Allies: Ignatius Rausgeber | Tegan Starfall | Kyrel Ren
Foes: Gerwald Lechner | Caltin Vanagor

Confirmation came from the sensors of the small fleet escorting Gehinnom: the CIS had arrived in the system. Their dropships were inbound toward Port Sorrow, and rumor had it that advance forces had already reached the Grand Bone Temple. No matter. Those foolish enough to enter would be shredded by traps and torn apart by the living dead... and if they did succeed in plumbing its depths, perhaps even destroying the dark place of power, The Mongrel would be the last one to care. He put little stock in shadowy mysticism, preferring the power of the beast and the machine.

Besides, anything that delayed the CIS from their arrival at Port Sorrow only aided the Maw's ultimate plan. If Gehinnom could be fully loaded by the time the Confederate forces breached the spaceport's defenses, the entire reason for the enemy attack would be whisked away, the slaves being spirited off beyond the invaders' grasp. Even now, as the dropships loaded up and prepared to descend, two hundred slaves stepped onto the space elevator. Prodded by brutal guards, they stepped away from the walls... and the platform flew up at impossible speed, vanishing into the ashen clouds.

Two minutes to ascend, three to unload, two to come back down, three to load again. In ten minutes total, two hundred souls were brought aboard Gehinnom; if they could maintain such a pace, it would be over a thousand loaded per hour. And that wasn't counting the bulk freighters on the landing pads, even now being loaded with a few hundred prisoners each. They wouldn't have to hold the CIS for too long in order to get all of their sentient property out of Port Sorrow, not at this rate. And if the Confederates dared to board the Holy City, trying to liberate the slaves there, the Maw would fight them tooth and nail. Let them try to take the station.

Looking around the slaver port, The Mongrel was confident that they would be able to hold the space elevator long enough to complete their grim work. The horrific Kyrel Ren and his Knights were present, apparently enacting some dark ritual with some of the unfortunate prisoners as fuel. Nor was he the only wicked mystic, for the necromancer witch Tegan Starfall was also present. The Mongrel had seen her vile arts unleashed before, and the thought of the walking dead she could command made even him shudder. Nor was she alone; many Sorcerers of Rhand stood with her.

They awaited the end of all things, even their own planet.

Glancing over at the narrow streets leading up to the skyhook elevator, The Mongrel caught sight of the brutish Overseer Braygar, who had apparently found himself an assistant. The slave-soldier was skinny, a head shorter than the warlord, and walked with a limp... and yet The Mongrel found himself intrigued. There was something in the man's bearing, and in the way he spoke, that indicated he was worthy of being noticed. The Mongrel would have to keep an eye on that one; perhaps he would prove useful, a marauder he might want to absorb into his own tribe. Or perhaps he'd die in the next hour.

The platform came back down, and the overseers began shoving the next slaves in line toward the space elevator. Word had come down from above: more CIS ships were arriving, firing the opening salvos of the conflict high above. Of course, if they targeted Gehinnom itself, they would be murdering thousands of the slaves they had come to save... a problem that was only enhanced with each rise and fall of the skyhook platform. "You'd better hurry," The Mongrel hissed, grinning nastily up at the sky behind his durasteel mask, "or there will be no weaklings left for you to save."