Dominion Broken Steel | Reclamation of Mandalore & Concordia | NIO

[Nukth Kelga'an]

CONCORDIA

OBJECTIVE I | OPERATION BROKEN STEEL
OPPOSING | SITH REMNANTS
AREA OF OPERATION | FORTRESS IMPERIOUS
Trajan Fett | Hakon Fett | Hans Rennagen | Izoshi | Djorn Bline | Djonas Val | Jerec Yularen
​

Nukth Kelga'an were in one of the shuttles. He was confident in his men, and in House Hasklers. The captain was pretty sure that everything would gonna be all right, as always. He nodded silently, probably busy with the communications into his helmet. Attaching his SFR-58 to his front package, he walked slowly to the port side door after a last head nod and he leaned over the void. He looked at the battlefield under his feet. Everything was calm, for the moment. After making sure that everything was under control, he took a look to his troops and informed them:

"Get ready. Landing in thirty seconds."
"I can assure you that it will be a warm up, Cap'. Don't worry about that." said a trooper throughout the comlink.
"I'm not worried about that, Double-Five. But this is your last chance to read the briefing."
"Uuuh...I hate briefings, Cap'."
"As you want. Landing in twelve seconds."

He switched to Jerec's comlink and alerted him:

"On my way, Jerec. Everyone's oscar-kilo on my board. Banshee ready for landing."

After receiving collating from his comrade, he continued the count with his hand and in his mind: five, four, three, two, one...deployment!

He jumped through the airs and positioned his body as he can. The Sith's bunker became bigger, bigger and bigger. He took a look behind him and he verified his troops positions. Everyone was here, 'ready to landing', as he said. Forty meters before the ground, he opened his motorised parachute and it deployed immediately.

"OK, phase two, on my way." he thought.

He landed in a sort of meadow and he touched quickly the ground with one of his hands and looked at the surroundings.

"Bad, very bad landing."

He pulled himself together and began to run as he could reach rendezvous point.

"Here is Banshee-Leader, are you receiving me, Kyber-Leader?"
"Affirmative Cap', landing in ten meters. Is everything all right?"
"Affirmative I'm just...a few meters on your north."
"How much?"
"Fifty, in the worst case."
"Cap'..."
"OK, OK, it looks more like three hundreds." grunted the captain.
"Copy that, Boss. Ho, right, I can see you on my HUD. There are some of my men on your way. Sorry boss, I must leave you, I have a job to do."
"That's OK, Kyber. I'm reaching rendezvous point. Over."
"Wilco!"

He ran two hundreds meters at this rate and suddenly stopped his rush to analyse combat situation. Two patrols running on the North part of the buildings and one of his men on the battlefield, with another one joining his position. That should do it. He contacted the trooper with him, talking in their language:

"Raloth fiirkarg." [Attack this troops.]
"Copy that." answered the trooper.
"Three...two...one...go!"

The two men got up in the same move and eliminated them in a few bursts. Nukth ran to the wall.

"Gret gurir." [Gathering on my position.]
"Yes sir!"

The second trooper joined them and they took out their grapples. The three troopers climbed the wall in just a few seconds and arrived on the famous rendezvous point. Nukth contacted Captain Jerec Yularen:

"Here is Banshee-Leader. We've just reached Bravo point with three of my platoons. The last one is on a commando mission to make ours easier."​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

II
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE

Objective 3 - PACT TO KILL

MANDALORE SECTOR,
ABOARD THE NIV TREGESSAR

Key Speakers: Irveric Tavlar Willan Tal Halketh Enlil Caarlyle Rausgeber Onansi of Thyrsus
Dorin Nalju Julius Haskler

Having been blocked off and convinced by the Tregessar's guards to go back the way he came, under encouragement to tell his 2IC to shut up more often, Barran would be marched back to Prefsbelt Command's flagship under guarded detainment, and by then, without protest. Gielen was the more-vocal of the pair, but mostly because he was the one of the pair who'd taken the most kicks to the shin for his multiple trip-up attempts, but in the end, the tall, brooding fellow with the most to say ended up being the main voice of reason that Erskine would be willing to hear out; the other, unintroduced and thus remained unnamed to the Galidraanis, would mainly offer small input and take orders from Gielen, seemingly accepting the other's seniority on the job. Once they'd reached the entrance doors to the ship's conference-hall, the guardsmen would of farewells and handshakes before turning to leave the nobles where they stood, marching back to their station with as much haste as would be expected of units who'd been too far from their posts for too long.

The guards at the doors to the debating hall for the evening would take their cues from there, opening the double doors as Gowrie shoulder-shunted him inside, practically body-checking his Lord-Commander into his obligations as the guards raised their eyebrows silently, both completely unaware of the ethnic traits that separated Woad and Tuath alike from the rest of the galaxy's many human haplogroups. The Kellas, leaving the Stormchaser to do his duty as a reluctant politician, would allow the venue's security-detail to close the doors and give Lord Aron the peace and quiet he'd almost driven Lord Erskine insane to earn for himself, gladdened that his cunning ways had worked like a charm in the end.

The room would fall silent in the wake of his entrance for a second time, and though he was the root of such collective wordlessness this time as much as the last, Lord Erskine would not venture to shout across the room at the first untruth he heard, deciding instead to nod respectfully and shake whatever hand reached out to shake his own on the way to the Galidraani Free-State's podium. Making eye-contact with Lord Haskler on the way to the podium, Barran nodded respectfully, but held the Anaxsi's gaze as he finally sat down next to Lord Tal for (what was set to be) the remainder of that day's proceedings. In hearing that the mutterings were sustaining their low volume for a while, the Woad took his chance to stand and speak whilst the likelihood of being interrupted was at it's lowest, standing as he began with,'I offer my warmest greetings to all in attendance here today, but it is obvious that residual issues cling to this space like wine-stains, so I offer my sincerest apologies for my conduct during the last session.... But my temperament is as far as my apology should wander, for my position remains as resolute as ever.'

Holding his hands aloft for calm and quiet so he could finish, the Stormchaser heard the murmurs beginning to crescendo before making his efforts to hush them, (and to decent effect) also giving the room a chance to let the statement simmer in their minds a little as the Woad's eyes returned to those of the Anaxsi, analysing the measure of one who's ambitions appeared to rubbing some of the other speakers the wrong way. Haskler had many grand designs on the future of the exiled-Anaxsi contingent, with a vast array of warfighting vessels, along with a growing family of mechanized and infantry contingents; a handy ally in times of war, this Erskine knew for a fact, but the fact he was proving to be a nuisance factor on the political front was bringing Barran to the assumption that Julius was capable of becoming quite the rival in the future.

'Though the discord between right-honourable speakers can sometimes be palpable, it genuinely does not affect how our troops on the ground feel about each other, thus I ask that we assume any-and-all discord to be exclusively between the right-honourable members of the New Order's Grand Assembly. If you've heard what the Woads on the ground have to say about all the New Imperial contingents around them, you'd understand what I mean.... Whenever perceived political rivals pull through for their counterparts, it would seem almost wild to consider that opposing New-Imperial ideologies care for what their big-wigs say about each other, especially when the blaster-trails are flying by their heads. Our differences, as far as I've been able to see, only affect the people who involve themselves in our debates. That is the only remaining thing I really have to say on the matter, but as for the other matter-'
Certainly a more-nuanced take than,"YoU'rE StAnDiNg oN eViDeNcE O' SuCh aS We sPeAK!", anyways.

Everyone had his attention by then, all the key-speakers would shift in their seats as if to prepare for something wild, something Barran would be an idiot to miss with his excellent 20/20 vision. Slightly disappointed in that reaction, though knowing fully that he brought it upon himself by going full-Woad on a fellow Speaker of the Grand Assembly, Lord Erskine exhaled dejectedly, shrugging his shoulders with acceptance before concluding his opening statements on the issue of which outside faction the New Order would benefit from working with the most. Looking left to right once more, Tal's warfighter-in-chief confidently concluded,'I know that we're really hard pushed to find a reliable ally in this galaxy, though I'll express my gladness that the diplomatic-relationship with the Galactic Alliance survived the Second Battle of Ziost - I struggle to find any who can stand and fight alongside us in such a fashion.... None we particularly like anyways, and as we know, that would involve making peace-pacts that would realistically make everyone's blood boil in anger. Just sayin'!'
​

​

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CONCORDIA
STARRING | Izoshi

What he was able to accomplish seemed simple and easy by the eloquence of his capabilities, but the truth was everything came with patience through careful observation. That's what separated the best in his occupation from the doomed chaff. It required unconventional methods outside from the regular soldier that were too incompetent to understand due to their basic training. Of course, the best of the best were tasked with the most delicate operations that tested their physical and mental capabilities. Even with advanced technology and gear, it wouldn't guarantee a successful mission.

His hike upon the mountain led him to exactly where the two operatives were destined to meet. It didn't matter if they were early on schedule or were right on the dot, what mattered was not being late upon the parameters of their mission. Like a sore thumb, she was there in uniform belonging to the enemy as a part of her disguise. Obviously, didn't do much to retain heat to keep her body warm. Crimson eyes were gazed back from his sapphire, although hidden upon the visor of his helmet.

Kept you waiting, huh?

"Good, just what I like to hear," skipping the pleasantries as it had been months the two operatives had been around each other. All their corners were covered as Izoshi had access to all if not, most S-IMP frequency channels. Both operatives climbed the mountain to where Izoshi descended from, Djorn's hand went to grab her arm to help her balance.

"I keep on forgetting Chiss aren't resistant to the cold," some small talk, breaking the ice between the long months of isolation for Izoshi from the New Imperials.

"Through there?" indicating to the ventilation grate she had come from. "Hopefully it's not too tight for my liking, c'mon."

 

[Rika Hiro]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR

[PROCESSING]

"I would take the boy to the doctor."

The replicant acknowledged punctually. Its hand resting on the chair arm and tapping rhythmically in a machine-like accurate manner meant nothing to the replicant as it was not gifted the ability to make life only take it away. Love was as foreign a concept as sorrow or rage; the absolute only point was servitude to the state. If such a concept as familial bond stopped a servant of the order from carrying out the paramount duty of spreading Imperialism, then they were better off retired. She observed the commissioner's scars that ringed the side of the man's face, how Mr Harrsk earned them the replicant did not know nor care as it served no purpose to the imperative cause. She had earned scars and catastrophic injuries plenty and had come back to service each time, as good and as pure as the day her model was born. The replicant wondered why the humans called her kind freaks and impure when the ERIS project Hrds were not held back by superficial scarring or the rigours of mortality. One day Harrsk would leave this world, be it via the cause of others or simply old age, but Yubari would remain forever.


"Do you have a boy Mr Harrsk."

Jaeger Harrsk ​

 

[Izoshi]

D E M O N S
W I D O W M A K E R
"CORPORAL RAZSHI" - UNDERCOVER
// KILL THE POWER \\
Djorn Bline

"Please, we can work on the logistics of warming me up later," she remarked back to him with a soft snicker, nodding in appreciation all the same as he aided her trek given her polished boots were not meant for the treacherous landscape they ventured through, "but it's tight, you're going to have to push your pack in front of you." The chiss hummed as she paused just beneath the grate, turning her head to peer at him after. "Give me a boost, pretty please?"

When he braced himself against the rocky ledge and cupped his gloved hands, she planted a foot into his grip and reached up, using his added strength to catch the lip of the shaft and hoisted herself up gracefully. Once as much was done, she would take his pack, easing his weighty burden for the time, and hooked her steeled toes around the corner as she took a prone position, offering both of her arms down for him to jump and grasp so she, in turn, would help him make the climb. Their typical, efficient sort of maneuver.

Once inside of the shaft, Djorn would see every bit of what Izoshi meant when she said it was tight; there was barely any room for her to slither through, much less his larger, armored frame. So long as he kept one arm forward, pushing his pack, he would be just fine. Hopefully. "It's fifty paces straight ahead with a slight incline upward on the last twenty. Let's keep it hush-hush, I'd hate to not hear the lethal gases surging through to kill us." It was a dark joke, but one she made regardless, flashing a smirk over her shoulder. At least now, as she climbed, she was warming back up. Her shivers had subsided. Without waiting for him further, the chiss pressed on, worming her way across the polished steel until she approached the same grate used to infiltrate the shaft in the first place.

Careful eyes darted beyond the metal and she tilted her head, listening closely for the echo of footsteps either ascending or descending the stairs. When she met silence she nodded and curled her fingers through the bars, carefully placing the grate onto the floor of the stairwell and easing herself out into a crouch. "I stashed my equipment in the bin under the stairs there, watch the door. And, I'm uploading the maintenance schematics to your device now- just in case we get separated. The target location is marked." ​

​

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective IV | BYOO | ON THE TRAIL OF Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt

Bright2
​

The grievous scar across her neck only slight made him narrow his eyes at it. The mark of a lightsaber, one he had witnessed innumerable times before, yet the scar bore rather unnatural characteristics; sabers were usually known for their precise, clean cuts - this one looked like unholy punishment. The lady said as much. As she rose the mug for a cheer, he rose his in return and took barely a sip.

"Amon, of Clan Vizsla." the Mandalorian introduced himself. Ordo was a clan wealthy of history, both ancient and recent. One Ordo had claimed the title of Mand'alor when he had just been a child before he succumbed to the will of the Dark Emperor, enthralled to do the bidding of the Sith. The recent iteration of the United Clans of Mandalore, led by the Pretender Yasha Cadera, shared a similar fate - her actions of cozying up to the Sith had let the Mandalorians vulnerable to the genocide that the Sith later enacted upon the proud warrior people.

History repeats itself. Once, Amon had believed with fervor that he could break that cycle. To eventually lead the Mandalorians in breaking these chains of destiny and forge their own fate. Once, before he had become become a soldier of three armies - The Silvers, the New Imperials and lastly the Alliance - in his quest to deliver vengeful retribution upon the Sith for their actions.

Now? He definitely seemed more lost than Azula, of Clan Ordo.

She, at least, seemed to have a purpose. Amon wondered how long before she came to the same dead end as he did.

Another glance towards her now concealed scar, though, could potentially change that for him. A purpose? It was a far-fetched, fledgling thought in his subconscious. One he, nonetheless, decided to pursue.

"The years have not been kind to us, warrior."

"They haven't, no." he curtly nodded, then shifted his gaze from her neck back to her eyes, "The Jetii have knowledge of dealing with the Sith's...magic, if that is the source of your predicament."

"Too prideful to ask them?" Amon asked, his tone as neutral as a stone. There was no judgement, there was no critique. Merely observation.

Bright2

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: SIA Headquarters, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: BYOO
ALLIES: IVI

“My knowledge of Tavlar’s plans is as imperforate as Commissioner Harrsk’s knowledge of yours,” Tithe replied. The Alliance and New Imperial Order were formal allies and collaborated on matters of joint benefit, though both stopped short of making the full extent of their military planning known to the other. While the NIO had advised the Alliance they were making a move on Mandalore as the courtesy and an opportunity to warn any deep-cover assets on the planet, the motives of the Imperator remained unknown.

Fulfilling a deal with the Sons of Mandalore did align with what he was seeing. Tithe was, unfortunately, well acquainted with the Sons. They’d tracked him, then a Sith-Imperial Moff with plans to defect, to his fortress on Orinackra and escorted him back to the NIO. His subsequent meetings with members of the NIO leadership had paved his way back to the Core without fear of prosecution for his actions while working for the Sith Empire.

“The price of besk’ar should be through the roof, and yet it’s stable. Simple supply and demand,” the Vice Chancellor explained. With the NIO seizing Mandalore and Concordia, existing supplies lines would quickly dry up, sending buyers into a frenzy. “Someone is manipulating the market, and I want to know why.” Knowing who would also be interesting, though Tithe couldn’t care less if it was a friend or any ally doing it.

Just so long as he also stood to profit from it.

 

[Bright2]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 4/ BYO​

Now she had a new for the younger man, Amon, a Vizsla no less. Funny, she didn't have many kind things to say about Vizsla's back when Mandalore was still intact. Of course, the Mandalorian people had never been more divided it seemed. Hell, it was getting hard to tell who was even true Mando'a blood and spirit, and who just liked the armor aesthetic. She gave a respectful nod, the faint smile showing itself again. Azula knew of how bad it was to be Mandalorian, to be one of the 'true' bloods, who wanted to see the clans united. It would never come. In fact, she could guarantee it. It was why she focused on getting her own clan back together, and avoiding the petty squabbles of the younger warriors. Family was all that mattered in the end, especially when you had no clan left.

"It's good you can admit it. Too many try and act as if they can weather any storm. We might be warriors, but no spirit is forged of Beskar. It chips away after a time, that's why you need people to rely on. Be it your Vod, or a close friend." She added, rubbing the side of her temple as she felt a headache coming on. Was it time for her routine injection already? It was going to have to wait. "Don't fret if the future looks bleak. It took me several years to get to this point, and I still haven't reached my goal. But I'll get there, eventually." She said, her posture straightening, as the man suggested she find treatment for her wounds. It stirred a mighty laugh from the Mandalorian, starting as a string of giggles into a deep chuckle, before a pain in her side prompted her to stop. "Not out of pride, acceptance. These wounds are a punishment for my failings, and truth be told, I doubt they can fix what's wrong with me. It's more complicated than a collapsed lung and old age. Sith poison, that force nonsense at work, as my doctor calls it." Her eyes remained locked with his, the look of a veteran was held there, and the stories she could tell were no doubt of great number. "I'm not exactly in their good graces, like many of us, I've got a past. And I'd rather not spend the rest of my days in a cell." She still had the brand of Levo marked on her lower shoulder. She had tried to cover it with the Ordo tattoo she sported, but the burnt flesh refused to be silenced. The result was a clash of her two lives, rending and deforming one another, a perfect retelling of what she had accomplished in her time on both sides. "I believe you can relate, Amon." Her smile flicked to that of a grin, raising her glass once more, before sipping it.

Amon Vizsla

​

 

[Grey Rusken]

CONCORDIA

OBJECTIVE: BYOO/OPERATION BROKEN STEEL

OPFOR: SITH REMNANT

​

"Is there a limit to a man's suffering? How does one comprehend the very fringes of fragility? A slug to the kneecap, perhaps?" Grey pressed the muzzle of his revolver into the already broken leg of a lonesome Sith cultist, kneeling over him. Watching him squirm. "I came back into this... shithole pretty pissed off, absolutely miserable. Retched up from the bowels of nightmares incarnate. You know what that's like?" Hammer cocked, Grey squeezed the trigger and observed as the man's leg remained attached by mere strands of sinew and muscle.

The screaming was comical to Grey. For what misery he could pry out of this Sith filth, his vocal range was considerably lacking. "Oh come now, did that hurt? You've not even the slightest inkling of what real screams sound like." Another round discharged, but this time the muzzle was pointed at the Cultist's stomach. "What a mess. Such a shame, you lasted a few seconds longer than most." Another round to the brain.

​

Looking down at his victim, Grey shook his head in silence and let out a sigh. "This was pointless. Ah fuck it, time to clear the rest of them out." Clearing his throat, he looked around briefly before stepping over his brutalized plaything. "Grey, you've wasted entirely too much time here. What about the objective?"

"Mhhhhm. I'm very aware of that."
"We need to get moving."
"Okay."
"Now."
"You're annoying."
"You're inconsistent."
"Fuck off, NIC."
"Just... get the show going, will you?"
"Finnne."

"Fuckin' AI in my head, sheesh."
"I heard that."
"Bet you did, can you see this too?"

Grey held his middle finger out in front of his face.

"Mhm."
"Good."

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
MANDALORE ORBIT, NIV 'Ishin-Il-Raz'
Rika Hiro

Jaeger was about to read the next question, the readings on the screen illuminated across his sunglasses, when Asa's own question took him aback. His lips formed a thin line and the cigarette in his hand remained static, the smoke lazily weaving upwards sucked in by the ventilation shaft.

"Do I have a boy?" he repeated the question, almost as if trying to reassure himself that she had truly asked him the question. Harrsk paused, weighing his options. Project ERIS knew nothing of emotions, at least not in the sense sentients did. They acknowledged their existence but did not understand them further than their intricate protocols allowed them to. Or so he was told. Frankly, Jaeger concluded, he could simply ignore answering the question and continue with the test. However, perhaps out of curiosity, he did decide to answer, "I don't, no."

A thin smirk pulled at his lips, "You'd be a mad man to bring a kid from a psycho like my ex-wife." there was an almost inaudible undertone of regret. Behind the indomitable wall of imperial stone, still lied a human being, a man with the natural wants and needs that every man possessed. Especially one from the Harrsk lineage, where the idea of family as a pillar of civilization and values was on the highest of pedestals. Nonetheless, the heat of the frustration of his regrettable situation in regards to relationships, off-spring, and the like had cooled off over the years. Whether it was his age or the endless work to do as the reason for that, Jaeger wasn't completely sure. Nor did his thoughts linger over that anymore as it did a few years ago.

He took a long drag of his cigarette to scorch the ancient tribulations and blow them away with the smoke of nicotine before he adjusted in his chair and continued with the test.

"You're watching television. Suddenly you spot a wasp crawling on your arm. How do you react?"


a) I scream, then grab the closest object to me (which happens to be a can of sunscreen) and beat the hell out of it
b) I swat it away
c) I kill it

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective IV | BYOO | ON THE TRAIL OF Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt

Bright2
​

Azula's words rang true. Needing people to rely on - Amon could never admit it and he always saw himself as a lone wolf. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder, in retrospect, that perhaps he had always, at least subconsciously, sought some companionship. Even if in the end he'd abandoned all bond in his reckless pursuit of his goals. When he endeavored to be the change for the Mandalorians, to use their skills as the best warriors the galaxy has known, to fight evil in the ranks of the Silver's Antarian Rangers, Amon had formed a strong bond with Setter Ryburn and Tulan Kor , along with the rest of Task Force Raider. He deserted that bond in pursuit of vengeance against the Sith by joining the Sons of Mandalore, where he had forged a brief relationship with Meshla Detta ; and while he never admitted it to himself nor to her, he had fallen in love with the woman, only to abandon her by joining the Alliance Defence Force's 104th after growing disillusioned with the Imperials. And when the 104th was decommissioned, Amon had remained without a single purpose. And yet, here he was, on the trail of the 104th's commanding officers - Maynard and Loske Treicolt. Azula had a point.

Locking gazes with the ISB agent, she suddenly seemed to him incompatible with the impeccable, white uniform of the Imperials. There was a flame in her eyes that only stirred in a warrior's soul, one that could not be contained by order. One that relished in chaos. One that ruled chaos.

He raised his glass, as well, but this time he didn't take a sip. Instead, "Accepting the reality of things - I can respect that." he remarked, unintentionally acknowledging Ulahn's earlier observations on Maynard and Loske. Maybe it really had always been just about Loske to the Wolf, and maybe, just maybe, they didn't want to be found.

Maybe that wasn't his purpose, after all.

"I still know a few Jedi who would be benevolent enough to help, rather than lock you in a cell; should you change your mind, that is." Amon offered, slid the mug a few inches away, and rotated his whole body to face her fully, leaning with one hand on the counter, "So what's that goal you mentioned?" maybe in this journey, the Vizsla veteran might find his own goal.

 

[Bright2]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 4/ BYO​

​

She was happy to know she wasn't wrong about him. Her brief assumption of his rational seemed to be well placed. Perhaps she hadn't lost it all in her old age after all. "Those who refuse to accept reality are inevitably destroyed by it. I've seen it with many fool hearted warriors, young and old. No man is a fortress, nor are we islands. We are grains on the eternal sands of time, all to easily swept away and replaced by the tides as they churn." She snickered, shrugging her shoulders. "A bit too poetic for myself personally, but I read that in something. Can't recall what, could have been Twi'lek's weekly honestly." She probably should have kept that last bit to herself, but frankly she didn't care. If someone was going to judge her tastes, they could leap head first out an airlock.

She was surprised that he was offering to contact jedi healers for her condition, something she honestly had written off as a treatment. Maybe it was her guilty conscience that was tainting her point of view. It was something to muse over, but the man had her interest with that offer. She turned to face him in kind, holding her mug in a firm grasp. "I'm looking for my family, lost them when Yasha went down. Been searching ever since, haven't found much. Only thing I can figure, is some Sith big brain has a list of captured warriors somewhere on Dromund Kaas. Though, information on such things is....difficult to get ahold of. Was hoping the Union might have something left, but after all the damage they've suffered, it doesn't seem likely."

Truthfully, she had no idea if her children were even alive. Again, she briefly thought to look at her datapad, but put the thought aside. It was too early to confirm anything, best not get her hopes. So many things could go wrong, life had taught her that much.
Amon Vizsla​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
PACT TO KILL
Enlil | Caarlyle Rausgeber | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Julius Haskler

​

He waited as the rest funneled into the meeting, as impromptu as it was. This was more so a means to make use of down time, as Irveric sought to survey the status of Mandalore and Concordia himself, in person, on those toxic, poisoned grounds. Erskine addressed the Imperial leaders outright. The Blue-Hearted Galidraani had a presence all his own to carry, he'd yet to encounter Barran directly on the field of battle, but he could see the ability of his command in his voice and aura. After all, the ribbons pinned to his chest were earned in bloodshed, by toil and merit.

"No doubt the Galactic Alliance is a competent fighting force and an ally we should be grateful to have. However, there is a disconnect in our version of the war...and theirs. When we fight, we are fighting for the homes and well being of our people. When they fight? It is a deployment to far off lands, fighting those they've been told are evil. They do not have total commitment." Irveric says outright.

"Thus, if the elimination of the Sith is our aim...and it is. We need to align with others as well, who are willing to totally commit to this existential fight. The Silver Jedi are not a government I like or respect by any means but with their regime change has come the lifting of the veil from the Sith manipulation wrought unto them by the Elder Compact. If we can convince them to align defensively with the New Imperial Order, not only do we further guarantee the containment and prevention of Sith influence spreading, so too do we further take a leadership role in the Galaxy as a whole. The influence of other nations is fading and it is our time to seize. From that position of Galactic leadership, so long as we act with tact...the Galaxy may be a shade more Imperial and thus - safer, more orderly, more prosperous. What I propose, the 'Bastion Protocols'...is the first step." Irveric suggests.

 

[Julius Haskler]

M A N D A L O R E _ S E C T O R
OBJECTIVE III | PACT TO KILL
NEW IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Irveric Tavlar | Enlil | Onansi of Thyrsus | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Halketh | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Dorin Nalju

Tavlar's proposal was interesting. Julius had studied the "Bastion Protocol" before the meeting, and he agreed with its content. Using the Concord as a buffer state was something everyone had agreed on, the Alliance was a state they could count on. Julius also saw the benefits of allying with the First Order to neutralise the Eternal Empire. And he would speak on that intent.

"The "Bastion Protocol" is the first step to establish Imperial dominance over the Mid and Outer Rims. I do not believe we can really penetrate the Colonies, Core and Deep Core yet. While the Alliance struggles against Sularen, we have to support it. If you agree, Imperator, I'd like to talk about the first steps of the strategy the Imperial Diplomatic Corps has conceived to expand the Imperial influence, and, in the long term, reestablish the Empire.

The first step of it all is of course to get rid of the Warlords challenging the central authority. Marlon Sularen, Vel'alari, Zeradias Mant, Derex Tirall... All these people claiming the Imperial Throne and ready to slice our throats to obtain it. Some of the Warlords are currently embroiled in a war against Corellia, a world on which Imperial influence is still strong, and Duros. We wish to support them in their war to get rid of the Deep Core warlords with your permission.

The second step is concurrent. We have to further and strengthen bonds with the other Imperial states or eliminate them. The Sith Empire, the First Order, the Eternal Empire... All these nations claiming Imperial lineage. We have to absorb them or destroy them. Either way, the project of a New Empire will grow stronger with each Imperial ally we gain. The Diplomatic Corps offers a solution to ally the New Imperial Order with the First Order and manipulate Natasi Fortan to declare war on the Eternal Empire. This way, we neutralise one of our enemies in the war against the Sith, and we strengthen bonds with the First Order."

 

[Jerec Yularen]

C O N C O R D I A

OBJECTIVE I | OPERATION 'BROKEN STEEL'
OPPOSING | SITH REMNANTS
AREA OF OPERATION | FORTRESS IMPERIOUS
Trajan Fett | Hakon Fett | Hans Rennagen | Izoshi | Djorn Bline | Djonas Val | Nukth Kelga'an

With one swift strike, Jerec felled the last Sith-Imperial Legionnaire. The bloody fight on the terrace was over, the defence points cleared. After tense minutes of firefight, sonic weaponry had proven superior, and the holes on the ground were the proof of the TodHusars' superiority. The Captain ordered his company to move forward and secure the outer skirts of the floor they had landed upon. While the paratroops scattered in squads to sweep over the enemy defensive layers, Yularen lit his comlink and sent a brief report to his fellow Captain.

"Banshee-Leader this is Berserk-Actual. Landing point Cresh secured. Ready for reinforcements. My Company is sweeping the balconies and is ready to make contact. Please transmit your position so we can join forces. Any questions? Berserk-Actual over."

Once the short communication was over, Jerec left his comm specialist, a sonic blaster in one hand and a sword in the other. He rushed towards his troops, scattered across the balconies. He was looking for a good fight. An opponent worth fighting. And while he stepped in the interior corridor, he found it.

The corridor looked like a tunnel, and led directly to the command centre, according to Jerec's map. This way was the quick victory everyone was looking for. But as he began rushing towards the other end of the tunnel, sinister respiration echoed on the walls. Among the flickering lights, a dark figure appeared, standing in the way. With a prolonged hiss, a red plasma blade appeared from the silhouette's hand.

A Sith

While many soldiers would have refused to fight, would have tried to get away, would have panicked, Jerec felt the bloodlust grow. He licked his lips in a beast-like manner. The fight was going to be bloody and only one of them would live. While his own sword hummed to life, Jerec grabbed his comlink and contacted the Imperial Knights task force scattered across the fortress. Not to ask for reinforcements. But to inform them he was taking down one of the most dangerous warriors of the galaxy.

"This is Berserk-Actual to Imperial Knights. I have found a Sith. I'm taking it down. For the Empire. Out."

And with the message complete, Jerec opened fire. Three, four rounds of sonic blasts rushed towards the Sith. This weaponry was able to crush bones, to pulverate stone, and no lightsaber could parry it.

The Sith did not parry. With incredible speed, he jumped and dodged, before using a Force push to throw Jerec away. The Captain fell and was pushed several meters away. While on the ground, his shots became imprecise, until Jerec discarded the sonic blaster and switched to his maser pistol. Again, three rounds illuminated the corridor, and again the Sith parried. But he nearly lost control over his lightsaber, just as planned.

And then, Jerec unholstered his second pistol, and the scattergun roared to life. Scores of flying metal were thrown towards the Sith while he was trying not to lose hold over his lightsaber. The majority of the rounds were stuck in his armour, but many pierced and wounded the dark warrior to the shoulder. It was the Sith that was roaring now. Jerec had infuriated him. Good.

Jerec used the distraction to get up again. Both pistols fired again and again as the TodHusar rushed towards the Sith. A meter away from him, he let his maser fall and unsheathed his sword. And the true duel began. Each strike was met with a parry of equal quality and strength. The clash of the blades echoed through the hallway. Jerec was no Jedi, he was no Sith to oppose another Sith with such energy.

He was a Sith-Killer.

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective IV | BYOO | ON THE TRAIL OF Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt

Bright2
​

Amon inaudibly chucked at the mention of Twi'lek's weekly. Something many would've not believed, even Ulahn blinked twice at his former Commander. The Vizsla had always been a silent, somber warrior with zero tolerance for jokes and zero capability of socializing. Yet, the years with the aruetii had softened that edge of his, molded him more into them as he had molded them into him. He had taught them the fighting ways of the Mandalorians and they had taught him the galaxy.

"Many like you, Azula. When Yasha took the reigns, clans split between those in support of her and those against. The genocide by the Sith merely excarberated that process." Amon commented, sourness in his voice not as much as of the situation but rather of him leaving his clan behind on his own volition. And that is where Azula and Amon diverged, she sought what he had abandoned. "We captured a lot of Sith intel during the Alliance's Stygian campaign but--" the Mandalorian paused, his eyes narrowing at his mug, "-- I don't have access to those anymore."

Then it sparked to him and he looked back up at her, "...you're not thinking what I think you're?"

Infiltrating Kaas? The heart of the Sith Empire?

 

[Rika Hiro]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR

[PROCESSING]

"I kill it, is that not the logical route Mr Harrsk, if a problem presents itself, you remove it permanently," as the HRD had done time and time again, though her pests were ideological enemies of the state and undesirables marked for death by the agency committees. Even those employed by the agency that was deemed a loose end or thought to harbour dangerous thought. Lured to a meeting or set up and greeted with a knife to the throat or a blaster to the nape of the neck, they all died the same in the end, and the last thing they'd see before departing was the HRDs same cold, alien-like demeanour. Despite her program limitations toward free will and choice, the replicant sometimes wondered if Harrsk or Djorne would be the next to axe. Harrsk was a good boy and served the state just as diligently as the HRDs he had command over. Still, the committees directive and the Imperators words trumped any fake attachments the Atrisian replicant had for any of her co-agents. It was quaint how fragile human life was when compared to her kind; she looked at Harrsks neck and mused on how easily she could lunge over and break it if the higherups transmitted an assassination command to her neural processors.

Jaeger Harrsk ​

 

[Bright2]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 4/ BYO​

Look at that, he had a sense of humor as well. A rare sight if there was to be one. She knew she wasn't the only victim of the Sith, there were many others, and beyond just Mandalorians, many had hurt from the Sith. Many had risen up to strike them down, and at the moment, it seemed to be going well. Their influence had diminished greatly, and they were not nearly as potent as they had once been. But it wouldn't bring back the dead, wouldn't mend the wounds they had inflicted, or make up for the mistakes she she had. Both as a warrior, and a mother.

She could see his words caught his attention though, the idea of going into the heart of the Empire. It was insane, most certainly a death sentence, and it was more than likely going to get her killed. But she had to know. Come hell or high water, she would know the fate that befell her children. She had effectively sentenced them to that fate, she should bear the burden of her choices. "Right into the heart, you heard me right." She said, nodding as she raised a mug, sipping from it slowly. She sighed after draining it to about half, setting it back on the bar top. "Just have to get a group that's crazy enough to come along." She snickered, tilting her head to the side, perhaps gauging if Amon was the sort of man she took him for. "Sounds like a good time, wouldn't you say?" In reality, no, it was a terrible idea. A sensible person would have put this idea away on the shelf and never touch it again. Unfortunately for Azula, she wasn't sane. Not since Mandalore burned. In fact, she reasoned she never would be.

Still, that was her goal, and she wouldn't stop until she saw it done.

Amon Vizsla
​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Location: On board of the Pride of Anaxes, orbit of Mandalore
Task Force 58 compostion: X101 Pride of Anaxes (flagship); X102 Audacious; X103 Courageous; CV-1 Foudroyant
Objective 2: SCORCHED EARTH
Post theme: N/A
Tag: Gallius Orcana | Erika Richthofen | LtCdr Halsey | LtCdr Mannerheim | Jack Daniel
Legend: Comm out, comm in, crew, ship's intercom

"Sir, we are all out of hyperspace."

"Alright. I want all ships to form a battle line with the Foudroyant right behind us. Tell the Foudroyant to launch all her bombers."

"Aye Sir!"

"To all ships, this Pride of Anaxes. Take a battle line formation with the Foudroyant behind the Pride. Foudroyant, launch your bombers ASAP. Pride of Anaxes, over."

"I want all guns to starboard side. Our targets are the Graug installations on Mandalore. Prepare for a Base Delta Zero. All guns, open fire!"

With that said, the Pride of Anaxes and the other ships of the task force opened fire with all their guns, while the Foudroyant launched her bombers.

 

[Moldau Keith]

Chapter 3: Balance in the blood of the River

Hans Rennagen ​

​

Moldau Keith, gazing into the future of the Mandalore mission, thought back to the vision he'd had some time ago. Why had the anger caught him off guard then? Would stability have been broken?

-The force is like a river on the edge of a village. If allowed to flow peacefully, the surrounding ecosystem exists in neutrality. But as soon as this river is diverted, the ecosystem is altered and the nature of the force promises only the risk of giving in to the dark side.

-I'm not sure I understand, master. What do you mean exactly?

- One day, Keith, you will understand.

His head turned to the ground, he heard the wise words of the ancient Jedi again. A glass of water in his hand, he drank this clear water, probably diverted from the neutral source from which it came.
Keith had for years undergone the rigorous training of the Imperial Knights. He had pledged allegiance to the emperor and passed the test for neutrality. Maybe it was just a hallucination. Nothing more.

Seeing his hand shaking, he heard that voice rising inside him again.

-The force is never wrong Keith.

Revealing his head, that deep voice continued to haunt him. A violent headache had seized him. The Emperor was the priority. He absolutely must not give in to this call for force.

Moldau, entered the ranks after hearing his captain's call, and repeating forcefully, "We are the weapons of the empire!" . Mind filled with determination in this dark cave, his eyes seemed to reflect both the fear of death and the desire to stay alive.

His comrades in arms, the Imperial Knights, had become from his earliest years of training a source of solace that enabled him to find the calm and courage to serve the Empire.
How many beers shared together? How many moments of laughter? Why couldn't he tell them?

-Keith! Focus, you little shit! You almost cut your own foot off again!

- Leave him, poor man, he's still thinking about the young girl we met yesterday.


Good memories and laugh returned to him and little by little, the agitated river seemed to finally find its course. A memory of laughter. A simple memory with his companions.

Walking in the heat and expectation of some noise in Mandalore Cave, he stared at the red armor of his friends.

"Should I tell them about this vision?" Will they understand what this thing means? ".

The formation of the imperial shield was installed. Much trembled.
In the thick fog, each could feel the breaths of the others on their necks, as if all were connected by this closeness. The silence was heavy now. Thinking over and over again, musing in the silence of his mind, Keith made his decision. With a heavy heart, Keith turned to his nearest neighbour….

Something was wrong. Why?

Why was he staring blankly? Where was that smile he had once known? And that blood-red streak that ran down her lips like a tear of wine. A dead body. Dead standing in the darkness of the mist by an iron blade. His face still reflected the last bit of life that was engulfed in the meanders of the great void.

-Keith...

The trembling voice of his comrade. The last words of a friend in the force.

The last hope is collapsing. In an instant, that of all the other knights left the slimy intestines on the floor colored. The filthy scene seemed to reflect the cruelty of hell. Keith watched them all fall, one by one. A river of blood at his feet rushed into the hollow of the earth. This riverhas been diverted from its neutral and calm source. Again.

The Rennegan Knight sounded the alarm. Before he could even finally confide in his brothers, Keith, saw the possibility stolen by wild beasts. With a heavy heart in mourning, the Imperial Knight once again remained silent before the bloody attack.