Dominion Built On Ashes | Dominion of Dorin | NIO

[NISCOM]

E M P I R E _ R I S I N G
New Imperial Order​

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D O R I N
BUILT ON ASHES

The Order's relationship with the people of Dorin has been trapped in a gray area. New-Imperials have aided them in the past, and the Kel Dor are one of the Order's largest non-human demographics in active service. However, Core-Culture runs deep on Dorin, and the majority do not hold a favorable opinion of Imperials or their ways.

As the Empire rises, Dorin is the next stop on its expansionary path. They will not come quietly, and when threatened, their peaceful ways shift with necessity. It is the harsh reality of war that the Kel Dor under the Iron Sun must now raise arms against their people. Through conquest, the Empire brings order, and through order, true peace will be obtained.

OBJECTIVE I //: DON'T YOU DARE
New-Imperial Force Corps // Warlords of the Sith
// DORIN, CAVERNS OF THE HIDDEN ONE... //

The Cult of Sion lives, and they insidiously slither their way back to the Caverns of the Hidden One. The Baran Do once more call for aid, and the Imperial Knights oblige.

The Sith have not forgotten our previous endeavors on Dorin. Ever vengeful, those of the old Dread Ascendancy and the Warlords of the Sith have come to counter our support. The chance for vengeance, and to solidify the Cult's presence on Dorin was too tempting a call.

Paz Koon has armed the usually non-militant Baran Do. They have received combat training under the Imperial Codex; as much training as time would allow. A final stand against the Cult of Sion dawns on the horizon. For the Baran Do and the New Order, go forth, and purge the dark from Dorin once and for all.

OBJECTIVE II //: WE CAN'T BE FOUND
COMPNOR // TRADE FEDERATION
// DORIN, VARIOUS LOCATIONS... //

Jaeger Harrsk has put forth a directive, deploying COMPFORCE operatives secretly upon Dorin. If we are to take the world by force, their means of resistance must be crippled. Dorin's most prestigious and decorated Generals, Admirals, and anti-Imperial Politicians are to be eliminated. COMPNOR strikes at the top of the chain, to leave those below in a hopeless plummet.

Working on insider information of this directive, Trade Federation agents and officials move in to seize assets in disarray from the vacuums left by Harrsk's directive. Bounty Hunters on Federation payroll swoop in as well to eliminate key targets, some of which overlap with COMPNOR's directives.

Without their most capable leaders, and abundant assets, the ensuing fight for Dorin will be swift and decsisive.

OBJECTIVE III //: YOU AIN'T COMING BACK
WARPOSTERS
// DORIN, BLACKSITE BARBAROUS... //

A Prefsbelt Command blacksite has been operating on Dorin under the guise of industry and bribes to planetary officials for an undisclosed period. A site for interrogation of Sith and Sith forces used secondarily for securing test subjects for other classified endeavors, Dorin had proven a safe and obscure place for the clandestine workings. Until recently.

As tensions rose between the Empire and the independent Dorin, officials caught wind of bribery and the existence of unauthorized operations. An investigation by planetary officials ensued, intending to send a message to Prefsbelt and the New Order. In an attempt to ensure the site isn't compromised, Caarlyle Rausgeber tugs the strings of his influence as Admiral Regent to acquire forces in opposition to Dorin's intentions.

A cold-skirmish has broken out, planetary defense forces and New-Imperial soldiers locked in conflict for the blacksite. With the arrival of the Sith, a third side to the conflict rises, escalating the small skirmish to an all-out battle for the compound.

Do not allow Blacksite Barbarous to fall.

OBJECTIVE IV //: FIRE OF MOTION
NEW-IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY // MILITARY LEADERSHIP
// BASTION, FORTRESS IMPERATOR... //

Countless lightyears away from the conflicts, the Imperial Assembly meets in Fortress Imperator to discuss the plan of action for Dorin's future. Battle plans, utilization, and infrastructure are all on the table. With the skirmish at Barbarous and an Imperial Knight's impulsive decision to arm civilians, no illusions of peaceful assimilation remain.

Moffs, Warlords, and Commanders bid for their respective plans and ideas before the highest echelons of the Order. Dorin's future is in their hands.

OBJECTIVE V //: BYOO

Whatever gets you to post, chief.

// SETPIECES //:
Dorin
Caverns of the Hidden One

 

[Noel Strasza]

A N Y O N E C A N T E L L
W A R M A C H I N E
O F F T H E R E C O R D
2nd DOOM DIVISION "THE WATCHMEN"

It seemed like she had only just recovered from the nasty damage The Sith Empire's ire had wrought her when she was tossed right back into the fire. This was all starting to seem a little bit too familiar. One of the first assigned to this rising hotspot of contention, The Watchmen had arrived initially to do what it was they were named for. Of course, that had lasted all of a grand two nights before the tense atmosphere had sparked into an all-out war. She'd expected it, as always. She was never deployed for peace-treaties or thoughtful resolutions. No, that was reserved for the Warlords and Moffs who clustered around tables and made the "arrangements" with the planet lords and whatever else she was too uncouth for. ​

Though she often wondered in the back of her mind how suited her General himself was for such a position. ​

By the time the conflict had boiled over and blaster fire illuminated the night, her scouts had long since established concealed footholds along the perimeter of the compound and had gallantly served as the first line of defense, especially once the bastard Sith arrived uninvited. Of course they had. When didn't they stick their hands in the cookie jars of others? She'd been ordered to stay her trigger finger for the planetary defense forces, so long as they kept moving, but once the Sith Troopers dropped in, it was only a matter of time.​

If the investigators got caught in the cross-fire, so be it. Accidents happened...​

Strasza barely had time to finish her five hundredth (or so) cigarette by the time the first screeches of plasma disturbed the peace and barely a half-second later, came the calls. ​

<"Major... what are they shooting at?">​

The warmachine shifted her position, edging over closer to the rocks on her right, and peered through her scope, sweeping broad to follow the lingering trail of glowing plasma in the dark. A local lay dead on the rocky ground, corpse still hissing. <"Pretty sure that wasn't friendly fire."> Noel deduced unenthusiastically.​

<"We got word where the Sith are lately?">​

<"Probably circle-jerking in the bathrooms of their new fort?">​

<"The bathrooms? Oh no, no Penny, they have special rooms for that. I seen 'em.">​

<"Cut the chatter, we got hostiles here somewhere. Focus up.">​

<"But moooom... I'm loving this laying here doing nothing for days on end thing we have going on here-">​

Tyco's sarcastic quip was lost as an absolute tidal wave of plasma crashed through the night, beating back the darkness and exposing a sea of Sith soldiers charging on the compound.​

<"HEY! THIS IS OUR SITE, GET YOUR OWN YOU BLEEDING SHITLORDS!">​

<"Weapons free, I'll make a call."> Strasza stated, already turning over her arm to swipe across the tacpad planted into the top of her gauntlet. An urgent message was sent out across the NIO channels designated for the patrol coordination: ​

// SITH APPROACHING FROM NORTHSIDE COMPOUND.
NUMBERS UNKNOWN; ESTIMATED IN HUNDREDS.
GUNS FREE. FOR THE IMPERATOR. //​

Strasza honed back on the tide, singling out a charging trooper in heavy armor. It was the simple flick of her finger that dropped them, sending them tumbling headfirst to the ground with barely a muffled 'pft!' heralding fate. She pivoted on her elbow, tucked her rifle back into her shoulder, and zeroed in, playing reaper as she was built to do.​

 

[Gedeon Rath]

Barbarous. A fitting name.

Gedeon's milky white eye twitched as he sniffed the air. Smoke and mist wafted through the air obscuring all but the closest terrain, the sounds of battle quickly fading as an unnerving silence settled in. Two fingers raised over his left shoulder and behind his head allowed the commando to keep his hand on his weapon, a forward movement indicating his intentions to the fireteam behind him. A well oiled machine. They were death dealers, life stealers, but most of all they were elite killers. Silently two of their number shuffled forwards, blasters at the ready as their eyes scanned the edges of the fog. A subtle shake of their heads indicated the coast was clear. Two clicks emanated in the fireteam's ears over the comm - a signal they were to use a bounding technique to cross the open area ahead.

They'd already eliminated two small groups of enemy hostiles, though they must have been green - it was too easy. Yet to come across real resistance Gedeon knew it was only time. It would come fast and heavy and if they weren't cautious it would catch them by surprise - especially if it was Sith they ran into next. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smile but only for a second. They had tools for that contingency. The combat had been brutal, the broken bodies of the dead lay where they'd fallen, blood mixing with the dirt and grime of the deck.

The crunching of loose gravel beneath their feet echoed in the commando's ears, artificially sounding louder in the place of momentary silence. Left foot leading right they moved forward about fifteen meters then took a knee, blasters scanning first left, then right. The other half of the fireteam bound forward just then, passing the first group by another fifteen meters before they too took a knee and began scanning for targets. It was then that several things happened simultaneously. First Gedeon and his group shoved off onto their feet, the gravel shifting beneath his feet before his toes bit into the duracrete below. Secondly a brilliant flash and high pitched crack erupted from his left. This was the moment. He knew it would come sooner or later, some predator lurking in the mist come to bring their end. Further still Gedeon felt a violent thump against his left shoulder, sending the man spinning. A grunt followed by an annoyed utterance escaped the man's lips. "Not today." Quick reflexes kept him from falling completely before he scrambled up and found refuge behind a large chunk of duracrete with durasteel rebar sticking out of it. :: Sniper. Left. Unknown distance. :: The men under his command adjusted, their weapons facing the direction of attack.

If their enemy was competent, they would soon attack in full force. Gedeon waited patiently for the trap to spring - it was then and only then that he would make his move.

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

T H E _ D A R I N G
Objective I | Feat. Mavia | Paz Koon | Open
​

"I hate having to do things twice."

"Routine is better than unpredictability, but in this case, I agree."
​

Dorian grunted, shaking the sand out of his saber.

"Man, and last time I had my spear..."

"You are improving with your saber."
​

"Hey, I was great with it even before I met y-"

One look and he fell silent. Didn't stop him from grinning, of course, and with his persistent enthusiasm he got her to crack a smile too.

They both looked into the cave. Even with his most rudimentary of senses, he felt a familiar darkness hidden away inside. A cold; an invasive terror, unforgiving as the storms of Dorin. It was rooted with the Sith and their darkness. Yet to his right stood that bulwark of calm he'd relied on so often. Almost out of spite he took a step forward, daring the darkness to come forward and eat him. It didn't.

Mavia, of course, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

"Just because it is the second time does not mean you should be more careless."
​

"Oh, you know I care a lot-"

"You care more about finding a good joke with 'Dorin' and 'Dorian' than this fight-"
​

"I do not- wait, have you come up with something?"

"No."
​

"Ah, damn. Well, it'll come."

 

[Horace Stolz]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Landing Pad
Objective III
Rolf Amsel

Blacksite Barbarous was in chaos as the attacks grew closer. The Blacksite was located in a valley, and was a heavily fortified endeavour. Isolated and away from all major settlements on that desolate rock. The official cover was that the Blacksite was a natural gas processing facility owned and operated by an energy concern on Mygeeto. Made sense. And the fact there were about several dozen locals on the payroll helped. Healthy investments into the pockets of the provincial government and its leadership also worked to ensure that any and all traffic from Barbarous warranted no attention. And it had worked. Till now.

While New Imperial regular special forces had been dispatched urgently, the actual shutdown of the facility was urgent. And required manpower. Ergo when the Ninth Battlegroup landed its first wave of reinforcements in the bases main landing pad, a special detachment was dispatched to greet them. Eclipsed in the shade by the large burning smoke stack, Stolz escorted the Blacksites commanding officer to the landing pad, where he and six others stood. Around them, Stossjaegers in cooperation with Prefsbelt personnel rushed to lockdown the facility. Shifting sensetive cargo into the bowels of the facility, and hastily emptying the tanks of flammable gasses into underground reservoirs.

As the docking ramp extended, the chief officer approached. He was attired in a First Imperial style uniform, apart from the thick black gasmask which dominated his features. "Colonel Amsel I presume?" The man drawled, approaching with a click of his boots against the duracrete. "Brigadier General Hauley. Prefsbelt Special Projects Department." The General introduced himself, "This," He gestured to Horace, "Is Captain Stolz, currently the highest ranking infantryman not indisposed." Stolz stood firm and to attention. But nonetheless gave Amsel a small nod to affirm who he was.

"Colonel I'll have my men haul any heavier equipment off of your transports for you." The General offered, "But I need to keep as many mobile as possible. Intel suggests there's been a mobilisation order for the next three military districts. And I need as many men as possible fortifying the perimeter." He took a pause, "Captain Stolz here will brief you as to our defensive situation."

"But you must remember above all else, whatever you see here, whoever you see here, stays here."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
DORIN | BYOO
The Renegade
Jedi Jumpsuit | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber
Dagon Kaze

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​

The slip from hyperspace led to an immediate activation of the ship's cloaking device, concealing it from most any of the New Imperial scanners. Not that they passing through the New Imperial blockade to any harm of them. Yinchorr was long in the past and as much as the burning yearn for revenge lingered in his heart, the Sith and all they had taken from him made the minor skirmish on that arid world appeared infinitesimal in comparison.

The way Maynard seemed to control the vessel was all but second nature, instinctual. As much as he prided himself in being the 'Lone Wolf', more than willing to go into situations far over head in a solitary march, he pinned Dagon Kaze to accompany him on this mission. In spite of his 'exile' from the New Jedi Order, it was still the Order he'd been at the head of building in the shadow of Ryv since its beginning. After seeing Kaze and hearing his sentiment in the presence of the Silver Jedi Council, he gained a level of respect for the Padawan and knew well he'd be one of many to trace the same path as Maynard, Ryv and the rest of the knights who'd founded the Order, he needed to be led by example. The same gesture Maynard wished he'd had levied toward him but since his return from malaise to the Jedi, he was left to chart his own course.

In Dagon, there were many parallels in himself, certainly in how the bright eyed enthusiasm of the Jedi soon faded down for the compulsion of duty. To protect those around him...and make sure there was nothing left to threaten those he cared for.

As the ship continued its automated course toward the gaseous surface of the desolate Dorin, Maynard swiveled the pilot's seat and stepped out.

"It's a hell of a long shot we'll get anything of use here but...absolute worst case, we end up killing some Sith." He remarks,, making way to the cargo bay of the ship.

"Which...in my opinion at least, still productive." He remarks.

"Who taught you to fight, Dagon?" He inquired out of errant curiosity, prying the lid from a storage crate before producing two full face rebreathers, offering one the way of his Jedi counterpart.

 

[Kainan]

OBJECTIVE ONE
Dorian Sicarrio Dagon Kaze

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​

The call came for the Imperial Knights to descend upon the Order of the Sith again.

And Kainan was happy to oblige.

In arms with the Baran Do, and one of their own at their head, it was undoubtedly going to be the catalyst that brought more of their ilk to the Imperial Force Corps.

However, reports said the Sith were fighting back. Rising up against the combined might of the Baran Do and the Imperial Knights. In turn, reinforcements were sent, and with them, Kainan arrived in his gleaming black and grey armour.

Touching down, he could sense through the Force the oncoming onslaught.

Death awaited those of the Crimson Saber, and Kainan did not hesitate to venture into the depths that they hid within.

 

[Rolf Amsel]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Landing Pad
Objective III
- - - -

A fething valley of all places. Rolf mused as he checked his weapon again out of habit. A glance to the sky revealed the FIV Erebus, a dark splotch against an already dim sky. The Ninth Imperial Battlegroup had landed. Helmet cradled in the nook of his arm, the First Order officer's expression was one of cold determination, a subtle glint of malice concealed behind blue eyes. "General." he acknowledged. Rolf's steely blue orbs glanced over at the other officer as he was introduced. "Captain." a gentle nod. It was strange to see so much familiarity in uniform, almost as if these men had evolved from the ashes of the Former Order and developed their own sense of self - that was the truth wasn't it? Behind Amsel stood a hand full of his own troopers - though the pristine white of their armor had been modified. The 9th wasn't just any run of the mill battlegroup, they belonged to a new breed. Their armor had more aggressive paneling, dark splotches helping to break up the signature white wall of the First Order.

"I appreciate the offer General, but we've got men for that. If you can provide intel to the Erebus we have a few more drop ships on standby to bolster key points. It's a shame I wasn't able to bring the entire battlegroup." Rolf shook his head. The veteran officer cracked a smile as the Prefsbelt General reiterated the need for discretion. "My men and I are well aware of the.. sensitive nature of this operation. Rest assured." Looking over his shoulder, Rolf nodded towards the men still lingering at the ramp. A quick acknowledgment and they disappeared into the hold of the landing vessel. A moment later they returned, several large hoversleds in tow. Upon them - E-Webs. "Mobile E-Webs are just the start of our inventory." noted the Colonel. "As for defenses Captain Stolz.." he turned to look at the man. "What's the order of the day?"

It seemed counter intuitive, the rather lackadaisical approach considering conflict had already broken out nearby. Rolf could hear the sounds of sporadic blaster and weapons fire but it was hard to tell where exactly it was coming from on account of the heavy fog rolling in. A fething valley. The man shook his head again. Whomever had built this facility here was relying solely on its cover - no competent military mind would opt for putting a facility in the base of a valley where the surrounding hills provided a direct line of fire into every nook and cranny. In that sense the fog was helping them he supposed. "Any idea on enemy force counts or expected incursions?" he asked.

Horace Stolz​

 

[Horace Stolz]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Wall
Objective III
Rolf Amsel

"Follow me sir." The Captain drawled from behind his helm, before turning heel and leading Amsel through the courtyard. The facility was walled off. WIth a large, reinforced duracrete wall. Stossjaeger and associated Prefsbelt forces ran up and down it, hauling equipment. "I remember you Colonel," The Stossjaeger captain mused, "From the old propaganda on Avalonia." The Stossjaeger added with a wry smirk from behind the helm. "But defences, I s'pose you'll want the run down on them."

"We're running a small shield generator, protecting the Blacksite from orbital and artillery bombardment." The Stossjaeger informed him, "We have a half squadron of fighters and bombers command's been keeping in reserve as well." Stolz informed him. "We were to have turbolasers. But they aren't operable." Stolz lamented, "At about 0330 this morning, we found ourselves disconnected from the province power grid. General wasn't really expecting the power cut. We paid the local government billions in bribes, donations. We figured it'd be impossible to do that."

"Yet here we are." Horace gave an exasperated sigh as he lead Amsel through the base, past dozens of technicians securing equipment and shutting down consoles. "Enemy forces will be combined arms mechanised and infantry, with some light aircraft support." Horace informed Amsel, "We have enough heavy turrets to deter a landing in our walls. So we expect the gunships to be running CAS." Horace added, "The Dorin Army is largely sort of imperial doctrine. They can only feasibly drop their walkers and support vehicles at the eastern end of the valley, giving us prime opportunities to just attack from afar, with sniper teams, while slowly withdrawing behind the shield." Horace lead Amsel up the eastern palisade which was being reinforced with struts, and metal coverings on top, to provide cover for the defenders against the oncoming onslaught.

"Anticipated enemy strength is about half a combat division. One company of army regulars, and the rest being reserves. General doesn't want us hurting the reserves too badly since they're mainly locals and he's done his damndest to run a decent PR campaign for them. So we're gonna try and maul the first advance force so bad, they lose morale."

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

OBJECTIVE 1
SEPARATE THE GOLD FROM THE DROSS
Kainan Paz Koon Dorian Sicarrio

Rarely, too rarely, did a situation like this offer time to prepare. Ashin made the most of it.

A pair of stealth boats from the Pomojema had landed six hours ago. Within two hours she'd sent away the elders and young initiates of the Cult of Sion and kept the second boat around for her own evacuation. However many of the Cult's warriors survived would, ideally, join her. This particular tradition had value. It didn't deserve eradication.

But she wasn't above equipping the most brutal, fanatical marauders with fragmentation grenades, and invoking a certain Krath spell that had recently crossed her path.

In short order, these caves would become an abattoir, a bitter personal fight replicated at scale. Tunnel and trench warfare brought back memories so painful that Ashin envied the Sionists their unique relationship with agony. Her scarred old phrik armor contained all visible signs of discomfort as surely as it contained the human-normal atmosphere that kept her alive. She itched to get at it, get into the fight as a Warlord of the Sith, put all that weakness behind her.

First, however, came weapons testing.

Initial contact with the enemy looked like this:

• A Sionist marauder charging out of the dark at some NIO scout patrol.
• A fragmentation suicide bomb turning the marauder into a nasty smear of Kel Dor and the dark side.
• Cursed injuries that refused to heal.

 

[Rolf Amsel]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Wall
Objective III
- - - -

There it is again. That drawl. It was different than the high society, Galidraani accent which permeated the core worlds of the First Order - on account of Natasi's... The Supreme Leader's origins. Even so, it held some quality about it that Rolf couldn't help but find strangely endearing. "On your six." he confirmed as he fell in behind the Captain. Behind the First Order trooper, his men followed with their weapons in tow. The Captain's comments were met with a hint of amusement at the corner of the Colonel's lips. "Feels like an eon ago Captain - the glory days I suppose. The Order has new priorities now." There was a lot that had happened over the past years including the re-emergence of the First Order from the ashes of her former self. Rising like a phoenix out of her own ruin at the hand of the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium. They had clawed their way back from the brink one more time. If nothing else, the will of the Order's people was never in question. "Helps to know what we're working with. Sounds like combat's already broken out in some places."

As the Captain laid out the forces that were assembled Rolf grimaced. They were at a severe disadvantage without the turbolasers active. "No way to find where the power's been cut I assume? Or is that more of a manpower restriction?" Stepping over a small stack of metal girders, Rolf's eyes rose to the tops of the palisade. Making a few motions with his hand and arm, the men behind him moved forward past the officers and towards the wall. "I'll leave these men here, a few rotary blasters should do a decent job of deterring the first assault."

Rolf understood the General's desire to reserve the locals as long as possible. It was no small thing, a choice that carried weight with it. To prioritize the safety of local fighters over his own men was an admirable trait. "What are our vulnerabilities?" he asked. Aside from the obvious disadvantage of position at the base of a valley, Rolf was curious where the enemy might find purchase should they press hard enough. Before the Captain could form a reply Rolf's eyes darted towards the sky as he strained his ears. The fog and mist filling the valley did its best to obscure and misdirect sound amplified by the rising hills but something deeper scratched at the soldier's mind. A sort of sixth sense. Opening his mouth he began to shout, legs pushing him violently towards the nearest form of cover. "Incoming!" The familiar whistle of a mortar round echoed in the air around them.

Horace Stolz ​

 

[Gedeon Rath]

They were somewhat beyond the wire, an out-building facility located a stone's throw away from Barbarous actual. They wouldn't see support - although that's what they were there for in the first place. A hunter killer team designated to harass and eliminate any groups staging just outside the range of the facility's walls. Well, they'd found at least one element - left alone that sniper would have free reign over the walls and that was a non-starter for the Commando. Hand signals once again indicated to those beside him what the intention was, a visual countdown from three counted off with each finger closing into a fist. On Zero, they took action.

Spurring from their temporary cover Gedeon and his men let loose a violent burst of fire towards the direction they'd taken fire from only a moment before. In spurts they advanced, groups taking cover, firing, then advancing. Hopping from any bit of cover to the next. Nimbly leaping over a tipped over pile of crates, Gedeon's eyes traced across the landscape ahead. That's it. He'd be extremely surprised if it wasn't the sniper's nest.

An elevator unit rose above the other buildings in the small adjacent facility. A satisfied growl escaped the commando's lips as he broke line of sight from the building. :: On me. Elevator tower front. :: The comms in his men's helmets barked to life as he relayed his findings. :: Aurek break left, Besh right. Don't let the bastard slip out on us. :: In unison the storm commandos pushed out from their cover. They were too close now, various sheds and structures obscuring any sight from the top floor of the sniper's position. We've got you now.

 

[Horace Stolz]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Palisade
Objective III
Rolf Amsel

"It was Colonel. But you were an inspiration for me and a few others I know." The Stossjaeger mused aloud, "The whole Kaeshana thing. You and the Grand Admiral, up in lights? It's what uh, what sorta pushed me to join the Defence Force." Horace elaborated. "I was gonna join my Dad, making chairs out of wood on Riflor like some backwards carpenter when boom. That went down." He scoffed a little and chuckled, "Never looked back since." The Stossjaeger added, before pausing, "See, when the Blacksite began, it used to be able to run things entirely independently Colonel." Horace informed him.

"But uh, since certain developments, and expansion of research materials, we've had to use power from the district grid." Horace briefed the Colonel. The derision in his voice was well, palpable. "Except, the General never got around to requisitioning another major reactor. Meaning we're stuck here with our cocks out." The Stossjaeger sighed, climbing up the palisade. "Lieutenant, report!"\

"Captain!" The Lieutenant barked back, in a thick Pa'Deshi accent, "Sir, transports leaving this sector report a gathering of forces. The enemy seems to have deployed a large infantry force to the South, and they appear to be-" That whistling. That goddamned whistling. Amsel called it faster than Horace could. But the warning was clear.

"Get down!" Horace snapped. He turned to the First Imperial and crash tackled him. Pinning him to the ground while the first volley hit. Then the second and the third. "Scramble the TIE's!" Stolz snarled, "Prep our own mortars!" The Stossjaeger growled, "Rhypalm rounds, trace 'em and end the bastards!" The captain scrambled up, offering a hand to Amsel, "Movement ladies! I want some bloody movement!"

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
DORIN | BYOO
Maynard Treicolt

the crimson idol [x]

Loske Matson.

The recent events surrounding her diabolical corruption to the Dark Side left yet another grievous and somber scar upon the New Jedi. Another fallen, another casualty of war, another bearing semblance to his own loss of his twin brother. Grief, turned to frustration turned to a determination to deliver retribution. It felt like an eternity ago - when Ryv, the Sword of the Jedi - dared to raise his blade in defiance against the Sith and the prevailing indifference of Jedi across the galaxy. Dagon, the bright-eyed boy, had returned from Ziost a purposeful man bearing a cross; the clash with his brother, a baptism of fire through which he came out on the other side as a resolute adult with zeal ablaze in his eyes.

Loske's partner, Maynard Treicolt, had beckoned him in his quest to 'alleviate' the curse on the former. It had led them to Dorin and the Cult of Sion where the New Imperials found themselves in a deadly scuttle over the grip of the world. Dagon mused, arms crossed and leaning on a tall box in the cargo bay of the ship; a coffee gone cold beside him. The spiraling dive into his mind were interrupted upon Maynard's appearance.

"It's a hell of a long shot we'll get anything of use here but...absolute worst case, we end up killing some Sith. Which...in my opinion at least, still productive." The older Jedi said.

The remark was received with mixed feelings. The recent events surrounding Maynard and Rhis, among others, bringing a sour taste in his mouth. The former's tribulations as a general had shaped him far more than any Jedi sermon ever did. Militant, stoic and driven, General Treicolt had shed the skin of a Jedi for that of a man with a duty in an unforgiving galaxy. It was where, in Dagon's opinion, the two differed. Maynard's drive, Dagon believed, manifested from his Concordian upbringing, whereas Dagon's - from the path of the Jedi.

"Who taught you to fight, Dagon?"

He looked up at the man, answering, "To fight? Master Asmundr Varobalder and Ryv ." from the former he had learned most of it, especially the arcane arts, from the latter - his bladework. And to an extent - from his own brother. Yet, considering the circumstances leading to the formation of the New Jedi Order, it could be easily derived that he was as self-taught as most of the New Jedi.

"You?"

 

[Rolf Amsel]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Palisade
Objective III
- - - -

The momentum of both the Colonel's and the Captain's mad dive for cover sent them farther than Rolf had anticipated, the solid contact as they crashed to the ground driving the breath from his lungs. A cacophony of explosions erupted all around them as rounds rained down. A moment later the final blast dissipated leaving an eerie silence broken only by the wailing cry of an unfortunate soldier. Rolf's world warped, an unstoppable wave of pressure building in his lungs until a violent cough escaped his lips. Another, and another, followed by a raspy gasp of air as he fought to reinflate his lungs. Untangling himself from the Stossjaeger he forced himself to his feet and looked around for his helmet with no success.

:: Report! :: Rolf exclaimed into the comm clipped along his collar. A slurry of replies preceded a relieved sigh from the Stormtrooper commander. "Your men up?" he asked the Captain, recovering his weapon and taking a knee. "They hit us with the first volley - they've got forward observers up there somewhere." he said matter of factly, swinging his arm towards the rising hillsides around them. "Do we have any assets outside the wire? We need to eliminate those observers or, between you and me, we're as good as dead." his voice lowered as he uttered the second half. Pausing a moment, he addressed his men over comms again. :: We're taking effective indirect fire at my location. See what you can do to assist the Stossjaeger in locating the firing position. ::

It took several moments for all the commands to be relayed but as they were, Rolf pulled up a small hologram of the AO and quickly concocted a plan. They had two primary objectives, especially if they wanted to keep from being overrun. "This is your operation Captain - where do you want the Ninth? Way I see it, we can hold against the wave here and coordinate a counter-attack or we can try to get your turbolasers back on line. Track down the power cutoff and get it flowing again." The man's voice carried with it a strange calm, his words spoken clearly and unimpeded by excitement or adrenaline. It was as if a switch had been flipped. The world could have been nearing its end and the Colonel could have been entirely unaffected.

Horace Stolz ​

 

[Darth Daiara]

OBJECTIVE 1
Bombs go boom- I'm opposition or somethin'
Ashin Cardé Varanin

Aradia fussed with the mask on her face as she watched the Sionist marauder charge out. Predictably, the grenade in his hand exploded. It was what came after that held her grim interests.

Shrapnel shot out into the Imperial scout, embedding into his limbs. His screams echoed chillingly through the air, bloody lumps covering his body. In the dark, it was impossible to see the damage.

She leaned forward, eyes alight as she tried to sense if there was a change in his vitals. Nothing flickered over to her, but that was nothing new. She was stronger in other things.

She stepped forward, her hand reaching out as she yanked the writhing man into the darkness with them. The telekinetic tendrils released his ankle as he skirted to their feet. Ever a stubborn Imp, He shot wildly into their group, a fact she hoped wouldn't bite her in the ass she kicked at the wrist and disarmed him.

Her mask was finally left alone, the girl's grimace going unseen as she leveled her saber to his neck.

"How do we know if it worked?"

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

OBJECTIVE ONE
Darth Daiara

Ashin straightened up from checking the very dead Sionist. She'd never used suicide bombers before, but there really wasn't much contemptible about using up, burning up, a bloody marauder against military targets.

"Here."

An uncompromising Force grip pressed the New Order scout trooper against the cave floor. Ashin moved Aradia's lightsaber aside and crouched over the trooper. He'd sustained major shrapnel wounds. She forced a kolcta geltab past his teeth, a powerful and expensive healing agent.

"Wait five minutes. If he heals, it failed. If he doesn't, it worked. We don't have a Jedi healer around, but kolcta is arguably better."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
DORIN | BYOO
The Renegade
Jedi Jumpsuit | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber
Dagon Kaze

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​

He recognized that glint in his eyes. The innocence, the light. He had it once all the same but he wasn't too sure of its permanency in Dagon. Though after all, Maynard had his origins steeped in darkness, stemming back to the death of his parents and master on Concord Dawn. It'd laid the foundation for the passion and impulse that drove all of Maynard's actions as a Jedi.

"Self taught, learned a thing or two in passing from folks back home, Vizsla and such too. I've come to learn its more toughness than anything else that wins out. So long as you keep getting back up." Maynard suggested before he fastened the rebreather over his face and he motioned to the BB unit in passing.

"Buddy, keep a perimeter view of the ship for me, don't know if any Sith will come snooping around." Maynard commanded the way of the droid who gave off a series of enthusiastic beeps before the ramp opened before them, making way for their exit.

<"Seismic readings says the cave entrance shouldn't be all too far from here...where is it you're from, Kaze? Don't think I ever caught it..."> He inquired, trying to inquire of the younger Jedi counterpart.

 

[Volgin Alto]

F L A Y E R
WARLORDS OF THE SITH
7th BATTLE CHAPTER 'THE FLAYERS'
Dante Corvus ​

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B L E E D
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The blades were sharp and it was as good a day as any to run the red ichor of the Empire's finest. Dorin. This desolate world of dust and storms served the newest venue to bloodshed. The 'New Empire' as they deemed themselves, servants to stagnation and corruption just as the Zambranos were. Not that I cared.

All I yearned for anymore was the kill. To feel the power in wielding another man's fate in my hands. The ability to bring the end. In the flat wastes of Dorin, my battle was personal. My kin would roam here with the Imperial hosts. Our banners evaded eachother at Ninn and Brosi. Such would not be the same here. I'd find these Myrmidons and my Flayers would make them truthful men for the first time in their lives.

For flayed men tell no lies.

I cared not for Baran Do or Cult of Sion.

I wanted to kill.

The Myrmidon dropships came in low and fast. At blaster point, I willed the Cult of Sion sages with me to bring the storm down unto them, the cataclysm sending their ships spiraling into the desolate earth beneath. It was then me and my men got unto our swoops with fire and axe in hand to make way toward them on the double.

Through the clouds of dust and thunder, they heard our engines as we made our silent vow of death. Each of them separate from the unit from the chaos was swiped clean by the blade of an axe. The battle began and with it, I yelled out a guttural scream from my bike.

<"BROTHERRRRRR! COME OUT! COME OUT!">​

 

[Alais Kaun [DECEASED]]

1LT. Alais Kaun
Objective 5: Our Failures
​

The blood-stained gurney hovered above the alabaster white floor of the Frigate's hallways, upon its' linen sheets laid the ruination of Sergeant Wayde, Alais' platoon sergeant and trusted second-in-command. Keeping a gauntlet clutched around its' grab-handle tightly in a brisk walk is Lieutenant Kaun "Wadey! You're going to be alright." Wayde's green eyes shift lazily in their sockets, a rebreather mask sits over his mouth and bridge of nose.

Wide theatre doors swing open on the Gurney's advance and a uniformed physician steps forward with palms up and facing the armoured Lieutenant Alais. "Ma'am, you can't enter the theatre because of infection control." Alais' pace slows and steadies unwilling to take on a Major but distressed she thrusts a finger towards Wayde's Gurney which slowly disappears beneath a wave of medical corps staff, her dusky eyes focus on the fair physician.

"Make sure they look after him, Sir." The Major swallows his irritation, he understood the junior Lieutenant's frustration and in her clearly distraught state was graciously willing to ignore being given what sounded like a direction by someone who did not have the authority to give him one. Alais' stands at the precipice of the theatre frozen in a frightened tremor, frightened for what would become of a good soldier and a friend.

"Lieutenant" The physician softened and smiles behind the white surgical mask draped over his mouth it could be heard on his voice. "We'll take good care of the Sergeant." He waits, Lieutenant Kaun blinks and seems to bow her sandy blonde coloured head in what Major Kothe took as a deferent sign of respect. She leaves without saying another word, silently stewing in her own anxiety for Wayde's fate. The injuries were gruesome, Alais had joked unfairly that he was ugly before but now the joke threatened to in macabre fashion work its' way into reality.

Alais swears under her breath. "This bloody planet."