Conquest through Destabilization [OS Dominion of Roxuli]

[Six-O]

The cataclysm had come, and gone. Battered and limping, Roxuli struggled to move on. The Mining Colonies were in an uproar, the Ore Refinement had plodded to a standstill. Dissension and unrest were the voice of the hour. From this the One Sith conspired to expand their borders once more. To close gaps and accumulate an important production center to feed their huge War Time needs, for if gone unchecked, ungainly costs and dwindling resources were the downfall of many an Empire.

Thus and so, Six-O, recent addition to the rank and file of the horrid caucus, had been dispatched to sow the seeds of rebellion, and further propagate the enraged nature of hostilities on the planet. This was a position of high praise, one could say, for a Droid. But this peculiar artificial had been here and done that for over four thousand years. When he was told the number of assets allotted to this campaign were meager at best, he wasted naught a moment in examining ways in which to Destabilize the local regime -- the solar flare, and social upheaval made this surprisingly convenient.

Priorities were tackled and fell with mathematical prose and decisive calculation. Bluff Resh, as the Droid titled it, rose in silence in the Asteroid Belt. It's large PreFabricated Dome structures undulating with a threatening sway as the dangerous space rocks touched each other with deadly frisks and ground shaking punches. A forward operating base to dispatch from.

Six-O from there began to assemble the intelligence required, mapping data, situation reports, names and contacts. The Droid was as competent as he was economic. Neither a credit over his allotted budget, or effort wasted in followed endeavors. But really, could anything less be expected from a sentient machine?

But as with all volatile things that threatened ignition, a spark was required. And so the situation on Roxuli began with a betrayal.

Rain, fat and thick, slashed the near-empty loading bay relentlessly. Ever since the Solar Flare had set the asteroid belt at unease, the weather patterns on the planet had been unstable. Half the city of Par'ediin lay underwater from the tidal change, even through the solid duracrete walls of this abandoned building could wind and waves be heard admist the sirens.

"So are we at an accord?" A grey haired human male named Jace Tekiv questioned, a heavy overcoat draped down from his shoulders, hands clad in fine Corellian leather and a dossier of bulky proportion clutched in his grasp.

"Yatay yatay ootyah." Grymm Jaegir replied from behind fearsome breath mask.

"Mr. Jaegir inquires about the other aspect of your dealings." A silver-plated protocol droid informed.

"Until I see what's mine, I'm afraid I have no idea what this mongrel is speaking about."

"Yatoh prak'ut, pootzck." The Ubese mercenary warlord rasped, confidently retreating towards a parked Speeder, his boots echoing in the largely empty bay.

"Hmm, Mr. Jaegir colorfully says that you will have whats coming to you."

"Is that her? Is it?!" Jace exhaled excitedly as light commotion breathed from just out of sight, a pillar blocking his view.

With two mechanical hands holding a young twi'lek by both shoulders, Grymm, clad in customary, terror-inspiring combat gear marched forward with her.

"Don't hurt her! " Tekiv bellowed as he watched the Ubesian muscle his twi'lek prize to the ground, muffled cry escaping from behind her gagged mouth as she thudded the duracrete and found a heavy boot heel on the small of her back.

"Utayay oovat yatay k'atus" The true Ubese laughed, fishing a pistol from it's holster. He let the barrel threateningly loom over the back of the girls head as she lay beneath his weight.

"I have what your people demanded! Files on local resistance leaders, addresses, connections -- everything you fools need to expunge and hide your crimes." The human growled, treading forward several paces. His eyes aflame with lust as he gazed upon this rare, soft pink, twi'lek.

"Yatay ootyah?"

"Mr -- "

"YES! Uniforms, access cards, and the weaponry is from the east 148th Roxuli Security Precinct, you'll all die the same, no matter your gear. How old is she?"

Not old enough.

"Zeebuss vi'saayt." Grymm concluded, urging the muzzle of his weapon away from the young twi'leks head.

Jace Tekiv, Roxuli Security Force Captain by day, perverted pedophile pansexual by night. He'd been waiting for this twi'lek girl for a week now, and finally she would be his. Where or how these Ubese found her, he could care less. His sneering lips creased in to a twisted simper that bared yellowing teeth, oh what games he would get up to with her tonight. She would be worth selling out this entire planet for -- not that he thought the locals had what it took to overthrow the Roxuli Security Force, no matter whom they hired from the outside.

He exhanged the files with Grymm Jaegir, whom tucked them safely in to his combat jacket. Gloved hands now free, clapped, as he gazed down with a longing desire. "Take your boot off of her, you ani-- "

There wasn't pain, not really. At least none that Jace Tekiv registered as a sizable blade pressed casually, quite expertly, through flesh and between ribs. Even when his eyes focused on the vanishing blade, he felt little more than surprise. In this respect, it was perhaps humorous, in some way, when the blade exited. Dark blood smearing it's deadly surface, and then nonchalantly entered his ribcage again that the man's face held on to that look of stupid shock.

"Oh my. . . dear. . help. HELP!" The protocol droid began to vocabulate loudly as it watched it's master stumble and fall, hand clutching punctured chest, mouth overflow with blood.

Voices from the far end of the loading bay, shadows. It was the Captain's men.

The Ubese tossed the outer edge of his boot against the girls soft pink side, sheathing the blade he'd performed his magic act with before taking her by scruff of the neck.

"Ju'sot utay!" He hissed, voice modulated to an even more hair-raising tone. Six-O may have demanded her safe return -- good credits in Twi'lek trade after all -- but Grymm Jaegir would not die for her. Naive to his language, as most of the Galaxy was, or not. If she wanted to live, she was going to move.

"The Captain's down! Block the exit! Don't let him escape!"

"Ju'sot utay, brak'sayt!!" The mercenary cracked her pink head with the side of his pistol, opening an abrasion just above her left eye, her head tails flailing from the blow.

Blaster fire scintillated through the loading dock, hard, whining slug rounds too. Grymm Jaegir did not flinch, with Pistol in one hand, young twi'lek neck in the other he forced their pace -- a jog -- out of the center lane of the loading bay and along the left wall towards a frame work of scaffolding. Surprisingly choosing to ditch the speeder.

They continued on, Grymm turning at the waist to fire over shoulder as he lead them further in his desired direction. One, two, three shots as they moved. One of the RSF took a strong slug to the throat, a geyser of red washing through clutching palm and fingers as he fell to the ground, slithering to his choking death.

"You're dead, Ubese! DEAD! You don't know what you've started, boy!" Someone yelled.

A blaster bolt singed over the top of his shoulder, charring jacket black, and scorching flesh. Abandoning the journey towards the scaffolding, he hastily tucked in behind one of the pillars that supported the weight of the ceiling above, folding the pink sentient in close to his front, hand still holding the back of her neck tight, in intense shock, she didn't seem to even notice the strength of the grip.

The firing stopped, and things grew glumly silent.

Grymm let go of the girls neck, flicking her with middle finger between the eyes before he pointed towards the scaffolding. From here an open door could be seen through the entanglement of framework. He held three fingers, tucked one in, now he had two showing. One. He gave her a shove, she obeyed.

Grymm aptly rolled away from the pillar, arm extending his pistol forward as one of the approaching RSF had been momentarily distracted by the sudden pink flourish that jaunted off towards scaffold at break neck speed, head-tails wildly thrashing.

The mans face quite abruptly, and outrageously vanished through the back of his skull, stiff body falling, it twitched uncontrollably, seemingly bewildered at what had just occurred.

A torrent of shots showered in on Grymm once again, he spun on heel, dashing at top speed towards the scaffolding. Closer, closer, closer, he dove through the frame of it, rowdily clanging over metal pipes and beams, scurrying through the door on hand and knee once his aching body hit the ground.

His hands were shaking, his chest burned, he kicked the door shut behind him with his boot. Instantaneously it began to splinter and peel as coordinated weapon fire chewed through. On his back he rolled, turning his head towards the window, the pink twi'lek girl was being extracted through by the towering droid IGa-60. Two of his Pra'kt'orai soldiers appeared next as the Droid vanished in to the rain, waving him out.

This was how the terrible hostilities on Roxuli began. Now the pot only needed stirring.

Spoiler: Dominion of Roxuli

Dominion of Roxuli

http://starwarsrp.net/topic/70629-dominion-of-roxuli-planning/

|Possible Hazards to Queue|
Roxul Colony:
Sickness of the LowHab - Caught your arm on that rusty, protruding nail or jagged edge? Mid-way through your journey you will fall deathly ill with Roxuli Fever ending your participation in the Dominion. (You have become bed bound, and are quarantined back on Coruscant. Five Post Recovery)
VoidRot - In the Void while fighting you have been slashed, bitten or stabbed, within hours the wound has become gangrenous and your flesh is beginning to abscess with green and black discoloration. (You are returned to Bluff Resh, two post medical procedure, three post recovery)
Collapse! - Progress through the Colony has been impeded, vast sections of the facility have caved in. Power is out, air recyclers have ceased function, you are trapped. (Forward Progress to Objective is halted, Fighting is fierce, horrifying, Eight Post Recovery.)
RadHead - You have begun to suffer from latent solar radiation exposure, you vomit, your vision is blurry, your skin reddening. Cognitive impairment is heavy, your grip of the Force has diminished for the time being. (Push on to your own heroic detriment, or return to Bluff Resh for medical treatment. Two - Eight post Recovery depending on level of sickness.)

Par'ediin:
Roxuli Flu?! - You forgot to receive inoculation at Bluff Resh, even though Six-O reminded you, or perhaps you merely thought yourself above the laws of nature from whence you sprang. Silly, Organic. . . you're not a Droid. (You've become ill for the duration of the Dominion, your combat capabilities are weakened.)
Storm! - The change in tidal flow has created frequent and unpredictable mega-storms. Monumental tempests that hurl lightning and flood the sky with wind and rain of such a copious amount that travel of any sort is ill-advised (Impede Progress, Three Posts)
Gunjack'd - You purchased Spice from a Shady Spacer, he said it was Gunjack, and it'd hulk you up real good. Make you strong as a Rancor. Instead you're back at Bluff Resh, barely conscious, saying something in Huttese, and you don't even speak that language. (Three post Trip, Two Post Recovery.)

|Possible Objectives to run at Roxul Mining Facility|

• Connect with Ileena Than
• Take Out Communication Arrays In and Around the Asteroid Mining Colony of Roxul
• Infiltrate the Mining Colony Roxul through Pirate Tunnels
• Escape The Void and Fight Your Way to the UpperHab
• Disable Security Checkpoints and Equipment
• Breach the UpperHab Security Station to Disable or Control the Checkpoints/Monitor Your Team
• Fight Through Each Area, Be Careful of Hazards and Cave-Ins
• Conquer and Control the Security Port/Dissuade Reinforcing RSF From Entering the Roxul Facility
• Work Your Way to the Control Station in the Highest Dome of the UpperHab and Take Over the Colony

|Possible Objectives to Run for Par'ediin|

• Establish Contact Grymm Jaegir For Help if Required
• Pose as RSF and wipe out the Resistance Clusters in the Small Town North of Par'ediin
• As Resistance/RSF Assault the HoloVision News Broadcast, Seize and Maintain Control of the Station, Broadcast Propaganda
• Execute Key Members of Planetary Authority
• Incite Riots as Agent Provocateurs/Violently Quell Riots as RSF
• Apply Terror Tactics in a Shadow War with the RSF
• Raid Key Structures for Supplies, Specialty Gear/Uniforms
• Spread Unrest Through Destruction (Burn Hospitals, Destroy Schools, Take out Utility Stations)
• Siege the Roxuli Ore Refinement and Shipping Company
• Through the Chaos Lure the President of the ROR&SC in to a Position of Vulnerability For Assassination/Kidnapping

|Objective C|

• Seek out the old Devaronian Saladyyn before he takes off from Roxuli, he may have something that will change you forever.
  

 

[Kur-gal Kwaad]

Objective: B
Allies: Grymm Jaegir & Ubesian Death Squad | [member="Six-O"] | OS
Enemies: Everyone else


When one needed inconspicuous, they usually grabbed some OSI agents, dressed them appropriately, and threw them at the situation in question. The rest was sort of left up to the trained operatives, seeing as they tended to work best with limited supervision and their hands largely untied. Whatever they deemed would be best in the given circumstance, they were allowed to employ.

Point in case? Roxuli.

It had been a borderline situation that needed only some expert analysis and a well-placed push, and it would tip over like a mountain balancing on its peak. It was in endagered equilibrium at the moment, but it wouldn't last, for it was merely the calm before the storm. The rats, literal and proverbial, had all abandoned the ship weeks ago, smelling the changing winds from miles away. The alteration, in all honesty, took a keen observer, or some very talented guts to discern. The colonies had never been what one might call a peaceful place. Poverty, poor working conditions, and general disarray had a way of affecting that, and with some careful influence, one could play the people of Roxuli like a finely tuned instrument.

And what instrument more finely tuned than the warmachine of the One Sith?

Few could rival the precise workings of the monster of metal and flesh whose claws had pierced the skin of many a world, forever changed and brought to heel in their vision of spreading order across the Galaxy. At what price that order came, of course, was a matter of debate.

The Republic had always insisted that the price was too high, but others were more easily persuaded to see their point of view. A practical, reasonable point of view.

Sometimes, the smaller things had to be… sacrificed for the greater good. And sometimes, those things were people. It was unfortunate, but nonetheless necessary. If the death of a few could mean a better future for many, how could they not elect to go down that road? The failure of affectionate leaders like the ones holding the reins of the crumbling beacon of moral high ground and democracy was, well, exactly that. Their moral high ground and democracy. If the countelss civilizations littering the unfathomable reaches of the Galaxy should've taught sentients one thing, it was that those things never worked out in the long run.

No. People needed a firm hand to guide them, even when they didn't exactly know what they wanted. Especially when they didn't know what they wanted.

And the populace of Roxuli? Unruly, disorganized, infected with crime? They would soon realize just what brand of order the One Sith brought.

The Dragon did not smile. The Dragon, in fact, didn't care about any of that.

His full attention was to the tsaisi magnus he just extracted from a chest, bubbling with blood as gravity aided his casual effort. With a wet, slickened sound, the body slid off the red blade, dropping onto the pile with little more than a whimper.

It was drowned out forever in the angry fires licking at the sides of makeshift buildings, lost to the din of society falling apart by the seams, to the screams and the cries and the stench of fear. Body fluids and char smeared the streets that had never been clean to begin with, now littered with cadavers and refuse of those who had fled to a distant, better place.

Whether that was Netherworld or offworld hinged solely on whether or not they could outrun a Slayer with a scent of blood and a thing to prove.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

Objective: B
Allies: [member="Kur-gal Kwaad"]
Enemies: The complexity of morality

Wails echoed in the night, their screams and the cacophony blistering against the darkness. So loud, so quiet. Blood trailed through the cobble, puzzling it's way to the drainage as it crusted over, red washed into seeps below. Maalik wasn't sure why he had decided to partake in this exemplary display of opportunistic hunger. He just knew that as the machine moves, the legs beneath follow. As he had shown on Contruum, he had an indifference for the mouth that yelled the command. Their intent, their desires, were merely not his concern. A slayer of the legion was a slayer of the legion, he didn't need to know why. And the hope for blood pushing out from the wound only cemented that as it dried, metallic and rust taken to elemental simplicity, he tasted life.

He watched with molten eyes, burning of indifference, as the fellow slayer pulled the weapon from the gut. Like a volcano with the top cut loose, the geyser of red-shot-steam would leak and ooze, suggestive in expression. A well located hit, a sure thing, and Maalik felt...nothing. His eyes turned back to the one beneath his grasp, the amphistaff coiling around the chest before wiggling up the body and towards the center of the stomach. The screams wouldn't stop the beast as it bit down and cut into the soft flesh of the gut. With slivering and cutting and hunger, the squirm and spasms of a body that was dying, it burrowed through and crawled up, coming out of the mouth agape as Maalik let the body loose from his grasp. Pulling out the amphistaff as the body fell, the weapon coiled around his chest and rested it's head upon the rondel of his shoulder, tucked beneath the armorweave robe.

He looked towards the fellow slayer, one that had come after but seemed uniquely determined. Ancient in purpose, unyielding and true. Maalik would tilt his head, the Chom-Huun upon his back whispering of it's own hunger. There were so many mouths to feed, the reel of their stomach pangs translated to whispers across the fibers that connected Vong with his Vong beasts. Another body to add to the collection, Maalik felt an overwhelming sense of indifference.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective B
Enemies: Roxuli Security Forces
Allies: [member="Dex Torture"] and Grymm Jaegir
Post: 1/20

Darth Azurea and her firrerreo apprentice, Dex Torture, landed in a nondescript spaceport on the planet of Roxuli. After securing The Pirate's Foe, the pair would receive orders in Bluff Resh from a One Sith intelligence officer who had been embedded inside a group called the Ubesian Death Squad, otherwise known as the Pra'kt'orai.

"Come, Apprentice Torture. Our contact is at a nearby cafe." A light rain fell upon them, and mist in the air was thick.

The two would enter the small and dreary stimcaf shop, but it was a welcome relief from the cold, wet weather. Darth Azurea didn't locate their contact by sight. She picked up his darkside Force signature right away. He was human and about the same age as herself. Using telepathy, she said to the young firrerreo: The Sith we need to speak with is at the third booth in the back. We will engage in small talk and use telepathy to exchange the actual plans.

Speaking softly in her normal voice, she said, "This will be good practice for you."

And with that, they both sat down across from the fellow Sith and greeted him warmly as though he were a friend or business acquaintance.

 

[Dex Torture]

Objective B
Enemies: Roxuli Security Forces
Allies: [member="Darth Azurea"]
Post 1/20

The cafe was busy many different species congregated and spoke in their native tongue, Dex wondered to himself how difficult the waitress job must be deciphering the many dialects as well as knowing which races preferred which meals, but that was neither here nor there and he quickly banished the thoughts.

This is quiet the meeting place master, who is the human we're supposed to be meeting? Dex whispered as they neared a dark force signature in the back of the establishment. Dex was just an novice in using telepathy and struggled using it while multitasking, he knew through his masters teachings that he would grow more prolific in the skill so he didn't worry to much about it, as for now he was directing all his attention towards the shadowy figure that sat before them and more so, the reason they had been beckoned.

As usual Darth Azurea set down and greeted the stranger with warm intentions, "She's quite the sith" the young acolyte thought to himself about his master. She possessed such grace and kindness when away from the battlefield, but wielded dark powers and plans beyond beliefs when opposed. Pulling a chair out beside her, the young firrerreo took his seat and readied himself for the next step, whatever the plans were he stood by his masters every decision.

 

[Ben Watts]

Objective A
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company Opposition
Allies: TBD
Post: 1/20


He was still weak from his first encounter with the One Sith. It was not easy having your memories ripped from your person, having a tattoo declaring your loyalty to the One Sith which slowly corrupted you over time, and then having to slowly prove your worth to the people you had been fighting your entire life. Luckily for Ben, dark side infused... things... were a bit of his specialty. He could stop most of the dark side energy from spreading and corrupting his thoughts. He understood it, what better way to ensure loyalty than by driving their members insane. Ben sought power, he did not seek friends or allies, but they were useful. The One Sith had ways to get power, and he would play along, but he made the terms. He always had.


None the less, he was still rusty, and now he was posing as a mercenary. He felt awkward holding a blaster rifle, he had not fired one in many years, he had no reason to. The men around him would surely be more accurate than he could ever hope but he had been in worse situations. He was to meet with Ileena Than, a smuggler or something of the sorts, a Jedi sympathizer which was something Ben could probably work with.

For now, though, he kept his mouth shut and he kept his finger off the trigger. He was a Sith now but that did not mean he would enjoy killing people.

 

[Darth Centax]

Objective A
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company
Allies: [member="Ben Watts"] and Co
Post: 1/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so10dKbhorI
Coming up on Target​

Still claiming his place in the One Sith himself, Kylath had been assigned to [member="Ben Watts"] team, wearing makeshift armor as one of the mercs, hell even his family name was undecided at this point! A brand new FFE Modular rifle in his hands, assault rifle sized today, loaded with 10mm armor piercing slug ammo, to his knowledge the first time it had been used. It looked sleek and fresh, much like the acolyte. His armor having to be swapped for a merc outfit did not sit well with him, it lacked the memory of previous battles, but was part of the mission.

A certain hutt defecting to the Sith after internal cartel troubles, left a whole cache of weapons, much like a galactic cold war ending, their stock had nowhere to be sold to! All up for the taking, Kylath had jumped at the chance for his squad, and it was their new guns first real test in the field. That did at least fit the merc profile, because the squad was kitted out in real rim world tech.

“Perimeter check seems secure.” Kylath’s helmet comm flicked on then off to [member="Ben Watts"], “setting up a holding pattern for the main approach,” so the 769th’s eight man support squad formed a makeshift guard, posing as mercs, their rifles so far slung. Once rookies, now they were slowly becoming real soldiers, more so with each world they fought on and every day they trained.

 

[Kelon Amadis]

Objective A
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company
Allies: [member="Ben Watts"] and Co
Post: 2/20

Mounting a frelling great missile launcher over his shoulder, Kelon’s lumbering form could be said to stand out, if he wasn’t staying way at the back, as always. An unusual Sith but then his training had only just begun, he was still at the me, me, me stage of his development, and given his nature might always be. Cocky and over confident, the Zeltrix took aim at kylath’s back for a moment before thinking the better of the gesture, and swinging his launcher back around, with an oh well maybe next time attitude, he pointed it downward.

Today he was wearing black armor, though far from standard, pieces taken from whatever rim world loot the Sith pirate had decided to raid, silvers and flashy gems betraying wealth, or at least its appearance. He really looked nothing like a trooper, he'd even outdone himself wearing all his trophies of his battles. The leeway he got from the Sith for their more exotic missions saw him offworld and out of Sithspace more often than not, and he always made sure to help himself at their enemies expense. Nobody really cared when they were dead, as long as he never failed them, he was aware that was critical to staying breathing.

The Zeltrix just grunted when the order was given to approach, with a sniff and a shrug, he clicked the back of his tongue against his teeth, keeping his large launcher pointed down so not to tip off the locals.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Objective A
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company Security Forces
Allies: OS 'Contractors'
[1/20]

[SIZE=10pt]It was a pit of a place, really. A backwater asteroid mining station that had fallen into disrepair and borderline chaos in the wake of the Republic’s partial collapse and a series of natural disasters. Ripe for the taking in the eyes of the powers that be of the One Sith. Too ripe, perhaps, a physical embodiment of ‘not worth the cost.’ Who wanted to trudge through so many layers of human filth to achieve what a single star destroyer could start and a good rebuilding program could finish? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]But there was value in even the nastiest work. It wasn’t every day you got to practice a zero-g assault on a space dock, and the operation would provide valuable hands-on experience for the Helldivers and likely allow Cyrus to write a whole series on of tacmemos based on lessons learned and critical do’s and don’t’s. Because every real soldier just loves writing tacmemos.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Sometimes you took what you could get.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]At least the operation had been meticulously planned, Cyrus had to hand it to the droid that had cooked things up. They were capitalizing on destabilizing factors already present, utilizing local support and resistance groups, and picking at the weakpoints already identified by forward recon elements. A far cry from the usual bombastic Sith wrack and ruin, perhaps it would be a nice change of pace.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Two modified shadow-class corvettes were acting as the motherships, and for several days now they had been accelerating slowly under baffle drive toward the outer edge of the space dock. Concealed mostly by local cover (read: asteroids) they had escaped detection almost perfectly, with one close call from a worn down tramp freighter neatly wrapped up by a volley of concussion missiles.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Tough luck for that merchant, but no one ever said plying the space lanes was easy.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Helldiver armor was not designed for zero-g combat, but it was self-contained and had an oxygen supply more than enough for the estimated twelve minute transit in vacuum. Jetpacks strapped to the back in place of the rear armor plates would provide for mobility, and surprise and skill were being counted on to give the troopers the main advantage. The RSF forces were not assessed to be particularly skilled or well-equipped, but they would likely have some of their best forces at the dock, and they had the advantage of fighting on familiar ground.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Cyrus made a final check on his armor, then turned and checked the man in front of him. Around him, thirty troopers were doing the same, all crammed into the back of one of the corvettes. Another thirty troopers were on the second ship, all running the same checks.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]A green light flicked on at the far end of the bay. Three minutes to operation start. To Cyrus’ right, the platoon leader pushed through the rows of troopers, giving only a slight nod in recognition as he passed. If he wondered why Cyrus had chosen to come along, he didn’t say. Cyrus himself wasn’t quite sure, it wasn’t as if he didn’t trust his Helldivers to handle the business on their own.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]A bit of exercise perhaps? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]The light flashed red and in an instant the compartment depressurized, followed a moment later by the bay door swinging open. In pairs the troopers walked off the ship into the endless void of space. [/SIZE]

 

[Six-O]

Objective: B - Further the Divide of budding enemies
Allies: [member="Kur-gal Kwaad"] | One Sith
Enemy: RSF
Post: 2/20

"Ms. Fara'r. . . MISS FARA'R!" A male voice made angry protest over the static snow of the HoloRadio.

It belonged to Mickel Crion, the public face of the Roxuli Secuity Force. He and Nora Fara'r, local news reporter for the Par'ediin Nightly Broadcast had been sparring for the better part of forty minutes now. Back and forth banter of accusations, veiled intimidation's, and all around passive-aggressive blathering.

"This News Station has done nothing but lampoon the RSF and further propagate an Inquisition of our conduct -- "

"By conduct you mean killing innocent civilians that are exercising their freedom of speech and protest? Is that what you're saying, because that's really the only color your Jackboots seem to like painting with." The News Anchored briskly fired back.

"Jackboots, ma'am? Please, don't be ridiculous. Let us not forget that we're in a state of emergency here and that any situation that has been met with violence by the Roxuli Security Force was either in equal response to aggression or in pursuit of protecting innocent lives." His voice was strong, very uniform.

"This is just from this morning. Seventeen people found -- "

"I won't go over this again, I won't continue to subject myself to this witch hun -- "

"SEVENTEEN people found in a single grave outside of the city, hands bound, mouths gagged, heads shot -- executed. All of them very vocal protesters about a private security force whose allegiance lies to a CORPORATION. . . "

"There is no proof the RSF had anything to do with that incident, and our role is to protect and serve the civilian population as equally as it is to protect and maintain order of the corporate assets of the Roxuli Ore Refinement & Shipping Company." Mickel cut her off once more.

"I'm sure the civilians of the Roxul Mining Colony would beg to differ on that, sir."

"I've had enough, " There was a sudden scuff of loud noise as the man unmistakenly wrestled the microphone off from his clothing.

"Perhaps you'd like to elaborate on a little place called The Void? Or maybe address the quality of life in the LowHab? No?"

"Yakot sya ta." Grymm Jaegir said lowly, he knew Galactic Basic well, in fact he could even speak it. But no True Ubese would ever lower themselves to let such foul syllables roll from tongue.

Together he and the Droid sat in a black paneled, full-sized Speeder. Rain beating it's sleek, stylish, sexy curves like the horrid drum of a marching phalanx on some distant battlefield of days long since past. The vehicle belonged to the brother of Eiryk Rawls, one of the local figureheads found shot earlier that day.

They'd been parked in front of a local Roxuli Security Force hot spot, the Twilight Arbor cantina, for roughly an hour. Many eyes had seen this vehicle, many faces had gazed at the obscured outlines of Droid and Grymm through deep tinted glass. But still they sat, waiting.

Now, the art of Destabilization seemed to have been lost in time, an ancient way of waging warfare almost as antique and out of fashion as he, Six-O thought. Recalling fondly upon days buried in his memory bank, of periods that an entire armada was not routine procedure for bathing his Galaxy clean of whichever Factions hostiles he was currently serving.

He likened it to death by one thousand cuts. Or a game of Dejarik, over the blitz of Smash Ball. Kill here, kill there. Work one side, then the other. Let them unravel, let the spool of thread unwind. When Society broke, when the chaos took hold firm and choked the population to blackening vision, the very cusp of unconsciousness or death. That's when you moved your biggest, and best pieces across the board. One starship, one General or Admiral. . . even a simple liaison could come in promising answers and stability and they would all but throw themselves prostrate at your feet. Victory on a budget.

Three knuckle raps caressed the watery window.

Six-O clicked the radio off and unrolled the tinted glass, outside the Speeder a woman hunched low, taking care to secure glance numerous times in both directions. It was safe.

"Forty-three marks, including Precinct Chief Derec Krask, five civs. Wait for the blue, and do try to be seen." Natalya Linsenkov, One Sith Intelligence Master Agent, informed. She had been one of the first assets tapped in the operation. She among other DeStab and MA's were working diligently in the civilian circles -- hers called themselves the Roxuli Radicals.

Through the window she hastily urged a small hand-held plunger detonator, and then as quickly as she arrived, the Agent known as Dreadwind, vanished once more.

They waited.

When finally red light turned blue, another thirty minutes had gone. The Speeder rumbled to life, powerful engine purring quite pretty. Grymm Jaegir pulled on a hood that slinked out from under his combat jacket and draped it over his helmet, obscuring the features of his breath-mask.

BOOM!!

The explosion was violent. The interior floor plan of the Twilight Arbor cantina vanished in the blink of an eye, evaporating in to an expanding cloud of dust and fragment deposits that stretched like balloon on helium tank out in to the street. The black speeder lurched, it's windows webbed viciously. Six-O accelerated once they met even hover level, half-circling in the chaos before slowing to a halt.

Grymm assertively popped the door open, boot scuffing wet, dirty duracrete as he stepped out in to the rain. There were cries of confusion, calls of help and agony. Smoke and soot clung like mud in the rain. One man was stumbling from the wreckage, body pocked and chewed up with a thousand leaking wounds, carrying one arm with the other. Swaying and dragging about as if the zombie plague had come back and taken him.

"Yrak pootzck!" The Ubese bellowed, blue beams of HoloPhones illuminating through the smog.

With pistol in hand he took aim and fired, head shot -- it burst like rotten fruit in clenching vice.

Drenched, the One Sith Contractor jumped back in the speeder and slammed the door. He and the Droid throttled off through the raining streets. Both always just a quick comm-call away from their allies in this operation.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Objective – B (Apply Terror Tactics in a Shadow War with the RSF)
Location: Airspace above Roxuli
Allies – One Sith
Enemies – Everyone Else
Post – [1/20]

Swamp gas. Although Konrad had already extensively tested this chemical before; he still enjoyed witnessing it blistering the skin of his enemies as they withered away. So it was rather disappointing to Konrad that he and his men were going to do a ‘fly by’ with this gas.

The plan was for corvette to fly past a Roxuli town in and drop swamp gas as they flew past. This would hopefully be picked up by the media and instil fear within the residents of Roxuli, worried it may happen again.

At least it will be on the news for me to watch Konrad thought to himself.

 

[Darth Centax]

Mission: Take out an Array, The hard way or easy way in?
Location: Approaching the Administration Dome, surface levels.
Allies: Ben Watts, Kelon Amadis
Post: 3/20

Time before, the waiting, stale helmet air permeating the tastebuds, the feel of the gun more urgent as each sound around them became more real. Individual acts of violence and terror were sounding off, and like Ben, Kylath had a harder time fighting those who could not defend themselves, so he'd picked those that could. He could do subtle, to a point, so he let the others carry on the charade forward, and took a detonator pack in hand to the first array he'd seen, latching it onto the side.

Not an explosives expert, he just strapped it on somewhere out of sight and mind, and rejoined the others.

Central Administration Dome.

Getting through the crowds was slow going, especially with the stirring panic. A ticking clock counting down behind, meant forward movement was important! The approach to the more fortified areas was steady so not to draw suspicion but eventually you had to hit a door, there was always a door. The zeltrix whistled to the door ahead of them, where a certain droid waited for their response.

“Designation,” a mechanical response, its place firmly behind a blast shield to the side of the door.

“We are here to secure admin, haven't you heard what's going on?” Kylath's helmet comm clicked on then off, the droid stopped what it was doing and looked about, getting reports of what was happening as it responded.

“Error inappropriate response, requesting supervisor.”

“Just who is this?” A young man, maybe in his early twenties, clearly dishelved by what was going on, budged his droid companion out of the way. Kylath's patience, such as it was, was wearing thin, his chest raised and fell betraying a bout of rage building, having no ability to simply trick the mind of the other.

Kelon's missile launcher had a way in, as the bigger man was at pains to remind their small group, with an aggravating click of his tongue again, but perhaps [member="Ben Watts"] had a quieter way into the building?

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective B
Enemies: Roxuli Security Forces
Allies: [member="Dex Torture"] and Grymm Jaegir
Post: 2/20

This was a different kind of mission than Darth Azurea was used to. It reminded her of a time when she was on Ziost with her former Jedi Master chasing down relic-hunters in an old Sith catacombs. She remembered sitting in the same type of cafe, wondering how she got there and pondering the meaning of her path thus far. She had been affected by Sith Magic that day. It was another puzzle piece that would eventually make up the entire picture of her fall to the darkside. But that day, she was naive and thankful for the magic which healed an old wound.

Their contact was named Twelve. Obviously not his real name. After a cheerful waitress took their order, they began the exchange of plans.

"This cafe has an interesting menu," remarked Darth Azurea. And then using telepathy she sent a message to both the intelligence officer and to Acolyte Torture:

What will you have us do?

"Yes, lots of unique delicacies," he replied.

You are to assault the HoloVision News Station and interrupt the daily report. Seize the station and broadcast information which will damn the RSF and cause riots across Par'ediin.

"I would like to try the soup," she said, nearly rolling her eyes at the banality of the conversation.

What is security like at the station?

"I hear it's very good."

He slid two square pieces of plastic across the table.

Lax. These badges will get you in. You will pose as station employees.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Objective A
Location: Outside the Roxuli Mining Facility Space Dock
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company Security Forces
Allies: OS Agents ([member="Ben Watts"], [member="Kylath Amadis"], [member="Kelon Amadis"])
[2/20]

The twelve minutes passed in silence. Directional laser comms were authorized, but unnecessary, each soldier knew their role exactly. It was a textbook surprise air assault, with only a slight modification to account for a slightly non-traditional method of insertion. There wasn’t much to be discussed when you were simply executing what you practiced on a daily basis. If anyone had last-minute jitters, they kept it to themselves. The Helldivers did not recruit rookies.

Sixty figures drifted in perfect darkness, the only light ahead of them the flashing red warning bars that marked the outer bay doors of the space dock. The structure, built on the outside of the asteroid, grew rapidly in Cyrus’ HUD. Now he could make out the gun ports that marked the handful of turbolaser and point defense cannon batteries. Those would need to be taken undamaged, they were the only defense against the expected assault force the planet would inevitably launch.

The first wave of troopers touched down silently on the outer walls of the dock. Like any structure that existed in vacuum, there were a number of small maintenance access doors that led inside, in case you wanted to do some EVA work without opening the main airlock. They were locked, of course, but it was basic routine stuff, easy to crack with a pocket slicer droid and a good crypto scrambler. The facility was designed to resist attacks from large easily detectable craft, not a stealth insertion.

One by one, the teams fell into position. There were three access’ that entered into the main dock area. All would be breached at once, each by a fireteam of 6 troopers. Forty-five seconds after the breach, a second assault force (a full platoon) would pop open the main airlock and make a frontal assault. The remaining two fire teams were hitting access’ farther away, and would secure the passageways leading to the port.

Now all that was left was to wait and hope that the other Sith units already inside the colony were in place. It was absolutely key that the alarm not be raised until after the port had been taken.

Cyrus checked the clock in the upper right corner of his HUD, and set a 10 minute clock. Countdown to H-Hour.

 

[Dex Torture]

Objective B
Enemies: Roxuli Security Forces
Allies: [member="Darth Azurea"]
Post 2/20

Dex took the sheet of plastic and placed it in his pocket, he wanted to question twelve about the Holovision News Station and the RSF but he remained silent as an apprentice should and opened a private telepathic chat between his master and himself.

"Master, it seems much to easy. Can our informant be trusted?" he took a the steaming bowl of soup from the waitress and nodded in acceptance. She placed identical entrees before his accomplices and after a few courtesy gestures took her leave.

While his master continued the telepathic conversation with the informant, dex inadvertently took a sip of soup from his spoon,"WOW, this soup is actually quite good." commented dex before he could catch himself. He raised an embarrassed eye to the unsettling gaze of twelve and instantly wished he could retract the involuntary word vomit, the acolyte looked back down at his soup and recanted back to his silence. After a few minutes more of useless banter the meeting reached its conclusion and they all took their leave, dex opened the door for his master and as she walked pass he whispered in her ear "That's soup was really good tho, I should have got some to go." and with a smile he closed the door behind them.

There was a short journey to the HoloVision News Station, the rain casted off of his hood and rolled down his cheek, the weather had become quite violent as the wind swirled within the folds of their robes, leaving them flailing frantically as lightning crackled like an angry whip of gold in the sky. The flashes of light illuminated the shadows of figures inside the building as they neared, infatration would be their first task as he waited on word from his master, "I guess we don't have to worry much about being heard with this storm abrew."

 

[Kelon Amadis]

Objective A
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Company
Allies: [member="Ben Watts"], [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], Kylath Amadis
Post: 4/20

Central Administration Dome

Missile launcher brought to bear, all sense of subtlety was going out of the window now. “Fire for effect.” Was all the Zeltrix said, which had new meaning, as he’d just taken a share of that particular company, and he was as always being cocky. Those at the front got well down, and right on cue the door ahead of them was blown to smithereens, smoke fire and shock on the supervisor's face as he watched his world fall apart.

“Entry to the central administration achieved, have the perimeter defenses down in a sec” Kelon’s voice radioed in to [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], looking at the downed defenses with a smug self-satisfied smile. Though perhaps with less tact than the military would have wanted, because their small squad was about to bear the brunt of more than one local security squad, but their mission didn't call for any specifics, just mayhem, which he could do just fine.

Thankfully [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] was landing a lot more men to help the advanced team. Kelon didn’t care about any of that, he just had a job to do. Flexing his new metallic glove he punched through the control booths glass, and ripped out its supervising occupant, throwing the man behind him into a wall. There better be some loot at the end of this! The droid was smashed on its head by a huge metal fist, crushing several of its logic circuits, and it began beeping awkwardly.

There was more than one way into a compound.

 

[Darth Timoris]

[Post=1/20]​

Objective: Getting into the groove..
Location: In space
Allies: None
Enemies: None

She stalked out into the corridor, drawing on the Force.

She was glad she'd come. In fact, when she reached the Roxuli system in a few hours days, she’d decided to seek a new Acolyte. She had one or maybe two at present. Both were on solo missions and there was a chance neither would survive.

And she needed to train. In part because it was how she learned. In teaching others, she improved her own Abilities. She was a hands-on Sith in every sense.

She loved having her hands full, pushing apprentices to extend their boundaries. Almost the opposite of the Jedi, who feared their charges would tip over to the Dark-side if not carefully managed.

The starlines cleared away, and a small and distant red sun appeared in the the cockpit’s viewports.

Right on schedule…

 

[Ben Watts]

Objective A
Take Out Communication Arrays ( Success! ) Now we infiltrate
Enemies: Roxuli Mining Corporation
Allies: [member="Kelon Amadis"] [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] [member="Kylath Amadis"]
2/20

"That is one way to get in." Ben said with a laugh as he watched the scene before him. Casually he stepped into the room and he stared at the control panels in front of him. They might as well have been in a different language as he did not understand how to shut them down, he just hoped the guy next to him did, and after a few seconds it seemed like everything had gone swimmingly. Well, aside from the whole entering by force thing, but it was still pretty cool.

"So the easy part is done," Ben said casually looking at the two men with him in the room. It was quite strange, he was merely a Sith Acolyte, but he still carried the air of authority that he always had. He had been the leader many times and it just felt natural to him. "Next we are infiltrating a pirate infested area. Lots of fun you should have." Ben said smirking at Kelon.

"So I am terrible with this thing," lifting his blaster he showed them what he was referring to. "You should take point. I will hang back and do my best, I can boost all of us with a bit of Battle Meditation, it won't be much but if you can keep them off of me I can at least do that. Once we get through the tunnels we are heading to the Upperhab. Easy peasy, right?"

 

[Lucille Kearnes]

Objective B
Enemies: Roxuli Security Forces
Allies:
Post 1/20


The transport shuttle was a clean and pristine shuttle, capable of ferrying its payload quickly to and from the One Sith’s territory to Roxuli where it could best deploy its great and terrible weapon of the Order against their enemies. In this case, that payload was Lucille Kearnes and that great, terrible weapon of this Acolyte was more burden than mighty hammer to shatter the ribcage of the enemies. Sometimes, you simply have to make do.

The shuttle was a factory product. Rolled out from an assembly line with a swiftness to meet demands and specifications, comfort was not a commodity and so was cast out to reduce construction time and to further expand the space to allow for it to deliver a decent sized contingent as needed.

Lucille sat alone in that cargo space of the transport, the easily sensed nervousness and fear at the unknown nagging at the depths of her gut, butterflies in her stomach, fluttering about to cause no end of upheaval. She sat forward, the folds in her dark tunic and trousers creasing as her elbows rested on her thighs. Hands cupped around her mouth, she exhaled the softest of sighs into them and closed her eyes in expectation. She stood to her feet and stepped into the cockpit. Peering out the transparisteel cockpit at the red sun of the system.

“Ma’am.” The lone pilot commented loosely. His gaze never shifting from his post, a hand flicking a switch above head in preparation for their descent. “We’re almost there.” He offered to her with a brisk nod and she stepped back out into the cargo bay to prepare for the mission.

She slipped out of the more ‘traditional’ clothing of the Sith acolyte, opting for the simple rugged wears of a Spacer at home, a concealed holster holding a mundane blaster pistol of ubiquitous design. Small and lacking in any true power, for defense more than anything else.

The crisp crimson glow of the warning light for the cargo bay’s door changed rapidly to a sickly green luminescence as the shuttle touched down and the lone Acolyte stepped out once the door opened. She took that moment to admire the splendor of Par'ediin, she was from Nar Shaddaa any city that wasn’t scar marked with the neon glow of brothels and cantinas was splendid.

She had her objective from her master and she had ideas of how to go about them. Now it was just a matter of putting thought to action. With neither smile, frown or sigh, she stepped forth into the city proper. How hard could it truly be?

 

[Darth Timoris]

[Post=2/20]​

Objective: Getting into the groove..
Location: In space
Allies: [member="Lucille Kearnes"]
Enemies: None

On her command console, a warning light flashed as the Infiltrator reached the planet. From the Infiltrator’s bridge, the world was clearly visible through her viewport. She consulted her sensor screens for the coordinates of the shuttle her Acolyte was on. The vessel's last noted location. From that point in space, an invisible trail of charged particles led off toward the planet. The Infiltrator's sensors confirmed that the particles had been left in the wake of the parting ship's sublight engines. Darth Maul piloted the Infiltrator toward the point and entered the planet's orbit.

Some Sith names inspired fear. Lucille was not one, but then Melori wasn’t precisely a scary name either.

But Timoris? It was an old Sith word. It meant the owner of fear. Fear was her ally. And her Acolyte would learn the benefit of the fact.

Melori did not mind waiting. She always used her time wisely. Waiting time is training time. Every minute of her life is devoted to learning the glorious Sith tradition as well as hard physical training. She keeps herself in a constant state of readiness. When she meets Jedi she is at the peak of her power. She numbers amongst the strongest fighters in the galaxy.

And this is the discipline she had already installed in her young charge. If she was successful on this mission, she would take her as an Acolyte.

For every training exercise has value, even the most basic ones. There had been only one to date. It was simple. Lucille would run up a wall. She would start from one end of the training room and run toward the wall. She would take several steps up the wall with her momentum and then flip over to land on her feet. Over and over, even as her leg muscles burned with fatigue. If she missed, she could have broken her neck. Still, Melori made her continue. There is no fear in a Sith. Training drives out fear. The greatest thing she will teach her latest Apprentice is about the Sith tradition to be prepared to lose her life at any time.

When she was an Acolyte herself, this was a basic exercise Melori could not master. She suffered many blows on the head and shoulders as, without the necessary strength, she fell backward. She would try to cushion her fall with her hands.

Never break a fall, her Master would say. If you are prepared to break your fall, you are prepared for the fall itself. Sith do not fall. They do not fail.

So, unable to break the fall, the next time she would fall more painfully than before. Soon her body was covered with bruises.

Her Master would say this: There is no pain where strength lies. Do it again.

Her head spinning, her bones aching, her legs trembling, she would do it again. And again she would fall.

There is no pain where strength lies. Say it!

There is no pain where strength lies, Master.

Do it again!

Each part of my training prepared her, and now she reaps the benefits of her struggle. Now she never falls.