Junction The Sundering Dawn | Act II: Galaxy in Crisis (Chapter 2 | Crimson Wake)

[Darth Empyrean]

Objective II | Crimson Wake
Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf

Hurricane‑force snow peeled layers of paint from the shuttle’s heat‑tiles before landing struts found purchase on a makeshift repulsor pad of glowing orange ferrocrete. Seconds after touchdown the blizzard swallowed the sky again, casting the expedition party into a grainy tunnel of white where vibro‑compass needles spun uselessly. Flood‑lights stabbed outward and revealed row upon row of obsidian sarcophagi half‑entombed in the ice—carbonite graves resonating with a subsonic hum that chattered across helmet comms. Somewhere beneath, undead silhouettes scraped at transparent frost, locked forever in a twitching salute.

Forward scouts unpacked atmosphere tents that snapped rigid in cutters’ arcs of blue plasma. Inside, holotables flickered alive with the triangle‑and‑line glyph, overlaid on a subterranean schematic showing Vault A‑9 three kilometers southwest and ninety meters down. The path was a gauntlet of fissured crevasses and rogue carbonite geysers capable of flash‑freezing a sentient in seconds. Navigators passed around echo‑locators tuned to the backward pulse—thump‑thump… thump‑thump…—that every dreamer had felt. The beat now pulsed through the ice like a hidden sub‑ocean tide, guiding and mocking at once.

Breakthrough crews advanced with mag‑torches, seismic hammers, or ritual censer‑flames—each faction choosing its method. As the first blast door emerged from the glacier’s clutch, Sith acolytes began carving runes of binding while Jedi healers prepared bacta for frostbite triage. Mandalorian shock‑troops laid breaching charges, and corporate salvage drones snaked cables toward the vault’s data port, hoping to skim profits before history sealed them in footnotes. Beyond the reinforced iris lay midichlorian‑rich stasis chambers and the rumored Crimson Cauterizer—a living lattice that could stitch reality or rip it wider. The ice moaned overhead like a warning. One heartbeat, backward, then another. The door groaned, the wind screamed, and the expedition pushed into the dark, each footstep crunching on snow that had never known the warmth of a living sun.

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Odrin Rath Commodore Helix The King in Red | OPEN | //:
//: Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf//:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: IQA-11 , LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Odacer‑Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf//:
//: Objective II | Crimson Wake//:​

A glacier waste land, no signs of life. The ground was riddled with ice and snow. Gusts of chilling wind uncovered parts of frozen bodies peeking through the snowy ground. As the snow storm rages on howling, thick sheets of snow pushed sideways. The whole planet was engulfed in white and death.

Laying in the snow with a snow covered lightly tan cloak blending in with the surroundings, CT-312 was inspecting the landing site. Waiting. Surprised with the recent events and assignments. Not knowing what the Game Master was up to now. Being given two different tasks for this mission. Retrieve whatever artifact or items that was down here and evaluate the new batch of Troopers. Déjà vu, it felt like. She recalled her time back in the Star Destroyer's detention cell block.

—

A metal tray of food was delivered to CT-312 as she laid in the uncomfortable short bed. Thinking about all the times she’s been sent to ‘reflect’. Looking at the tray it was the basic food groups: protein, veggies, and carbs. How mundane. Slowly eating the tasteless food, CT-312 froze in place. Images of blinding snow and frosted planes, bodies standing like statues as if they were guarding something. Suddenly a crimson fissure erupted, ripping the glacier in half. The confused Scout Trooper could hear her own heartbeat as these images continued to flash in her eyes and mind. There was a stone archway that turned into spiral staircases going into the darkness. Something was moving down there.

CLANK

The sound of her fork dropping to the ground brought CT-312 to the present. Blinking. Not knowing what to make of what just happened. ‘Was the food bad?’ , grabbing the fork and placing it on the unfinished eaten tray. Setting it aside. Whatever was in the food, clearly was a hallucinogen. What was the Game Master up to?

Pneumatic door to her cell block opened suddenly. It was time.

—

The sound of multiple assault gun dropships landing caught CT-312’s attention. Raising her sniper rifle she waited. Recalling the Game Master’s words. “You’ve been assigned an additional task to the mission. Evaluate and eliminate any problematic recruits in this new batch. Just how you went through the trials, now it’s their turn. Don’t interfere with nature’s course. Oh, You and the Troopers will have some other company. Try not to embarrass yourself!” The bay’s of each drop ship opened, lowering their ramps. Squads of Troopers exited out, not knowing what to expect. As CT-312 stood up, snow fell off the cloak, crunching could be heard as her boots stepped in the snow and god knows what else as she walked over. Occasionally the cold bypassed the cloak, piercing through her armor. Sending chills to her bones. ‘Evaluate and eliminate’ words echoing in her mind. If they were problematic to the mission, that’s easier said than done.

As the majority of ships left, the new batch of Troopers were talking amongst themselves. Confused why they were sent to this frozen place. CT-312, blended in with the batch. Keeping a bit of a distance away from the main group of Troopers. Observing. The last ship finally departed and the Troopers that were left were familiars. They walked over towards the cloaked Scout Trooper. Slow panic, a couple of screams, and yelling could be heard as the new batch began to realize the ground they were standing on may not be entirely ground, but corpses.

“Of course we’re cursed with these frigid missions. You’d think they’d send us somewhere warm by now!”, TK-3232 the Flame Trooper spoke loudly.

“Careful what you wish for, before you know it they’ll send us back into the dessert ahaha.” the Imperial Marine, TK-2142 chuckled.

“312” a simple deep loud tone boomed through the Shield Trooper, MB-1782 who towered over CT-312.

Nodding back at the three, not realizing she had a small smile appear on her face underneath her helmet. It was always good to see a familiar face or Trooper. Especially in this desolate frigid planet. CT-312 wondered if they were given the same mission as well. Maybe the Game Master chose to send some insurance along with the new batch. Making sure the mission succeeded even if the new batch failed.

“Good to see you all are alive.” the cloaked Camo Scout Trooper expressed.
“Been a while since Woostri eh?” , nodding back.
“Woostri? Try Hoth. Right MB-1782, that ice cube of a planet!”, the Flame Trooper shouted
“That.” MB-1782 pointed at the spire reaching high above the blizzard swirling around them.

“Our mission objective. Let’s get to it” CT-312 simply responded. Unexpectedly, the three saluted and went to a new batch of Troopers. Herding them to the spire. As they near it, it became apparent that there were graves surrounding it. Giving off the impression that the dead were guarding this place from intruders. She realized, the air here was heavy and thick. Just like the empty facility that was filled with horrors on Hoth. Remembering the words of Commodore Helix during that mission. The Scout Trooper relayed in her private comms amongst the three, “Ignore any visual and auditory hallucination. Let the new batch figure things out themselves”.

"Seeing and hearing random stuff? Where did they send you guys?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know"

CT-312 reminded them of their first mission. What the Game Master said to all of them as they dropped drop pods on fellow Troopers, "Expect the unexpected."

Doors groaned as they opened. The wind screamed, couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside the tomb spire or if it was outside. The new Troopers stepped in first, all jittery and scared. CT-312 would let nature run its course. Watching from behind as caboose. The other three slowed their paces, waiting on her lead. “I was told we’ll be expecting company.” Waiting and checking to see if any others will be joining in before the decent to the unknown darkness.

“Sith Lords most likely. Haven’t had the pleasure of running into one yet”
“How can you tell?” questioned the Flame Trooper.
“If they don’t look like us. Then they’re a Sith Lord.”
“Deductive reasoning. I like it”
"Just don't get in their way"

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Crimson //:
//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: Attire //:

A Few Days Prior​

Allyson woke to another nightmare. They weren't the usual kind—faces of people she'd betrayed or watched die. No, these were different.

Sometimes, they were about Corellia, sometimes about her sister being alive in the galaxy. This particular dream had haunted her in fragments over the last few days. Allyson sat up, struggling to catch her breath. Resting a hand on her chest, she could still feel the lingering cold from the dream.

Allyson realized she didn't recognize the room as her eyes began to wake up. Her eyes darted around it until she recognized it as her own, though it didn't feel like home. It was rare for her to be here in her own bed. Something felt off.

The Corellian soon relaxed as her heart finally settled into its usual rhythm, and her breathing steadied. Beside her, a frustrated whine was muffled into the pillow. She wasn't alone. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a certain Minister, clearly unhappy that she'd woken at this hour. Allyson tilted her head with a sigh. Hesitantly, she threaded her fingers gently through the soft mess of blonde hair beside her. "I'm sorry, it was another one…"

Her free hand rubbed the base of her neck, the glyph that had appeared the previous night burning yet oddly cold at times. "I think this is connected; it burns every time," she whispered, fingers lightly tracing what felt like a fresh branding. Whatever was happening was clearly more than just a 'bad dream.' "Yeah, I gotta figure this out…" She started to move but was interrupted. "Hmm?"

Madelyn had made an attempt. Her hand rested gently on the Corellian's forearm, offering a brief moment of understanding and comfort. Allyson paused and accepted the gesture for what it was until an annoyed huff signaled the moment had passed and it was time to try sleeping again.

---

Odacer-Faustin, Silent Meridian Polar Shelf
Still some ways away from the others​

The crunch of snow beneath her boots was a sound Allyson hadn't wanted to hear again anytime soon. Hoth felt far too recent for her liking. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she remembered the Commonwealth agent's offer. She could secure a full First Order uniform if she really wanted to. The amusing thought gave Allyson a sudden pep as they pressed onward.

Their objective was clear: find the gate she'd seen repeatedly in her dreams. Just thinking of it made the small brand on her neck burn, an undeniable indicator that everything was connected. But why was she receiving these visions? She was just some silly Corellian with a bow, and her role was minimal compared to figures like Empyrean, Taeli, or even Valery Noble. The more she thought about these dreams, the less sense they made.

The snowy terrain grew more predictable as they continued down their current path, each step fitting into prints seemingly made long ago. Instinct told Allyson they were on the right track, but something else warned her they weren't alone. She was starting to regret bringing the Minister along. Going on a suicidal mission herself was one thing, but risking someone she cared about was entirely another. Still, she knew better than anyone: once Madelyn Lowe decided, there was no change.

Madelyn had seemed unusually determined to accompany her. Allyson briefly wondered if that awkward moment of comfort she'd offered had contributed to her decision.

Pausing, Allyson remembered Madelyn couldn't use the Force to keep herself warm. It was a basic skill Jyoti had drilled into her relentlessly when she was younger. She stopped and turned back toward the blonde woman who had surprised her by insisting on joining her.

"You could've stayed on the ship," Allyson reminded the Varonati gently. "It's pretty cold here." Allyson paused and tilted her head. "I don't know how well you're managing in that survival gear." Allyson gave Madelyn a playful thumbs-up and then a thumbs-down, indicating that a gesture alone would suffice as an answer.

The chill ran deep, settling into Allyson's bones, but they had to push forward further. If she had correctly interpreted her dreams, they were close. Still, if they needed to make camp, she was prepared. Allyson waited until Madelyn caught up before leaning closer, offering warmth through the Force by extending her hand slightly.

Something had been nagging at her the entire trip. Finally, she asked the question she'd been holding back, "Why did you want to come?" as she asked, Allyson couldn't hide the small smile that appeared. Though the worry lingered, she was genuinely glad not to deal with this alone.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled, but—" She stopped, staying close, reaching out gently with the warmth of the tapas she'd summoned. Allyson hesitated, suddenly vulnerable. "Yeah, I was just surprised," she finished softly. Realizing she'd let her guard down, she quickly covered the moment with sarcasm. "We're pretty far from the jungle you're used to," she teased quietly.

Spoiler: Tags

CT-312 Odrin Rath Commodore Helix

 

[The King in Red]

The wind screamed.

But it wasn't just the gale anymore.

As the last of the new batch stepped into the spire's mouth—some with rifles shaking in their grips, others pale beneath their helmets—something shifted. Not in the storm, not in the snow… but in the air itself. A change in pressure. A subtle tug, like gravity itself leaning sideways.

CT-312 would feel it first. A ripple through the ice beneath her boots—no tremor, just a sensation, like standing atop a heartbeat. The spire was not dormant. It never had been.

Behind them, the whine of repulsorlifts did not fade with distance. A new ship descended. Not one of theirs.

It came down slow, silent, a sleek arrowhead of dark alloy untouched by frost. No insignia. No landing lights. Just the hiss of steam as its belly opened to the white.

From it emerged a figure. Robes that bled into the snow until they caught the dim red gleam of a plasma torch igniting from their belt—not drawn, but alive. The figure didn't move with the rigid posture of a soldier. They drifted forward like a shadow cast before the flame. No visible breath escaped the mask they wore. No name was spoken.

The veterans would know. You felt a Sith Lord before you saw one. And this one had eyes you could not see—but still felt on your skin, like coals pressed to flesh.

The figure halted just before the entrance of the spire. One hand touched the frozen wall. Ice crackled, pulled back like an obedient curtain. The door was wider now.

CT-312's comm sparked with static before clearing. A voice—smooth, modulated, and without haste—slid through:

"You may proceed, Commander. I will walk among your dead… and see which still have use."

Then silence. The figure waited, letting the blizzard cloak them once again. Whether they were to follow behind or move ahead was left unsaid.

Just a presence. Like a blade left half-drawn. Waiting for someone else to decide if it would be used.

CT-312