Dominion Crucifixion | Dominion of Generis | NIO

[Cromwell]

PENTASTAR OPERATION
PART 2 | CRUCIFIXION
New Imperial Order​

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G E N E R I S
867 ABY

The Sith-Imperial Remnant's retreat from Dantooine was not a mere rout but a carefully devised plan to lure the New Imperials to Generis where the Sith spring their trap. In the midst of the fighting for the world, a black hole is opened in the sky by the Sith utilizing allegedly the Crufixion Engine which the New Imperials sought to acquire during their invasion of Generis earlier.

Faced with impending doom and a ticking clock, the New Imperials must somehow close the black hole and stem the tide of suicidal Sith lunging at their front lines.

G E N E R I S
OBJECTIVE I | THE END OF TIME
FOCUS | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS, SPECIAL FORCES, AGENTS
ZONE OF OPERATION | RAKATAN TEMPLE
OPPOSING | SITH SORCERERS & SITH ENGINEERS
​

Time is running out. You are on the precipice of apocalypse. The Rakatan Temple has become the conduit of destruction as Sith Sorcerers and Sith-Imperial Engineers are allegedly those that stand behind the opening of the black hole. As everything around you is torn asunder by the black maw in the sky, you must cut the head of the snake and put an end to the cataclysm.

G E N E R I S
OBJECTIVE II | APOCALYPSE NOW
FOCUS | ARMED FORCES
ZONE OF OPERATION | KILLING FIELDS
OPPOSING | SITH-IMPERIAL REMNANT TERRORISTS
​

The Killing Fields. Where once used to be a thick jungle, the black hole in the sky swallowing the surface has completely distorted the battleground. New Imperial forces engage with suicidal Sith-Imperial remnant combatants under the apocalyptic gaze of the black hole. Receive your last rites as this is your final day in the galaxy - buried under soot and ash, bodies of comrades filling the trenches and with no hope in sight.

B Y O O
OBJECTIVE III​

Whatever gets you to post, chief.

​

 

[Aleksander Castellanos]

PENTASTAR OPERATION

G E N E R I S

OBJECTIVE I | THE END OF TIME
FOCUS | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS, SPECIAL FORCES, AGENTS
ZONE OF OPERATION | RAKATAN TEMPLE
OPPOSING | SITH SORCERERS & SITH ENGINEERS

Chelenne Akaris

'TEMPEST'

​

Knight-Captain Aleksander Castellanos was very displeased.

Displeased that he wasn't already on the ground with his troops, displeased of the circumstances of his rushed reassignment- but most importantly, displeased that he would now be missing breakfast chow.

Heavy boots carried the man onboard the dropship. Dressed in his IKBA, Castellanos found himself rather.. out of place. Assigned to a an ISB agent unfamiliar with him, he was only given the simple details of the operation.

Protect the Agent. Identify Target. Eliminate Target Extract the Agent.

It was a simple operation, and with the orders being handed down from Master Fel, he knew that it held significant importance to the overall operation. Considering the oncoming blackhole, he'd shove any doubt he had into the back of his mind. "Agent Akaris." Aleksander said, the speakers on his helmet projecting his voice. As all parties boarded the shuttle, it'd shudder and lurch, detaching itself from the larger ship and diving into atmosphere, towards the Sith temple. From beneath his black visor, he'd take a look at the squad around him- and a pang of envy of their black armor and attire hit him. He always found it more fitting than their white battlearmor. Regardless, both his hands planted themselves on his hips for a moment, confirming the presence of a lightsaber on both sides. "Knight-Captain Castellanos." Was his own, simple introduction. Due to his hasty transfer, a proper introduction hadn't been something he was afforded. Even in the presence of a black hole, he wouldn't let loose his regality.

The dark presence below them began to weigh on him as they tore through the atmosphere. It was a harsh feeling. A familiar feeling, a feeling from before Rurik Fel had corrected his path. Regardless, he knew of the Sith's intent, and he knew of the pressing mission ahead. Silently to those around him, he'd release a uneasy breath before composing himself, and his helmet's speakers spoke his words once more. "I'm at your disposal." Aleksander said to the agent. "Let's get through this- expeditiously." He wasn't one for pep-talks.

 

[Xeykard]

Objective I | Aleksander Castellanos Chelenne Akaris | OPEN
​

"Yes! YES!" A guttural, near-joyous roar escaped him as the feeling of the device overcame him.

Xeykard was no scientist, sorcerer, or scholar. He did not understand the machine, the way it worked, nor did he care for that or those who operated it. All he knew was the power it held and the feeling it gave him. He was a Sith; a true one, in his mind. A Sith both sought and respected power. He reveled in destruction, in the raw chaos exemplified by the great device.

Yet ever the doubts crept in his mind, a plague of second thoughts. Was the Empire not meant for stability, order even, against the chaos of the Jedi and the like? No, no; he reassured himself. The 'Sith Order' was an oxymoron; a Sith could not stand for a true 'order'. That was why they fought the Imperials today. The order they fought so hard to achieve was for naught when there were still Sith to sow chaos and destruction.

He could only smile. He bathed in the darkness that seemed heavy to some; it enveloped his mind, pushing him beyond even what he believed himself willing, or even capable -- beyond reason and clarity that so often found him. None of that. Only hate, passion, destruction. Chaos.

While the sorcerers continued along with their lackeys, Xeykard stepped out of the temple's main chamber, taking position outside. The Imperials would come in desperation to stop them. He drew his saber, eager for their arrival, his roaring laughter echoing almost as loud as the device itself.

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

I N S U R G E N T
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// ELIMINATE HOSTILE TARGET | DARTH EMRE \\
Aleksander Castellanos | Xeykard

A pink bubble popped with the obnoxious strain cast against it by her breath, collapsing on itself to be drawn back in and put through the wringer, each round as mindless as the last as manicured fingers swiped over the screen of her datapad, reviewing what little intelligence she had actually been provided for this assignment. And, just as she had the first time, upon seeing she was being assigned an Imperial Knight, she sighed softly with disappointment. The Force Corps' involvement likely meant she wouldn't run into that Spectre she so delighted in hazing, Varian Dyre, though perhaps the Knight she was handed for this task would be equally amusing.

She doubted it, but still, a girl could hope.

The Zeltron had forgone her lighter, less-than-modest attire for this mission and instead opted for a catsuit stretched firm around her figure and given greater durability with a chest plate and gauntlets. Her legs were left unarmored, though the knee boots she sported offered some protection in the form of thin plates. What she lacked in durability, however, she more than made up for with the versatility and dexterity provided by her lighter adornments, both fields which she utterly excelled in. The lonesome agent was only just checking over the stun blaster and carbine she had brought along with her when the seal doors hissed open, granting entry to the rest of the party.

At the helm of the group was a familiar suit of armor, the Knight, no doubt. Chelenne squinted at him, crystalline eyes judging him with silent regard as he approached, and briefly did her attention shift to those around him. Support, more or less, the infiltration team had to be for them. Resistance was expected, and though she suspected she could have infiltrated this place alone, it was unwise to do so with so much Darkside energy present. The last thing she wanted was to deal with was scars after the fact. Her inquisitive features morphed into a friendly smile, one more suiting of her, and she nodded her head with the curt introductions she was afforded.

He was anxious, she could almost taste it coming off him.

"Oh, it's an absolute pleasure, Knight-Captain Castellanos." The agent hummed, reaching up to flick a hand at the ponytail resting over her shoulder, casting it back behind her, "Don't worry yourself, try to enjoy the little dance. But if you're so troubled, I'll be fast." It seemed she was incapable of speaking in any manner that wasn't sensual- that purring voice of hers rolled off her tongue as smooth as silk.

The announcement of their descent saw her grasp onto the overhead handle above the drop door, holding steady as the ship lurched and rocked to navigate through the tumultuous atmosphere and skies beneath. The rage she felt almost instantaneously made her shudder and with the same haste, she shut it out, isolating her emotions from it to avoid the insidious effects. "Deep breaths, Knight-Captain. It'll be over before you know it." An amused giggled departed her, as her gaze did from him, and instead, she focused out the window.

<"Landing in twenty seconds, standby."> their pilot announced over the PA, prompting the other soldiers in their company to rise and move to line up properly behind the two of them.

Chel tucked her earpiece into place and blew one last bubble, keeping her stance loose to absorb each bump and jostle of the unsteady motions with her hips. <"Comcheck, you got me?"> she asked, speaking into the channel designated for their operation, and when the trooper behind her affirmed, she continued: <"The mission is simple: we're to make one very problematic Sith Lady a lot less problematic. Target is Darth Emre, a Sith Sorceress with a penchant for summoning wretched creatures and ugly things that'll make your hair stand up. We can expect her cultish followers to be guarding her, and it's believed she's on the fringes of this mess, thankfully, making her more accessible."> A steady, passionate gaze fixed on Aleksander's visored face, searching the expressionless helmet for the very things she could feel from him, <"Any questions?">​

 

[Djonas Val]

Xeykard

It was the end of the world.

This world.

Yet these Sith zealots didn't flee. They held fast for some odd reason. Was it loyalty or stupidity? The first he couldn't blame. Glancing down to his right arm, once flesh, the transformation to metal was... Haunting. Loyalty is what got him this. This... Second chance at life. To serve the New Order? It's people were more important. But he had already come to terms with it when he had first risen post operation. If his continued living would safeguard the people of the New Imperial Order, then he would continue to live on. Whether as machine, or man. The mission would be the same.

Rolling his shoulders, the Gray Cloak could hear the whirring of the smaller pieces working.

The Knight-Cyborg descended down the ramp of the shuttle he had come down in. Stormtroopers charged past him, already firing ahead to engage the final vestige of the Sith's hold on the planet. Remnant legionnaires and Sith alike had taken up position here.

Djonas ignored the former, both artificial and organic oculi scanning the Temple, before a towering figure stepped out from the dark interior of the darkness shrouded Temple. A Sith.

The Imperial Knight made no hesitation in his approach, on occasion forming a barely perceptible barrier of the Force to shield himself from a stray bolt.

"Give up, Sith." Staring up at the towering Barabel, the Gray Cloak already anticipated the Sith's answer. Reaching down to his belt, he produced the silver hilt of the Force Corps, slowly beginning his climb up the steps. "Kneel before the Might of the Order."

 

[Saaveina]

F A L L I N G S T A R S
Q U E E N O F S W O R D S
OBJ | DO WHAT MUST BE DONE
OPEN FOR INTERACTION

The clash of battle was nearly drowned by the howling groans of the abyss opening overhead, darkening the skies beneath an onyxian blanket the likes of which the Codru-Ji had never witnessed. Beneath the blood-tainted helmet she wore, wolfish eyes gleamed upward, transfixed by the ravenous mouth that yawned in threat, icing her veins. Yet, discipline called her, soothing her nerves and gathering her calm as the parabola of chaos rose. Hot breaths deflated her chest, sending her focus forward and her staves in whirl, slinging the crimson stains from their hilts in equal time as she examined the wasted remnants lain about her boots in unmoving pieces. It was a grim duty, to defend from the Darkness, but one she embraced fully, never allowing doubt or hesitation slip her hand.

It was her duty to restore and protect Order.

It was her duty to cast judgment.

And it was her duty to enforce it.

Saaveina strode forward, pressing the assault as her comrades charged alongside her, relying on her reflex to shield them from the next defensive barrage they would suffer. One hand passed the hilt of her staff to the lower limb before rushing forward to manifest her will. Beaming silver painted her in its radiant glow as the enforcement of her bulwark unfurled its paradoxical petals, reaching wide enough to shield the formation arranging itself behind her. <"Prepare for battery, stand fast!"> her voice projected from her, steady in its depth. And when the precognitive senses she did not command wailed in alarm, her march came to a halt. Heels twisted themselves into the deconsecrated earth, anchoring her position. Sabers fizzled to dormancy, clipped swiftly. Three idle hands rose to their other, bolstering the shield wall.

The distant whistle of an incoming projectile cried above the clamor. Seconds passed in mere heartbeats. The Knight drew a deep breath, deepening her bond with the barrier she maintained, focusing on its purpose more than the act itself. She would protect these soldiers. She would see them through until the very end when the New Imperial Order had swept the menace from this world clean. The collision was as deafening and rattling as the first couple had been, that plasmic comet smashed into her barrier with the force of gravity and momentum that cast it, shaking her to her core. The impact slammed into her armored hands through the gossamer veil they projected, though she bore it with a hidden, fanged grimace. Crimson light washed over the silver wall, splashing and splattering its burning bile with malice.

A collision of wills.

And she endured.

<"Alpha-Squad, accounted for!">

<"Bravo-Squad, all here!">

Their voices ringing in her ears pressed the held breath from her and she nodded, dragging her plated boots out of the craters they had been slammed into. <"We go now, bring them to heel!"> Saaveina rallied them together, dropping her barrier and surging forward with a bounding, confident stride. ​

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
STARRING | WARLORDS/MOFFS | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Julius Haskler | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Halketh | Onansi of Thyrsus | Mithrad | Enlil

Times, as always, were changing constantly. Politics, values, economy, war, and other factors evolved with each passing day in response to the numerous events spanning across the Galaxy. The biggest of them was the sacking of Csilla and its utter destruction by the hands of perfidious Maw. The New Imperial's victory against the Sith Empire after countless campaigns was monumental; however, it couldn't compare to how a ragtag group of zealots and Darksiders acquired a weapon far greater than anyone in the Galaxy. Their technology was primeval, yet they were more dangerous than the Sith.

Despite their hard earned victory years after the Imperator's Declaration of Defiance, there was still work to be done. Important work that if ignored would compromise everything they had fought for.

Too many priorities to handle. The absorption of territory east of the Braxant Run that would give the Empire a foothold on the Hydian Way, the Parlemian Trade Route, and the Daragon Trail; the rampaging Bryn'adul that were nearly at their footsteps; and finally the terrifying capabilities of the Maw.

The Warlord of Jaemus was seated at his own personal desk, far away from the Imperial Assembly on Bastion though his vacant seat at the Assembly would produce his person as a blue hologram.

"My fellow colleagues," he spoke, the first one to open their mouth before the assembled Moffs and Warlords of the Empire, "I'd like to open the floor to one of the many collective concerns we have in the Empire. How is it possible a band of warmongering zealots and rogue followers of the Dark Side are able to produce a grand weapon before us or any other modern civilization in the Galaxy?"

Not them, the Alliance, or another faction to their caliber managed this achievement.

His question was rhetorical, not expecting a definite answer.

He continued before anyone could answer.

"With the war against the Sith at an end, only leaving hapless remnants to our indomitable military, I believe we should have a precedence in constructing our own weapon before any other matters with the exception of rooting out any Sith dissidents in our conquests."

 

[Xeykard]

Djonas Val | Aleksander Castellanos Saaveina Chelenne Akaris | Objective I
​

"HA! Your imperial might is nothing next to the power of the Dark Side!" Xeykard roared, just as his saber sprang to life. His reptilian lips curled into a snarl yet the only sound to come next was unhinged laughter. He had not a care in the world. Especially not a world about to come to a most gruesome end.

The enemy ahead was the most obvious, and thus the quickest to destroy. Without delay the Barabel leapt into the air, raising his weapon. His momentum and power came to bear as he swung down at the knight. In his fervor it seemed he had lost any grace or tact in his form, trading it for raw aggression and power. Yet even through that there was an intense focus to his vicious attacks; each strike was stronger than the last, and each sought to land a killing blow.

 

[Djonas Val]

Xeykard

The Gray Cloak continued his march up the steps without halting. The process was slow, but confidence rolled off of him in droves. To be afraid of such a creature was no longer possible for the Knight. Clenching tightly in his hand his hilt, the Sith attacked. And Val was ready for it.

The height difference between him and the Barabel prevented him from matching the Dark Sider in his preferred Form VII. Depressing the silver hilt to release its blade, the Gray Cloak shifted on his feet as the Sith was upon him. His movements were quick and accurate, held closely to the center mass of his body, both hands gripping tightly on the hilt to bring those overbearing strikes performed by the Sith and push them off to the sides, deflected.

Despite his cybernetics, he still retained his speed. Taking the chance to bring his blade back from his flank and angle it in to the midsection of the Sith Warrior in an effort to disembowel them.

 

[Onansi of Thyrsus]

IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Arjant Clevenger

In terms of galactic security for the eastern hemisphere of the Outer Rim and the Tingel Arm, the threat of the Sith had been reduced to irrelevancy. They all knew it, the celebrations and the parades signaled an end to the war effort. At least an end to the Sith Empires front. But beyond them were the Bryn'adul, a cause, where not so long before the Sith sought to attack Muuninlinst, border worlds had been being transformed into fortress worlds in anticipation of attack.

Onansi had been certain there wouldn't be a meeting, not for some time, but it seemed the Iron Sun was meant to shine brightly on more worlds.

The topic of discussion, as obnoxious as the Sith themselves.

"There is a cause for concern for certain... But, from target alone we know those deviants in the Unknown Regions are too weak to challenge a force as strong as our own... Superweapon or no. The Chiss were a target because they were weak. Which brings me to my own counter question; Why?

Why should effort be put into a superweapon when our military is that weapon? When there will be no true challenge that is comparable to this crumbling Sith Empire?"

 

[Urzonith]

G E N E R I S
OBJECTIVE I | THE END OF TIME
​

Each of the tibanna gas shells that he loaded into the SX-21 sent a rush of excitement shuddering through his volcanic frame. There was so much potential energy stored inside of each and everyone of those shells. The ability to tear asunder flesh and bone, chip away at cover, overpower the desperate last holds of a Sith Knight’s saber as he attempts to put up one last stand. None of that mattered anymore when the Empire they all had fought so hard to build was crumbling down around them. From the very moment that he had heard the rallying cry of Defiance, that call of True Imperialism, that was what drove him. For Urzonith was a simple man at his heart, and he desired simple things. Order, stability, safety for all sentient things.

Thank the stars he didn’t consider the Sith to be sentient things.

He brought the scatterblaster to his shoulder as he lumbered down the hallway, the other agents of the strike force raising their own blasters and keeping a clear sightline down the path. Occasionally, around a corner one of the last holdouts of Sith-Imperialism would appear, brandishing a war-weary weapon and cracked and mired armor, only to be brought down by an onslaught of blaster rounds. These were the mad-men, the cultists that were beyond the help of any educational center. It was better off they were left here, forgotten to time and history, to their families, than whatever dreams of despair and carnage they had planned.

He pumped the blaster before turning a corner, the pathway down lit up with a barrage of blaster rounds that sent him huddling on the edge of concrete as bolts snapped into the ground and walls next to him.

This mission was proving to be much louder than he was used to within his service of the ISB...

 

[Mithrad]

HIS MAJESTY'S SECRETARIATE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
RAVELIN | BASTION
IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY

Onansi of Thyrsus | Arjant Clevenger | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Julius Haskler |
| Willan Tal | Halketh | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Enlil
​

Mithrad rested his back against the rather lofty comfort of the assembly room's chair, straightening his posture and allowing his scarlet gaze to peruse all of the Warlords, Moffs and other illustrious figures present as they conversed. From a concourse of circumstances, he himself was physically present, unlike the Warlord of Jaemus, offering the room with his usual deadpan, impassible visage, the angular and quite chiss-like traits of the bureaucrat helping much in masking his emotions and thoughts.

​

Truth be told, the Imperial Secretariat didn't say or show any emotion at the Thyrsian's words, and for the simple reason that he agreed with the man; the Csillan cataclysm had proven a weakness in the form of unwillingness to adapt from his people, the Chiss.

Eventually leaning forwards, he tilted a firm, black brow, clearing his throat before placidly offering his own opinion.
"The honorable Warlord of Thyrsus is both right, and wrong. While I believe, as I've gotten the -quite unique- perspective of firsthand, direct exposition to the might of such a weapon, that it is quite an asset to have. I believe it's usefulness is not in seeking to replicate one for ourselves, but merely in learning as much as we can from it's creators. While we all agree the Mawites are be nothing but Sith barbarians and their fanatic throngs, the first enquiry of Lord Clevenger is pertinent. If we can figure out every step of the process that enabled the constructions of such weapons, we can ensure what happened to Csilla never happens again, and thus stifle some of our enemy's capacities by doing so."

Mithrad then turned his gaze towards Onansi of Thyrsus, offering a single nod.
"The Warlord of Thyrsus is indeed right, however, in that to engage in the full-scale construction of our own would bear two considerable, unnecessary challenges, the enormous costs in manpower and resources to ensure it's development and construction, as well as the no-less daunting danger that having such a contraption would be to our diplomatic position.

"His Imperial Majesty's galactic realm grows, afterall. Spending our resources on world-ruining devices would be... unwise, if we seek to appear more... reasonable then the old Sith regimes."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

1
THE_WOAD
BASTION
OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO

The Grand Imperial Assembly: Irveric Tavlar Onansi of Thyrsus
Willan Tal Caarlyle Rausgeber Halketh Enlil
Arjant Clevenger Mithrad Julius Haskler

'I swore I would behave myself an' keep from speaking out of turn, but lo an' behold - here I am, at it again.', the Lord-Commander of Blue-Heart Brigade drawled in as kindly a tone as his gruff ways would permit, hoping not to step on any toes like he had when last he spoke before the Moffs and Warlords of Grand Imperial Assembly. Though there was light jest to his opening remark, Lord Erskine knew better than to lean into the mirthful demeanour when referring to the Brotherhood of the Maw, so his slight smirk would vanish almost as soon as it was expressed, understanding that he had much and more to say on the matter before he could get back to pleasantries and listening to everyone else speak their minds on the issues at hand. Turning his attention to Onansi of Thyrsus, Arjant Clevenger then the newest speaker among them, Erskine bowed his head respectfully to all who had spoken before him and continued,'I only feel I'd be silly not to remind the right-honourable Assembly of what happened on Ilum in particular, no offence intended. But what we fought there wasn't too weak for us then, rest assured.'

The thousand-yard stare at nothing would become visible to all in attendance, clearly recalling the events of that struggle as the dead, along with the black-boxes' footage still burned deep lacerations into his soul; as all that death and destruction cruelly contrasted the profound joy he felt in his duel against the Mongrel, tapping into that mutual state of fighting flow as his subordinates fought, bled and died in their attempt to take the kyber-mining camp at the mountain's summit. Even in their attempt to retrieve every last body, black-box and useable part, a few of the recording devices had been taken from the vehicles by the Mawlerites before the salvage and retrieval efforts, one specifically belonging to the crew of Goliath One. The dreaded facts and figures would bare their ugly faces soon after, prompting Barran to give as much context as he had access to, remarking with candour,'We arrived on Ilum with over two-hundred Goliath repuslorlift tanks, an' rotated back to leave-patterns on Archais with fewer than fifty.... One more Blue-Heart victory like that, an' we'll be needing that cursed fifth iteration after all, eh?'

'Now, the Sith Empire, as supremely-violent as they were in battle, were clearly just doing their best to keep the New Order at bay. The Brotherhood of the Maw, however, are an entirely different animal to the one we once perceived them to be. However, with that being said, I would still err against cautionary, passive strategies with this sort all the same.'

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
STARRING | WARLORDS/MOFFS | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Julius Haskler | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Halketh | Onansi of Thyrsus | Mithrad | Enlil

He was pompous and arrogant as many Imperials in the higher echelons, and it dumbfounds him to have someone that didn’t share his ideology to be permitted a seat on the Assembly. He blamed the Palleonists for encouraging in accepting foreign cultures into their ranks and diversify the Empire. Of course, his thoughts were placed on the Warlord of Onansi. Irked him further that a Chiss, new to the Assembly, agreed with their line of thinking.

He couldn’t dislike the Thrysian for speaking so direct, but he disliked him for his mindset.

“Warlord Onansi, if I recall history correctly, wasn’t your people oppressed and enslaved by a culture governed by women? Yet your warriors have stronger genetics than your former oppressors,” words that would insult and challenge the Warlord.

“And the only reason why your kind were defeated was for the advanced technology the Echani had at their disposal. Numbers do not win battles, I’m sure we all know better as it was our Imperator that fought with fewer men and managed to lead us where we are today.”

“Technology is the equalizer in war as we know it today. I have complete trust in the abilities of our soldiers, but what is a destructive power such as what occurred on a Csilla compared to our arsenal? No matter the defensive measures on Csilla by the combined forces of ours and others, the Maw were able to accomplish what they set out to do as General Barran saw. I would not want to witness that potential on our worlds ill equipped.”

“I’m surprised by the responses to this topic,” his gaze on Mithrand with disappointment.

 

[Onansi of Thyrsus]

IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Arjant Clevenger, DECEASED Erskine Barran , Mithrad

The Warlord of Thyrsus lazily leaned back into one side of his chair, an arm thrown up across its back as he lounged. The first of the Assembly to challenge his words, the newly arrived Chiss. He suppressed the amusement that would've otherwise overtaken his features, as his head slowly rotated about to set his dark eyes on the blue skinned alien.

They were in agreement, more or less, he surmised. Where Onansi thought it was worthless to pursue such an endeavour, the Chiss sought to understand the creation. A way of thinking that would be plausible should the weapon be in their possession, and yet, per the discussion they were having, the fact was that it was not.

Still, he remained silent as the Galidraani soldier, Barran spoke. Aside from these meetings, their soldiers had fought in similar theatres. Bastion, Helgard. The man was undoubtedly a soldier, a thing that he could not claim for the Chiss that spoke before him. The Galidraani had his respect, and pushing the ineptitude of the Maw would force him to insult the Exiles' combat ability. Though, some part of him was itching to incite conflict. The bandying of words in the Assembly was always so pointless.

And then Arjant spoke.

His initial words, fell flat on his ears. It was only moments after did it occur to him that it was meant to be an insult of some kind. A sentiment that he didn't share as a warrior.

There was a time when he hated the Echani on appearance alone. But his ascension to Supreme Sun Guardian of the Sun Guards and his placement as the sole ruler of Thyrsus had seen his knowledge increase ten-fold. Military tactics, strategies, the events of Sun Guards from centuries in the past, even a millennia past were now in reach. He had learned. Arjant would too.

"My people share a similar genetic pool with the Echani of Eshan, Clevenger." His lips parting into an animalistic, almost predatory smile as he stared holes into the mans holoprojection.

"You speak of my peoples history, as if to shame my ancestors - when it was the white-skins of Eshan that taught them how to fight. You parade archaic notions of genetic superiority, and the advantage one sex has over the other, concepts that died on Thyrsus thousands of years before either of us were born. You speak of technology being the sole reason why my people were enslaved. That is the mind of a man that has never seen battle. The true deciding factor is experience. Where the Echani had developed to be a united race, the Thyrsians remained tribal. Where my ancestors fought amongst each other, the Echani colonized half a dozen worlds in surrounding systems. Yes, technology played a part in the beginning, but it was the experience that kept my people enslaved." His gaze tightened on the hologram.

"Nigh ten years ago, when the Golden Company, led by Khonsu Amon descended from the stars, veterans of the First Order and Galactic Alliance's conflict, they slaughtered the Echani on Thyrsus. Because they had grown lax, neglectful. Out of touch with the rest of the galaxy around them." At this point, his gaze shifted to landing on Mithrad. The words he spoke were not a dissimilar way leading to Csilla's own demise. "The experience of the fight was their victory. Not too far off from this Order's own founding. Sith and Imperials bound together with a shared knowledge of the innerworkings of the Sith Empire's way of thinking.

Afforded to them by Experience."

"I have not seen you on any battlefield, have not heard of your exploits. Not on Bastion as the Galidraani Volunteers and Golden Company held the line against the onslaught of Sith soldiers. Not on Helgard, where Demon, Gladius, and Golden Companies toppled mountains to bury the cities of the Sith. Not on Zi- " He stopped, shaking his head. "You are no Warlord. You are merely a Planetary Governor with dreams of earning the respect of this Assembly. Where is Enlil? Rausgeber, Dooku? Warriors, soldiers that have been tempered by the field. Who is this man that hides in the comfort of his own office, too afraid to cast insults in the flesh?"

 

[Raijan Sol]

BYOO
Varian Dyre

The black clad body collapsed to the ground with the jab of the saber pike. In the barely visible features of the alien Mon Calamari, Raijan could see the contorted and twisted pain before the plasmatic beam was pulled back and corpse toppled onto the ground. The gorunds were littered with bodies of both Sith-Imperial Legionnaires and Sith alike.

They had travelled here straight from Dantooine. Less than a day had passed before he was tasked with a new mission. The secret of his Master he kept to himself, but he had revealed his true lineage to the First Order. An Imperial nation that he had found collapsed years after he had gone into cryosleep. His vessel he assumed, drifted off course, more or less left untouched on account of the Empire's alliance with the Sith Empire. And likely on account of his Master having been a Pillar of their Sith Order.

"Your Order has arrived, Avenger," Raijan said as he deactivated the pike. They themselves had been there first, before the ritual to unleash the black hole had brought it to fruition. "Looks like nothing's changed. There must be another group nearby."

 

[Cromwell]

BYOO | Raijan Sol​

Varian looked up to see the all too familiar triangles materializing in low orbit and encircling the black hole tearing the planet apart. While the New Imperials had sent operatives to tackle the rituals fueling this apocalyptic weapon, the Navy opted to figure it out through pure scientific means.

"They'll be trying to generate enough fission energy to close down the singularity." the spectre commented, his helmet's white oculi scanning the skies above. "But they won't be able to. Not in time, at least. Scrambling such a massive fleet in such a small span of time is not possible." he averted his gaze back to the corpses littering the ground. Raijan Sol had spared none to Varian's chagrin. Their knowledge could've come useful. If not for closing the black hole then for future operations against the Sith remnant. On the condition they survived the day, that is.

"These were just another decoy." Avenger remarked, standing up from his crouched position over the corpse of a Mon Calamari Sith. "Another illusion masking their real levels in the Force." the Force scanner was all but useless, whatever magic the Sith were employing threw the midi-chlorian radar in disarray. From what they had learned, the main ritual creating the singularity above was fueled by three sacrificial rituals; the issue was - there were at least a dozen rituals surrounding the main one. Most, like this one, were decoys.

A pull, like a hook, gently tugged him upward and various small objects - daggers, pebbles, boots - took to the skies tentatively but certainly.

"We're running out of time. Our next target's bound to be over that ridge." Varian stated hoarsely as he climbed on the speeder bike. "Let's go."

 

[Xeykard]

Djonas Val
​

Despite the ferocity of his strikes, no weariness crept into his muscles even with his continued onslaught. Not for a moment was there a thought of pause. He was a roaring wave battering a man made of metal. Try as he might, the Imperial Knight would not end the fight so easily -- Xeykard's lightclub met the Knight's blade, parrying it away.

The power he had, the wave of darkness; why did these imperials resist? They were nothing next to him and the power of the Sith. Xeykard's hatred overflowed. Discipline and training were the core tenets of these warriors yet for Xeykard it had only gotten him so far. He had yet to manifest a true symbol of the Sith's power. Now was the time.

The Inquisitor stepped back. The pain in his left hand flared, just as power began to pour from him; he pulled on it, made it his, pushed it into physical form. Lightning crackled across his fingertips and leapt from his hand, seeking to strike down the Knight.

"This is my power!" he roared, and yet his heart knew it was not.

 

[Raijan Sol]

BYOO
Varian Dyre

Eyeing the Force scanner in Varian's hand, Raijan chuckled, shaking his head.

Even in the midst of the end of the planet's existence, there was mirth to be had. Raijan had more faith in his own abilities to sense the focal points of the Force over a handheld device. The strongest of Force users could sense beings systems away, a portable version wasn't getting over that ridge that the Spectre indicated.

Planting a foot down on the ground, he lurched slightly before catching his balance as his hands landed on the bike handles. "Wha-?" The Graush Colonel said, staring down at the blood slicked ground. "Is that...?" Pinching the object with his thumb and index finger, he raised the dark, mouldy pizza up to his face, high enough for Varian to see. "What do you think thi-?" Again, confusion filled his voice as it fell apart before his very eyes. Had the Spectre even seen it? "Forget it," he says, swinging his leg up over the speeder bike.

Palms clenching around the handles, the repulsors kicked on, lurching forwards as he leaned in, practically hunched over the bars to present as little surface area as possible. The faster they went, the quicker they'd get out of this hellhole after all.

 

[Djonas Val]

Xeykard

Blades clashed together, the Gray Cloak was put on the back foot. It was natural versus a larger opponent. The ritual, the Sith, he could hear it through the Force, feel it. They enhanced their power, an effort he didn't bother to fight through, instead letting the sensations of darkness wash over him as he went through the motions.

The doubt filled his mind, threatening to press to the front from the rear, but he had faced worse. In the heart of Vjun Castle. For all intents and purposes he had been ready to kill himself for the Order then. Today was no different.

His blade was knocked off course, near unbalanced as he was forced to the side. The build up was near instantaneous for the Barabel - weren't they near extinct - lightning burst forth from the aliens palm. Through the use of the Force, time was slowed, he could perceive things quicker than normal. The Gray Cloak didn't smell it yet, but when he registered the crackling blue-white sparks lancing out at him, he thought he could smell the ozone burning.

Resolute in the face of imminent danger, his lightsaber snapped in front of him. Cybernetic hand tightening around the saber hilt as it leapt up to catch the sporadic streams of Dark Side energy. From power alone it sought to shove him away, to carry him off strength alone. But with his own application of the Force, he caught himself, pressing forwards as lightning licked past the blade, lashing out at the inorganic matter that was bonded to his flesh. The sound of the metals whirring slowed, the lightning sought to put half his body out of commission.

The Sith would have to fight to win, as both middle and index fingers of his organic hand raised from the hilt, the Force caught on a barely perceptible shield of the Force before the savage dark sided tendrils were reflected back, forking towards their very source as Djonas took a determined step forwards.

"You're not enough."

Behind him, his cloak snapped, from sheer force of the dark side, coupled with the smallest of objects rising up into the air to be pulled to the sky and the blackhole in the system.