Invasion Darkness Rises; the Battle of Kintan - TSE Invasion of SJO Kintan

[Lanik Dawnstar]

Location: New Kalandra
Allies: Wyatt Morga
Enemies: Darth Voyance | Irveric Tavlar [RP Coordinated]
Equipment: Jedi Armor | Aspis Shield | Lightsaber
Ambiance

Standing in the council room, simply staring into nothingness Lanik peered through the veil that was the force. He did not look upon the war on the physical plane, no he viewed beyond it. The fabric of the force a weave that he peered through gaining greater insight on the true extent of the damage wreaked upon the city. Each artillery shell exploded in a blossom of malevolence as lives were erased.

Lanik had left the Silver’s originally just for this reason, before he could never truly stomach war. Leading soldiers on a battlefield, dolling out death to foes. It weighed heavy on the padawan’s heart, as he thought it would others but some seemed so calloused to battle. Some Jedi even seemed to enjoy and thrive in it. The thought twisted the Jedi’s stomach. Lanik Dawnstar, the Jedi that hated to fight but was a natural-born warrior. The Jedi that once turned his back on the light only to return with a faith greater than ever before. The Prodigal son.

“War never changes.” The words barely audible over a detonation not too far in the distance. The words couldn’t have been truer in recent years. War had seemed to envelop the galaxy in one way or another over the past couple decades. The participants may change, yet there were still lives lost in each one. Atrocities committed.

Blinking, Lanik’s presence returned to the physical upon feeling the presence of Master Morga enter the room. Tears fell unbidden from his eyes and retreated down his cheeks. Brushing them away the Jedi knew what must be done, when volunteers were called he was one of the first to step forward. There was no question, no hesitation, no fear. A Jedi must do their duty, no?

What gear the Jedi had to collect was on his very being, the armor he wore, the lightsaber upon his hip, and the shield upon his left forearm. Glancing around the room at the others who had volunteered Lanik realized that some were risking it all in what could be their final moments. People that could be leaving behind their children or wives to a life of struggle all in the hopes of prolonging them. No one should’ve been forced to suffer such a hardship yet the galaxy was rife with them.

With the goodbyes and gear being distributed it seemed as if the other volunteers would soon be ready. Unable to watch any more of the heart-wrenching scene Lanik moved out to the balcony where Wyatt sat, looking down to the meditating Master. Without him, Lanik probably would’ve never come to aid the Silver’s. Despite having forgiven them for the atrocities of Mirial he just couldn’t find his way back to their space. He had an aversion to it. Yet it was Master Morga that had brought the Jedi together once more or was at least attempting to.

Staring over the balconies edge and into the distance, peering through the clouds of smoke that billowed into the air Lanik could see the Sith war machine. He saw the death they rained, saw their numbers moving forward. Whether Master Morga marched them to death or to victory, all that mattered was that they would continue on. “The other’s are prepared Master Morga."

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

Position: Northern Siege Lines ; Sith Artillery Batteries
Objective: New Kalandra - The Siege
Allies: Darth Voyance
Enemies: Wyatt Morga ; Lanik Dawnstar [Coordinated]
------------------------------------------------------------
The invasive volleys from the 'Powerhammer' guns and repulsor-tank mounted driver cannons continued steadily as Voyance conducted the ritualistic sith posturing unto Tavlar. The typical behavior she and the rest of them displayed flatly in the face of their force inhibited inferiors. Always speaking with a nigh infuriating cadence and tone to their voice. Regardless, a great deal of Tavlar's job was less to advise and more to absorb it all the same.

"Of that you are correct, My Lady. However I'd strictly advise against an offensive until we have destroyed what we are able to of their defensive positions. Otherwise we put ourselves in a killing field. Their emplacements come first..." Tavlar objected with venom piercing the ever rigid layer of stoicness over his voice. He might've been a spare second from summary execution had the garrison not returned fire, sending heavy ordinance into the trenches.

The explosions threatened to shatter his eardrums were it not for the aural dampeners built into his helmet, Tavlar grinding his teeth as he surveyed the damage before flicking the comms to communicate with the ordinance, many of them continuing to pile their mass of destruction with rockets and accelerated shells,a great many of them bursting in the air just above their landing point to provide a raining shower of shrapnel, indiscriminately chewing through any soft body unfortunate enough to be below the payload.

Through foresight Tavlar anticipated a contested air space and packed his tank squadrons with an anti-air variant accompanying each, the ground attack craft which sought to harass the lines forced to evac before they dropped their payloads or forcing out an inaccurate drop as tracking blaster rounds clogged the skies above.

"Shields on the guns. Now." Tavlar ordered, his voice ever tempered with cold stoicism and soon enough the surrounding support infantry planted the infantry shields into the dirt, the domes enclosing the best they could to shield the hull of the vehicles as the long barrels of the artillery cannons were still able to inche free from the shielding, continuing their fire missions with little disruption.

This time when the Sith barked her orders at him Tavlar had no words to object, gritting his teeth beneath his helmet before nodding once, turning to one of his inferior officers, a Colonel charged with manning the artillery batteries. Offering a downward wave of his arm was all the signal he needed as he Tavlar crawled out of the trench, walking upright even as harsh blasts rattled the earth around them. Ever rigidly displaying a 'contempt for danger' as he flicked his comms to communicate with his assault group.

"Spread out in wedge formations, starting now, on 'Powerhammer' Sigma's third round we're crossing the gap. Move out." Tavlar muttered, ending the order with a word of command as he left the trench, veering down the soft incline into the dug in position of his armor group, the violent rumbling of the raw power the vehicles dispensed from their repulsor lifts as they readied for combat all but deafening as he sought out his command vehicle. A Claymore II in its standard pattern, only differentiated from the rest by a fingers spread white hand painted on the aft of the hull and the several dozen white kill rings encircling the main cannon. All but indiscernible from the rest of the vehicles as he sought to hide amongst the rest of his armor, knowing well if the command vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb he'd be a pile of burnt flesh within jagged metal soon enough.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Location: New Kalandra - In the trenches.
Allies: Lanik Dawnstar
Enemies: Darth Voyance │ Irveric Tavlar

“The other are prepared, Master Morga.”​

​

Lanik’s voice came clear through the ashla, breaking him from his trance. Another hundreds deaths he had compartmentalized in his soul, another few minutes of pain he saved the civilians from experiencing; but their sorrow weighed heavy on Wyatt. He couldn’t help but frown as he stood, feeling that sadness churn inside him like a sickness.​

​

“Then it seems we should hurry.”, he offered with a glance back to Lanik, “Come, gather around.”​

​

With his hands palm up, Wyatt closed his eyes and began to focus. Those around, armored to the teeth, looked to him - to the floor, and other small religious symbols on their person. They understood what this meant - and not a man among them expected to live, nor even be buried with their families graces. Most mourned, but those soldiers left didn’t have such a chance - stoic as they were, their bravery shone bright in the hot sun that hung overhead.​

​

For Wyatt, the force churned and sputtered in his grasp - invoking a technique he had learned nearly fifty years prior. Aing-Tii were odd things, but their teachings had spread to the Jedi Order after Luke’s own experiences, and Wyatt learned from those descendents. His hands closed slow, and as he exhaled - The World shifted.​

​

Wyatt inhaled, and they were there.​

​

The trenches were alive with Sith activity, yet all eyes were focused on the city. Even those that saw this motley crew form in their midst took a moment to realize what it meant - but there would be no question to it as Morga’s eyes opened, and the Force breathed life into his lightsaber. A blue snap, hot and whirring with motion, offered a solemn salute to those about to fall -​

​

And then the fighting began.​

​

His men shot first, landing a set of shots against commanders and soldiers alike - and Wyatt himself rushed forward through the Force. All he could hear was the rush of air over his ears, but he imagined the man he cut down felt nothing as his head was separated from him. That calmness to death was not his norm, but he had to bury it for the moment. He had to find his peace, lest a million die before the day was done.​

​

Wyatt’s blade kicked behind his head and deflected two blaster bolts to their origination point, but his eyes were focused on the massive shielded artillery machines that reigned hellfire on the city he swore to protect. He knew it was irrational, but despite their make up of metal and steel - he couldn’t help but visualize their harshness in flesh and blood, sith in themselves personified on a machine.​

​

“Get to the Artillery!”, he cried out as more shots rang at him and his men.​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Location: Fortress Kh'aris
Objective: Prepare
Allied Tags: Jerek Morrows

The Fortress was meant to be the safest place in the city. Its high walls and heavy defenses guarded the planets shield generator. As long as it remained standing, the planet was safe from the worst of attacks.

Ironically, that also meant it would be the heaviest hit. The Masters had warned her of this theory, but Kyra chose to stand here anyway. Many of her classmates stood with Yuroic in the streets, helping evacuate citizens from their homes. Kyra needed to do more than that.

She had waited impatiently for the threat to pull in. Every jedi around them felt approach of the sith ripple through the force. It wound her up. Sent her squirming-- forced her into a long pace up and down the halls. There was no peace within this padawan. She tried though.

Her steps slowly brought her closer to a jedi meditating on a spot on the ground. Although he did not know it, his own attempts to keep himself grounded resonated strongly with the overly-sensitive empath of a girl. Her heart rate had just leveled out when the feeling hit her.

He opened his eyes. She looked up.

"They're here," she whispered, her heart rate spiking once more. Her hand flickered to the pommel of her saber, her eyes moving wildly over the ceiling before settling back on Jerek. She swallowed hard, fighting back words.

"Master?" She whispered, the crack in her voice imploring him for reassurance.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

Equipment: Sk-UL Mk3 Armor (Custom Appearance) || Wither (Sith Sword) || Shroudsaber || Sith Lightsabers || KC-77N Blaster Pistol
Allies: Darth Carnifex || Viktor Goetz || Darth Voyance || Joycelyn Zambrano || Irveric Tavlar || Taeli Raaf || Fiolette Raaf || BobertEZ || Ingrid L'lerim
Enemies: WelshPsych || Reggie Faayare || Aaran Tafo || Cenric Marus || Valkren Calderon || Wyatt Morga
Interacting With: Ingrid L'lerim || OPEN
Objective: Artillery Support
​

Spoiler: 103rd Ultranaut Regiment

- Infantry:

• 5000x Ultranauts​
• 680x Combat Engineers​
• 680x Ghost Troopers​
• 50x Pyronauts​
• 10x Psi Corps Operatives​
• 10x Wolfguards​

- Vehicles:

• 100x Sarissa-pattern Main Battle Tanks
• 100x Xiphos-pattern Infantry Fighting Vehicles
• 150x Armadillo Armored Personnel Carriers
• 50x Foxhound Light Attack Vehicles
• 40x KV-109 Jet Bikes
• 40x Centipede Siege Walkers
• 20x Spider Strike Walkers

- Logistics:

• 200x Warthog Protected Mobility Vehicles
• 40x Titan-pattern Armored Heavy Transports
• 60x Lykos-pattern Armored Utility Vehicles

- Artillery:

• 100x Gorgon-pattern Towed Howitzers
• 100x Drakon-pattern Self-Propelled Howitzers
• 20x Crimson Fire MLRS
• 80x Scorpion MLRS
• 100x Sfyra-pattern Towed Anti-Tank Guns
• 100x KC-MT9 Gauss Field Mortars

- Anti-Air Defenses:

• 80x Hydra-pattern Surface-To-Orbit Missile Launchers
• 120x Viper Self-propelled Air Defense Systems

- Additional Heavy/Crew-served Armament (Deployable with specialized troops):

• KC-249 General Purpose Repeating Blasters
• KC-M5 Heavy Machineguns
• KC-M2 Portable Missile Launchers
• KC-M74S Designated Marksman Rifles
• KC-T80 40mm Grenade Launchers

- Air Support:

• 4x I-3A Lance Fighter Squadrons
• 1x T-77 Stealth Interceptor Squadron
• 3x I-4V Dive Bomber Squadrons
• 10x Sigma-class Heavy Assault Dropships
• 10x Styx-class Assault Dropship Squadrons

- Heavy Siege Units:

• 1x Eviscerator ATDM
• 1x TX-1 War Droid

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Deploying invasion force​

• Deploying on Kintan outskirts​

The Eternal Empire had long been thirsting for Silver Jedi blood. Ever since a decade and a half ago, when the meddling of the Silver Jedi had led to the collapse of the Ancient Eye and the subsequent genocide inflicted upon its people by the lightside fundamentalists which inhabited the Nibelungen system, those who survived, those who eventually went on to form the Eternal Empire, had been vying for revenge, vying to return the favor and repay the Silver Jedi for the atrocity that had been inflicted upon them by inflicting an equally horrible atrocity upon the Order's worlds in return. That day, had come.

Amongst the vast armada of the Sith Empire, lay ships bearing a different IFF transponder code, one which identified them as hailing from the far north of the galaxy, from the Unknown Regions, their names transmitted in the blocky letters that were the official alphabet of the Eternal Empire's military dictatorship. As soon as the Sith ships breached the shields, the Imperial vessels sprung into action, deploying squadrons of dropships and fighters in great numbers, catapulting an entire regiment of troops into the heart of the action.

Descending from orbit, the dropships angled their noses up ninety degrees, slamming into the atmosphere perpendicularly to cause as much friction with the air as possible, air which lit up and caught fire, drawing streaks of red across the sky. It was an immensely difficult, high-G maneuver called a combat drop, one designed to allow the Empire's ships to decelerate from the hypersonic velocities required to stay in orbit, to subsonic speeds in a very short amount of time, allowing the Empire's forces to descend almost vertically upon their designated landing area. Imperial pilots carried out such maneuvers with regularity, displaying extraordinary skill as they maintained formation and a stable trajectory, despite the intense punishment their ships were subjected to, punishment the Imperial vessels were designed to withstand with ease in the hands of well-trained pilots.

There were a few brief moments of static, communications interrupted by the ionized plasma surrounding the contingent of vessels, rattling and shaking violently as they pierced through the atmosphere like an angry hail of arrows about to drown the Silver Jedi city in a sea of fire and then, finally, as they slowed down enough, they were through the deceleration phase, allowing communications to resume.

Aboard one of the larger Sigma-class dropships, one man stood out amongst the multitude of soldiers, dressed in a white uniform and armor, helmet held under one arm. On his belt hung four lightsabers and a horrifying longsword and a blaster pistol was holstered in special straps on his tactical vest. His scarred, war-weathered face was framed by a mane of hair the color of silver and his slitted, feline eyes glowed an angry gold, burning with a terrible intensity that strengthened the resolve of the disciplined, battle-hardened men around him. The fingers on his hands ended in sharp, deadly talons.

Ordering all frequencies to be opened, Darth Tacitus, Eternal Emperor of Kalidan, the Lord of Silence, Reaper of Copero and Ghost of Eshan addressed every living soul within the Kintan system, allied and enemy alike, in Basic, rather than the High Nelvaanian language of his nation, so that all may understand his words. A psychological warfare tactic he had used before, on Copero and on many other battlefields, one meant to strengthen the morale of his troops and demoralize the enemy.

"The Jedi style themselves the guardians of peace," he spoke, pausing for dramatic effect, his eyes sweeping across his troops. "Yet, what has peace ever brought, but tragedy? Once, we wanted peace, as well. Like fools, we believed that peace would bring our people salvation," the Sith Lord said. "And yet, as the Hand of Light and their Silver Jedi supporters have taught us, peace is a lie."

"The only thing peace brings, is stagnation, followed by complacency, corruption, selfish, short-sighted hedonism and the decadence and downfall of nations. We learned that lesson the hard way, learned it by paying with the blood of millions of our own. But these Jedi, these vile, depraved hypocrites, would have us forget, would have the entire galaxy succumb to their wretched peace, all in the name of their foolish belief in a utopian harmony that can not and will never exist."

The soldiers responded by stomping on the cold, metal floor of the ship, a gesture repeated on every Imperial vessel, echoed by the comms until it became a terrible gong. Stomp.

"The only thing peace brings, is tragedy, just like it did before, during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. It creates a galaxy that is complacent, weak and cowardly, filled with people and governments incapable of taking responsibility over their own place in society, incapable of setting aside their short-sighted desires for more pleasure, more comfort, more wealth for even a moment."

Stomp.

"Those who choose to stand for the cowardly cause of peace, stand against the intrinsic order of the universe, an order defined by natural selection, ever since the inception of life. Conflict has always been the foundation of all existence, the driving force of evolution, the very thing that made it possible for intelligent species to exist. Yet the Jedi, in their foolish pursuit to enforce peace and protect the weak and unworthy, would have that natural cycle halted and all living things condemned to death. And so, the Jedi are the enemies of life."

Stomp.

"The truth that the Jedi do not want to admit, that they try so hard to cover up with their damnable lies and schemes, is that nothing in this universe can exist without war. Where there is war, civilization prospers and grows. The weak are swept away, allowing those stronger and better to grow, continuing the cycle of natural selection that has shaped all life from its inception. Where peace and democracy reign, civilization rots away, the strong chained to the hungry, lazy weak, smothered by the corrupt and the unnatural until society collapses into individualistic anarchy and chaos!"

Stomp.

"Today, we shall unleash a terrible punishment upon the Jedi, a punishment befitting of their crimes against us, against the galaxy, against life itself. Today, we bring war to this world and we shall cleanse it of the vile practitioners of peace, without mercy, without hesitation, without restraint!" the Sith Lord spoke, his tone harsh, dark, promising violence and death.

"To you, those swearing allegiance to the Jedi, those who seek to inflict the great lie of peace upon the galaxy, I have only this to say. Expect no mercy, or quarter, for you shall not be given any. We shall take no prisoners, today, whether civilian or military. We shall not rest until the vile, wretched stain upon the galaxy that is your worthless existence, is completely erased. You shall find no mercy, here, no salvation or hope, only torture and death, for the punishment befitting your crimes, is genocide," Tacitus declared. "And in your wake, above your mangled, lifeless corpses, imperialism shall rise and the natural order will be restored. Death to the Jedi!"

Stomp.

"Death to peace!"

Stomp, one final time, then the transmission cut off as the dropships came to a halt upon the ground, ramps opening, spewing forth a torrent of men and vehicles, deploying upon what would soon be a battlefield, bringing along the terrible artillery for which the Imperial soldiers were known.

The Eternal Empire had come to Kintan. It had come thirsting for Jedi blood. And soon, its thirst would be quenched.

Edits: Fixed broken spoiler tag​

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Location: Kintan Plains, approximately 100 kilometers west of Fortress Kh'aris > Heading via LRAD-OR to New Kalandra
Objective: Priority Kill Mission (target TBD)
Callsign: Icarus-1-1
Personal Assets: Icarus Platoon, first squad

Spoiler: Icarus Squad Loadout

12 x Ranger Special Forces

• 12 x Accelerated Infantry Power Suits
  • Including 12 x OS-111 "Firestorm" Heavy Blaster Cannon
  • OS-112 "Valkyrie" Jump Jet
  • OS-101 Retractable Vibrosword
  • OS-108 Energy Shield
  • Enhanced speed and strength (via power-assisted internal frame)
• 12 x OS-115 "Bonesplitter" Heavy Assault Rifle
• 24 x OS-107 "Hermes" Sensor Drones

Allies: SJO
Enemies: Sith
Personal Kit:

Spoiler

Armor: Accelerated Infantry Power Suit
Primary Weapon: OS-115 "Bonesplitter" Heavy Assault Rifle (chest rig)
Secondary Weapons:

• OS-111 "Firestorm" Heavy Blaster Cannon (A.I.P.S.)
• OS-101 Retractable Vibrosword (A.I.P.S.)
• Krath Itak Sword (back scabbard) Note to Force Users/Force Sensitives - this blade emanates a strong Dark Side aura
• 8 x frag grenades (chest rig)

Misc Gear:

• OS-112 "Valkyrie" Jump Jet System (A.I.P.S.)
• OS-108 Energy Shield (A.I.P.S.)
• 2 x OS-107 "Hermes" Sensor Drones (chest rig)

Located on the plains of Kintan, several dozen kilometers west of Fortress Kh'aris a group of six Gweld-class CAV's sat arrayed in a loose circle. Outside of them stood Beltran Rarr and twelve of his men, all of whom were wearing the new Accelerated Infantry Power Suit's-called A.I.P.S. for short. A brand new, state-of-the-art combat suit/weapons platform, the men and women of Icarus Platoon had been detailed to take the new armor on their shakedown trials.

Each of the twelve Rangers carried an, also brand-new, OS-115 "Bonesplitter" Heavy Assault Rifle. It was a large weapon, designed to be used by soldiers wearing power-assisted armored suits like the A.I.P.S. It carried a very long chainsaw attachment, which jutted out from underneath the weapon's barrel-turning it into a terrifyingly deadly close combat weapon as well. When coupled with the OS-111 "Firestorm" Heavy Blaster Cannon emplacements located on each shoulder of the A.I.P.S units, it meant that each Ranger could bring about a devastating amount of fire a target.

Arrayed around the twelve operators, thirteen if you included Beltran, were approximately thirty-eight others. These beings, wore basic flak vests, fatigues and open-faced helmet. A few of them carried OS-109 "Fate" Assault Rifles, but most only carried only a drop-holster with a heavy blaster pistol on their hips.

They were the support personnel, which made up the remainder of the platoon. While all had taken and passed the Ranger Basic Qualification course, these men and women were primarily engineers. They had been hand-picked from the best Antarian Ranger engineer platoons, and from some of the best scientific minds in the private sector. Their jobs were not to fight, per se, but to maintain the experimental equipment that Icarus was primarily tasked with testing.

Each of them could handle their weapons, if need be, but they were nothing compared to the top-level operators that made up Icarus' first squad.

This morning, all of them had been putting the A.I.P.S. and Bonesplitter rifles through their paces, and so far the tests had been a resounding success. The power-assisted internal frames, on which the large suits of armor were built, gave each operator increased strength and speed along with the overwhelming firepower. The scaled-up versions of the OS-112 "Valkyrie" Jump Jet systems that each suit contained, also meant that the operators could jump over 20 meters into the air, and close distances on their targets with a rapidity normally only seen in vehicles.

Finally being able to test them outside of the laboratory setting was thrilling to the newly minted Lieutenant Rarr and he was more than pleased with how things were going.

"Alright," He said, the vox modulator of his helmet carrying his voice so that all could hear. "Next we're going to attempt to scale down the cliff wall approximately 300 meters south of us. You've all practiced the maneuvers in controlled exercises back on Kashyyyk, but now it's time to see how you fair in the field. First squad will come with me, I want to see how quickly we can cover the distance in the suits. The rest of you, I want mounted up in the CA-"

"Kh'aris actual for Icarus-1-1." An unfamiliar voice cut in on the coms, interrupting Beltran in mid sentence.

"Go for Icarus-1-1," He replied.

"Be advised, we have multiple Sith contacts on our board. It appears to be an invasion. Elements of the Sith army had deployed outside New Kalandra and the bulk of their forces appear to be marching on our position. Command has detailed your unit for a priority kill mission, details to follow. A LRAD-OR is inbound to your position. Board it with your kill squad and send the remaining personnel on the CAV's back to base."

"Orders acknowledged, Kh'aris actual. Icarus-1-1 out."

Turning his attention to his men, Beltran wasted no time relaying what he'd been told. Already he could see the LRAD approaching rapidly on the horizon. He ordered the support personnel to board the CAV's and by the time the LRAD was landing, the CAV's were peeling off and heading, in convoy formation, for Kh'aris. It took only a few seconds for the Lorrdian and his first squad to enter the LRAD, and a few moments later they were in the air heading toward New Kalandra.

 

[Lanik Dawnstar]

Location: New Kalandra
Allies: Wyatt Morga
Enemies: Darth Voyance | Irveric Tavlar [RP Coordinated]
Equipment: Jedi Armor | Aspis Shield | Lightsaber
Ambiance

“Then it seems we should hurry. Come, gather around.”

Lanik wished to reach a hand out to the seasoned Jedi, to tell him that it would be ok, but what could a padawan offer a Master? Hope? Faith? Advice? None of those things would probably even matter to Master Morga. Hand hovering in the air behind the other as they left Lanik simply held his tongue, there would be time after the battle if they made it out.

Solemnly following the senior Jedi, Lanik kept his back straight, his head up and exuded confidence. Whether it was a suicide mission or not mattered little, what mattered was still having hope that they would all come out to see another day. Appearances could make a difference.

The tension within the chamber was thick enough that Lanik could feel its weight. They all stood together waiting for Morga to transport them, and before they left Lanik offered the one mantra that a Jedi could. “May the force be with us all.”

In an instant, Lanik was snatched from the physical and just as quickly jutted back into it. The time between the travel seemed non-existent but for his first time ever experiencing fold space Lanik felt a sense of vertigo. His stomach clenched, his eyes hazy as they adjusted to the bright light of Kintan’s primary.

The raucous retort of artillery firing nearly deafened the Jedi as he attempted to find his footing, the aspect of surprise being with them as the Sith troopers and officers never expected them to appear. Lanik felt their shock through the force, and then quickly following it was their deaths as blaster bolts and slugthrower rounds tore through their forms. While they may have served the Sith, Lanik still grieved for them as their bodies fell lifelessly to the muddy ground, the brown sediment coating and staining their armor.

There was no time to mourn, with a flick of his wrist and a thought Lanik’s aquamarine blade came to life. It’s song one not of death but of defense. Every step forward was a blaster bolt deflected, not a movement was wasted, there were no exaggerations in his movements as Lanik became a shield. His saber traced snakes in the air as they protected the soldiers from harm. It didn’t matter the odds Lanik would attempt to get as many out as he could. Face settled into a grim determination he marched forward behind Morga towards the artillery emplacements.

“With Master Morga! Push forward!” The war call went out, Lanik’s own pace increasing as he entered the defensive velocities of Soresu. With every soldier that they lost Lanik winced, he could do nothing but watch as a soldier strayed too far forward, outside the range even the Jedi could reach. A hail of blaster bolts tore through their flesh, smoking holes peppered across their body, a husk of the man falling to the ground. It stole his breath, it shook Lanik’s being and forced him to redouble his efforts.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

Location: Northern Siege Lines
Objective: Negotiate with any survivors – seeking non-combat writing partner
Allies: Darth Voyance | Irveric Tavlar
Enemies: SJO
Post: 1


“That’s the signal sir, we’re going in.”

Indeed we are…

The Iota-class shuttle, on loan from the Sith Armada to the Sith Treasury, broke from its pair of Strike Fighter escorts and plunged into the atmosphere of Kintan, angling toward the area north of New Kalandra where the Sith Legion had established their siege lines. From the outside the shuttle was identical to the hundred others that were participating in today’s hostiles. But as with most things, it was what was on the inside that mattered.

Major Treasurer-General Aerarii Tithe squirmed in his seat, trying unsuccessfully to make himself comfortable. The task was not made easy, whether it was his sweat-lined Betaplast half-helmet and combat cuirass worn over his Sith-Imperial combat uniform or by the fact that the shuttle pilot was taking violent evasive manoeuvres to avoid enemy anti-air artillery. Above all, it was likely that he was heading into an active war zone, rather than away from it, that was causing the most discomfort.

When he had first heard that the Treasury would be sending an official along on the mission to Kintan, Aerarii had lobbied hard for one of his rivals to be sent. Unfortunately, Beltis Kishar, the Sith Grand Treasury, had other ideas. Did he suspect that Aerarii lusted for the Muun’s position?

With minimal warning, Aerarii had found himself shipped out with the invading forces. His orders - support the Emperor and the capture of Kintan in any way possible. If the locals could be brought off, much bloodshed could be sparred. The fate of the Jedi was already sealed by the Emperor’s call for death, but if Aerarii could convince, bribe or extort the local Nikto into accepting Sith rule, the war could be less costly for the Empire, leaving more credits in their bulging coffers.

There was also the chance for personal glory should he succeed, something Aerarii could never bring himself to pass up.

The shuttle landed far behind the artillery lines, which was still too close to the heat of battle for Aerarii. The embarked Legionnaires, on secondment to the Sith Treasury, began loading unmarked crates into the back of a Carnivore-class Heavy Repulsortank. Secured within those crates were not the crude weapons of the Sith Legion, but rather the tools of the Treasury - items, promises and potential that could be just as persuasive as an invading army.

While they finished their preparations, Aerarii contacted the commander of the nearby armoured force, Irveric Tavlar . “Ahh yes, General Tavlar, this is Treasurer-General Tithe.” While Aerarii’s title sounded impressive, it was for protocol only - he commander no forces save those assigned to protect the Treasury cargo he was escorting. “It’s a pity we couldn’t meet under better circumstances, though I see that your men are doing quite the number of the local…”

An enemy artillery shell landed far too close for his likings. Aerarii ducked for cover, and only after taking a moment to settle himself and a string of curses did he stand back up straight.

“Have you encountered any anti-Jedi resistance, or the local merchant guild masters? I have the means to bring them over to our side without shedding the blood of your men.”

Another artillery shell exploded nearby, and Aerarii dove for cover.

This was no place for a bureaucrat.

 

[Kiso]

​

Location: Planets Orbit
Objectives: Protect evacuation/civilian ships
Allies: SJO TBA
Opposition: Darth Athora Murao Viktor Goetz

Task Force Korekushon

Spoiler

Tatsuta: Chernobog-class artillery carrier
Ships are former Ancient Eye Vessels
Kuma: Adjudicator Class Star Destroyer
Nagato: Adjudicator Class Star Destroyer

Fubaki: Ardan II Class Flak Frigate
Hibiki: Ardan II Class Flak Frigate

So it began, yet another tussle with the Sith Empire was underway and yet again she found herself on the defense, going up against a seemingly larger fleet bearing down on them. Kiso could only pray that the ground forces kept the fight up long enough her focus would solely on the incoming Sith fleet who for the most part were still forming up for an attack. "Well that is new, I suppose their commander isn't as blood thirsty as usual".

Even if short any respite before battle allowed their plans to move forward, along with awaiting for the evacuation Kiso needed to hold out until reinforcements arrived. Each second made that reality greater, her internal computer calculating the odds of survival as the two sides waited to make an opening move. "Remember watch out for flaking maneuvers, we can't let them get around our formation, keep fighters close and screening the area around, nothing can get through... oh and keep an eye on the enemy planet breakers, if they show sighs of firing you have my permission to unleash the Tatsuta own heavy weapons upon them".

A flurry of acknowledgments from fighter wing commanders and the other ship captains filled her communicator as Kiso plugged her hand into one of the ships systems. Her HUD bringing up a overhead view of the battle field, marking her ships and the currently visible Sith formation along with the SJO known information about each class. "Let the games begin"

 

[BobertEZ]

Location: Kintan
Objective: Fortress Kh'aris
Allies: Darth Carnifex , Darth Voyance , Joycelyn Zambrano , Murao, Irveric Tavlar , Taeli Raaf , Fiolette Raaf, Darth Athora , Kainan Wolfe , Aerarii Tithe
Enemies: Lanik Dawnstar , Beltran Rarr , Kyra Perl , Wyatt Morga , Jerek Morrows , Ryv , Jessica Med-Beq , Valkren Calderon , Cenric Marus , Aaran Tafo , Reggie Faayare , WelshPsych , Kiso

"My lord?"

The momentary dulling of senses like this brought a venerable peace to the spirit of war that was Lorale, even if there was an underlying physical pain in his body. What happened when we impacted? The question was frequent in those seconds and purposeful, but came without answers as most questions do.

"My lord?"

His vision was dark, his hearing almost deafened, his body sore only in the muscles deep in his body. There was no smell, strangely enough, and no taste in the air that pressed down on him. His fingers twitched instinctively, briefly brushing against the harsh, cold metal of a ship that had intentionally crashed upon the field of the impending battle. It was as if he were in a cacoon of steel, a furious insect waiting to be birthed into the world from the womb of entrapment.

"My lord!"

His vision began clearing, his hearing returning to allow dull thumps and what could be discerned as footsteps just outside the cacoon enter his ears, and his body reacting more to the pain that came with the impact. His hands began roaming, discovering that he was entrapped completely, the soil of the wasteland surrounding him alongside the metal. Only then did he realize his lungs struggled for air and so he began to push and dig against the metal, pushing with his own might as well as the Force. Creaks and groans indicated some progress, but nothing of note came from his efforts. I am not dying like a rat in a tomb. I will not let my fate-

"My Lord!" "Brother!"

The cacoon was ripped open from the outside and from the womb rose the Wolf of Noxis, breathing heavy, head pounding, arms aching, legs stiff, but altogether intact. His armor was covered in the wasteland soil but was void of any apparent damage, as was his sword which was promptly handed to him by-

"Kascalion!" he exclaimed upon locking eyes with the feline form of his brother who had been accompanied by one of his personal Legionnaires, as well as the cadre of Pirekead of whom all but one had survived. "How in the hell did you get here?"

The Devil Lion sighed heavily and shoved the flat end of the Wolfblade against Lorale's breastplate, "I live aboard the ship, Lorale. I saw an opening in the shields when I discovered you had crash landed. But we have no time for talk. Take your sword and join me on the frontlines. There is much work to be done."

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

​

Location: Deployed
Allies: The Sith Empire
Equipment: Personal armor, CF6 Concussion Rifle, two vibroknives, engineering packs.
Tags: Joycelyn Zambrano Darth Carnifex Taeli Raaf

_______________________________________________________________________
​

"You've stalled. Report." The command was followed by the click of quick steps entering the transport's cockpit. The on-hand mechanic gave a stressed reply,

"We landed rough and now propulsion has crawled to a stop. Diagnostic will take at least 30 min--"

"Unacceptable. This rumbler was scheduled to be chewing dirt 5 minutes ago." Her interruption came with a shove as she took the mechanic's place at his terminal. The red holographic screen blipped multiple failures without a source. The subterranean transport had few flaws, boasting a design most appreciated to Cara. But the existence of autonomous calibration was a double-edged sword she usually did away with in her own work, and here it proved no help at a most crucial time.

Cybernetic hands clicked as they grasped the edges of the terminal and Cara breathed a meditative sigh. The layout of the Rumbler was splayed out before her mind, its layers of circuitry, armor plating, and propulsion system ready to be picked apart by a mental hand. She bypassed the schematic and communed directly with the onboard computer, following its branches of command chains down into the drive systems. And there it was.

"Automated inner turnbuckle has a broken sensor and loose tension roller, left tread. With me." She motioned for the mechanic to follow as she exited the cockpit and left the transport. The orange sands whipped passed on a sharp breeze as they jogged to the side of the Rumbler. Cara ordered the personnel at her side to prepare for a quick swap of the sensor. She readied herself in a martial pose and extended her hand, the servo motors whining with every motion as she dismantled the tread without a touch. Mechu-deru was the best tool of all for an engineer. It was done with quick and precise execution, each metallic puzzle piece separated from its mates and suspended in an orderly fashion.

The mechanic was quick to replace the sensor and Cara adjusted the tension roller. With front tunnel assembly back in place Cara was satisfied,

"Now move!"

The Rumbler's multi-headed drill growled to life as the propulsion kicked in, the heavy treads leaving a pitted signature. Cara watched as the other units continued to storm out from their transports without further hindrance.

Out of the hundreds of vehicles landing on the dustbowl, one lemon wasn't bad odds, yeah? She made communication with the second wave of subterranean transports, catching a ride with another Rumbler.

"All subterranean units: descend immediately once you've reached your dig point." The ID10 droid crawled over her shoulder, the light of its green eye skipping as it projected a holographic display.

 

[Darth Bellum]

​

K O R _ V E X E N

| Location | New Kalandra, Kintan​

| Objective | Raze the Capital​

​

The day of reckoning had come for the Silver Jedi who had enjoyed their peace without the Sith Empire's incursion into their space. Now that time was at an end and war once again would come right to their doorstep. It had been some time since the Sith had ventured any further than the mere borders of the Silver Jedi's fringe worlds, now making a bold strike further into their space to establish a forward staging ground of Kintan. After having a brief meeting with one of his subordinates, the Sith Armada had finally arrived, and with it the Gehenna Fleet, at the rendezvous and already began to besiege the planet, having already breached the planetary shields. The massive Baal II - Apollyon Class Star Dreadnaught that served as the capital ship of Vexen's invasion fleet was at the forefront, its devastating Assimilator cannon at the ready. While the Siege Breakers were designed to punch holes in the planetary shield, the Baal II was designed to rob them from the enemy while massively boosting the protection of surrounding friendly vessels.​

​

Without further delay, the Baal II's primary cannon was charged and ready to fire as a devastating lance of orange energy fired from the bow of the ship, making contact with whatever remained of the planetary shield and began to siphon its power and energy, creating a large hole that continued to grow the longer the Baal II was firing. An orange glow began to radiate from the Star Dreadnaught as the power of the planetary shields began to bolster its own defenses while the same orange glow began to radiate from nearby friendly ships that were having a portion of the shields absorbed by the Baal II transfered to them. As the Baal II was siphoning the shields for all they were worth, the ships in Gehenna Fleet began to dispatch troop transports and armored vehicles to the surface of the planet, setting up positions around New Kalandra for a siege of the city as the Silver Jedi were scrambling to bring forth a defensive force to counter their intrusion. Swarms of Sith craft made for the planet's atmosphere like an angry swarm of insects that cast dark clouds on the surface below.​

​

Kor Vexen stood on the bridge of his Star Dreadnaught, observing the battle from above, fully confident that there was no threat posed to him aboard his overshielded vessel. Vexen had entrusted a detachment of his Nightseers to provide reconnaissance for Major General Irveric Tavlar who had made good use of them for designating targets for barrage. For now, he was just an observer of the battle, letting his subordinates carry out the artillery barrage and siege of the city for the time being while bolstering troop strength on the ground, though he was likely to make an appearance on the battlefront eventually or when the need for his immediate presence was necessitated. In true Silver Jedi fashion, they were caught unaware and off guard as usual, and focusing on the evacuation of their civilian populace. Of course, Vexen was keen not to let anyone escape his gaze or wrath as he ordered his fighter and bomber escorts making way for the planet's surface to engage and shoot down any evacuation vessels that attempted to escape, from ranges that would keep his aerial vessels safe from any ground fire. He was intent on keeping the civilians on the ground and herded into shelters to be made an example of.​

​

It would be some time before the arrival of Vexen's personal forces to arrive on the ground, but once they did, defenses would be established and his Ravager Batallion would aid in the storming of the city. Vexen was interested in how the little insects would behave this time.​

​

 

[Reggie Faayare]

Location: New Kalandra
Objective: Evacuate citizens and defend them against any who try to stop that from happening
Allies: SJO | WelshPsych | Aaran Tafo | Jessica Med-Beq | Wyatt Morga | Lanik Dawnstar | Beltran Rarr | Ryv
Enemies: The Sith Empire | Darth Voyance | Kainan Wolfe

Reggie had begun evacuating the citizens as soon as he noticed the threat. With the help of Simon, the Padawan was able to gather as many families as they could and began guiding them away from the danger. The sound of screams and shells filling the area. Through the force, the Padawan could sense the loss of life all around him. It was terrible; a sickening feeling. Past that he could sense the Dark side energy that their enemies used. There was a particular one that he recognized, that dread that he felt twice before coming back to him. Darth Voyance was on the battlefield this day. It seemed like he was encountering the Sith lord a lot lately. Then there was something else that caught his attention.

The Voice of another Sith lord came on frequency, one that Reggie hadn't met before. He spoke of peace bringing only tragedy and weakness, and how the Jedi, who he called hypocrites, supported the lie that peace brought with it. What nonsense was Reggie hearing? They acted like war didn't bring tragedy and pain; like war was the true way of the galaxy. They spoke of conflict bringing about strength and prospering civilizations, like that couldn't be achieved without the horrors of war. They spoke of the Jedi stopping a cycle and the consequence of that was the living being condemned to death, like they weren't bringing death to the galaxies doorstep themselves. How could people follow the words of this Sith lord? How did it inspire hope in others, hope for a better life in the future? The only thing they brought was pain and death, not salvation! Reggie wouldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't afraid. He was, there was no getting past that. But his fear wouldn't stop him from protecting those the Sith threatened. If death was the price for protecting innocent lives, then so be it. Neither he nor those that fought with him would just stand by and do nothing.

The Padawan continued evacuating the citizens, determined to protect the city with everything he had.

 

[Jerek Morrows]

Her shaky, single word question spoke volumes. The Shadow felt a whirlwind of things that exploded out from the young Zeltron before it quieted. Fear and uncertainty, chiefly, but before that panic could take hold of him and send him awash in a sea of doubt she found a lifeboat in his calm. The Knight looked to the Padawan with a soft smile.

The most he could offer was his own resolve. Assurances of victory were for warriors. This was not his battle. His duty was to defend this place, these people, but if he could not beat back the foe he would preserve lives.

Any single life kept from harm was an overwhelming victory for the Jedi.

"What's your name?" he asked her with a kindness uncharacteristic of their current situation in his voice. He had to take her mind off of the things that threatened to overwhelm her if he was going to offer direction. Then, "call me Jerek."

Kyra Perl

 

[Darth Voyance]

​

Location: Outside New Kalandra City
Objectives: Engage Wyatt Morga and Lanik Dawnstar ’s Jedi Contingent
Allies: Irveric Tavlar , Darth Bellum
Enemies: [RP Coordinated] Wyatt Morga , Lanik Dawnstar ; [Additional] Reggie Faayare
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

​

She felt it. A disturbance in the fabric of the Force, a tear that shattered into a maelstrom before her eyes. From a whirling vortex of Force disturbed space, a cohort of Jedi emerged charging forth towards the artillery pieces. The Force was strong with them, it bent to their will and in the void beamed like a bright flame.

A flame that blinded Voyance for a moment, distracting her advance. A shell exploded in the time while she was distracted, and it showered her with debris and mud. Splattered across her face, leaving her golden eyes shimmering like furious gems in filth. She shook her head and rubbed the smeared earth from her face by sliding the vambrace of her fore-arm.

The Jedi were close now, coming straight for her line of battle. She would not let them get near. She deactivated her lightsaber and clenched her hands into a fist. The Force that swelled around her men, emboldening them slithered out from their minds and moved to her fists. It boiled and raged like a thunder, crackling in the void and manifesting around her fingers in waves that distorted the space around her in hot vaporous waves.

Drawing her fists back for a moment, she held the pressure of the Force in them before flinging her hands out in a crushing burst of Force energy. The telekinetic blast that propagated from her hands was a tidal wave. So suddenly did it depart her person that it flattened the air before it, creating a loud crack, like a starfighter breaking the sound barrier.

The torrent of malice born into a destructive wave ripped and tore the earth before it as it traveled. It picked up debris, corpses, and fire from exploding shells, carrying it all as projectiles. It powered its way towards the Jedi that had emerged from the strange portal.

Voyance drew her hands back and ignited both sides of her double-sided lightsaber and turned to her knights. Visibly angry and with a wild animal stare in her eyes she screamed in the Force to them, her bellow piercing their minds and energizing their spirits with dark determination.

“Kill the Jedi! Bring me their heads!” She hissed, before pointing the end of her saber at them, the mustafarian lava kyber crystal making parts of the beam splatter out plasmatic lava.

“Or I shall have yours!”

The Knights ignited their sabers in reply and charged forward as Voyance watched.

​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Location: Fort
Interactions: Jerek Morrows
Objective: Ready oneself

She swallowed hard, a bit of steel finding its way into her voice. "Kyra. I'm-I'm Kyra." Her voice dispersed back into a breath, goosebumps erupting over her skin.

The Force felt thick and muddy with their presence. She had never had her sense of the future so clouded before, but as each moment passed and their bodies grew closer, it pressed down on her-- swallowing-- constricting-- smo--

She forced a deep breath in an out, conscious of her tendency to not separate herself from what she sensed. And boy was the dark side something to sense. She gave Jerek a tight smile, her eyes pinching as she looked back to the ceiling.

"This is my first- first time. I've been preparing for months," she admitted to the stranger. Silver or not, she confided in him. Many who knew Kyra would accuse her of being too trusting, but the girl ran off instinct. She trusted with her gut. His calm was a beacon, and she was like a moth to a flame. She drew strength from his confidence, her attention slowly pulling back to him.

Wide, blue eyes gleamed up at him in distress. "Will we be alright?"

 

[Jerek Morrows]

Jerek rose slowly, his black robes flowing out to touch the floor as he stepped closer to the girl. He crouched in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was the duty of a Jedi to preserve peace, and calm was a chief aspect of that. He had to keep her from the darkness, physically and spiritually.

Until he achieved that, everything else came second.

"Young one, we can prepare a lifetime for the things that the Sith will throw at us and still never fully be prepared." It was a truthful admission, and one ridden with sentiment many Jedi would rebuke. Honesty in this moment would teach her for the future.

"It is not for a Jedi to be ready for war," he counseled, "but to assure that life goes on after."

The Sith came to destroy. They wanted to leave nothing of the enemy because they hated what the Jedi represented. He offered the girl hope, because that was the greatest gift that the Jedi could give.

"Keepers of the Peace," he told her, "have to first find their own."

Kyra Perl

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Location: New Kalandra
Allies: Lanik Dawnstar
Enemies: Darth Voyance │ Irveric Tavlar │ Darth Bellum │ Aerarii Tithe

​

War.​

​

It was a loud, boisterous thing - and it threatened to break the ear if you listened too close. Here in the trenches, all that could be heard was war - in all its endless glory; from the firing of artilery guns, to the shots of blasters and slugthrowers, and the righteous - if not fearful - cry of men as they were thrown to the grinders of the front line. A thousand men would die this hour, and a thousand men the next;​

​

And Wyatt was among it, but it was not War he heard, only the quiet zephyr of the force past his ears. He was at peace, even as the tinge of his blue lightsaber ripped flesh from man, and souls from their bodies - Wyatt didn’t enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it was a chore like any other.​

​

He kept this mantra in his mind as he pushed forward - hell bent to save the city from this assualt; from the Sith that sought to kill, maim, and enslave the Jedi and their protectees. A righteous killing if Wyatt ever had one, but one that he would have to consider later; when lives were not at stake.​

​

It was when Voyance shouted through the Force, let rip from her hand a wind that stole bodies and flesh, that Wyatt glanced back. He showed no emotion then, dead pan and apathetic as he was, but he knew there was danger in his tone - a Sith Lord was always dangerous when enraged. Yet, his eyes were drawn to the Knights with her - a dozen or more had drawn their gaze on him;​

​

A pack of wolves hunting the elk.​

​

His breath was slow, methodical as the whir of his blade reflected bolts back at their shooter, and he came to a relatively slow pace before them. Master Morga was the most experienced among those that had come - and it was obvious off a glance he was the most dangerous. The Knights knew this, Wyatt knew it, and he intended to leverage it -​

​

He would be the opening the padawans and volunteers needed.​

​

“There is only the Force…”, he offered himself as the zen was amplified -​

​

When the first came at him, his blade danced like it was more liquid than saber. Twisting around, he seemed almost asleep as he deflected blade after blade - launching them aside and at one another; and yet none could touch him. A Battlemaster in action - he was a master of all seven forms, and it showed now more than ever as his lightsaber fought off more and more Knights that approached him.​

​

He rushed across the lines, dragging more attention to himself as he did - but his mind was elsewhere. While his body could react seemlessly to what came, he reached out, spoke to Lanik -​

​

“Now is your chance. Take out the artillery. Nothing else matters.”​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Only they held the privilege of standing beside the Sith Emperor and his Shadow Hand, of having such lives placed in their capable hands. It was a rite earned through countless decades of servitude, of blood and sacrifice in the name of House Zambrano that earned the Blackblade Guard a legendary place among the stars as one of the most elite fighting units the galaxy has ever seen. No one in the Sith Empire had ever sacrificed more in the name of the Zambrano Lords. Every single battlefield the Eye of Solomon flew on was won through their blood, Blackblade blood. Blood they willingly gave in the name of their undying masters to ensure the complete submission or total annihilation of their enemy. They gave their masters unwavering faith, unshakeable loyalty that ran deep into the very DNA of each soldier to survive the training and take up the oath.

They were looked upon with awe.

As the Butcher-King’s men moved through the halls of the cavernous Hope’s Bane, and other attending ships people from every branch of the Sith Empire stopped. They stood on the fringes of hallways and between the doors of adjacent chambers and watched with a mixture of awe, envy, inspiration and even fear as the mysterious gigantic champions of the ruling Sith Dynasty moved. It was a mystique formed through their infamous black armor that they never took off, almost never revealing their faces beneath. It was the annunciators that garbled talk among units and turned their voices demonic that disguised the identities of every warrior. They held a familial bond like no other fighting unit in the galaxy, a unity that carried them through the worst conflicts imaginable.

Kintan.

To the Blackblade Guard it was just another battlefield, another world to burn in the name of their masters. Orders were handed down through Highlord Osbasid, the Lord of Iron who began planning alongside his top generals. For the operation the First Onslaught Corps was selected for the task of invading Kintan and they would tear down the towering Fortress Kh’aris to its very foundation, in the name of their lords they would bring war and death to the Silver Jedi Order. War was something the guard had long since perfected, refined against the greatest enemies to ever stand against the Sith and House Zambrano over the course of their history. The skies above the war torn world were filled with ships as the first waves of Ferrara-class ships descended. The very first waves cut through the atmosphere surrounded by squadrons of starfighters that escorted them down through war torn skies down to the arid world and the fortress below. The skies were filled with anti air flak as the ships descended in a preselected perimeter around the fortress, depositing thousands upon thousands of the elite soldiers. It was a slow, grinding war of inches as they were dropped into the teeth of enemy fire. But these weren’t just any guardsman.

They were the young bloods. Initiates, the new warriors those who survived a crucible of training, implants and bioengineered organs to change their forms on a cellular level. To complete their training they needed to face one final crucible, to step in the jaws of death itself. Every warrior understood their chances for survival were low as they marched directly into defensive batteries, auto turrets and an innumerable amount of other such defenses. These warriors worked to establish a foothold erecting powerful energy shields, digging in positions surrounding the perimeter and effectively encircling the fort. Thousands died blood slicked the sun touched earth but ultimately the youngbloods managed to establish the staging ground. They probed the defenses, testing the mettle of their opponent

Then came the veterans.

In unsettling silence came the transports of the battle born, the veteran elite of the Blackblade. Men and women who served on every battlefield the Sith Empires of the past countless decades since the earliest days of the first Sith-Mandalorian War. They brought down with them thousands of heavy tanks, walkers, armored personnel carriers, mobilizing countless mechanical infantry and artillery pieces. They touched down with such fury that the ground shook, vehicles left ramps unleashing their devastating armaments. The men of the First Onslaught Corps began their assault in earnest and the very ground shook and rumbled beneath their towering war machines of black iron. The fortress shields disappeared under a massive rolling cloud of fire from the sheer volume of shells that were poured down from all sides.

A malign ship cut through the skies above.

The Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis stood alongside the Sith Emperor in his shuttle, his form wreathed in darkness. The skin of the Lord of Lies was unnaturally pale almost white, his eyes burned with molten fire as a helmet receded from his head “The First Corps is in place their barrage has begun.. Advances across the globe are moving as expected. As ordered life as they know it will cease to exist.” He said.

Darth Carnifex

 

[Nitrogen Uaffell]

Location: Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace
Allies: TSE
Enemies: SJO
Objective: It's boardin' time

Nitrogen, greatest Sith and soon-to-be greatest pilot this world had ever kriffing seen, was already slipping into his flight suit with frantic speed, preparing to enact the directive he'd been given at the behest of a Sith Lord he'd been serving for the past few weeks. He knew full well what it was; a test. There was no room for failure.

The objective: board a capital ship with a skeletal squadron of Marines, capture high-ranking officers, and turn its weaponry against the rest of the Jedi fleet, all while escaping without a hitch His purpose: make the operation as swift and casualty-less as possible.

By all accounts, it was a suicide mission, and even the overconfident apprentice could feel doubt creep into his patriotic determination. But the Sith were expected to do the impossible daily, and lead the men sworn to the Empire's service to victory through example. It was only a suicide mission if he failed in his duties. And THAT wasn't happening anytime soon.

As the Apprentice placed his helmet on and properly sealed the suit, he looked quietly at the 12 marines that were to be the backbone of this mission, themselves helping each other into their space-worthy Legionnaire armor and checking their armaments. Together, they had the combined hardware and technical know-how to bring down a dreadnought from the inside in minutes; Nitro just had to keep them alive. It partially infuriated him that he was being hampered with an extra babysitting job, but at the same time he'd slowly come to respect at least some of the rank and file of the Sith Armada the more he'd actually trained with them. The supreme confidence these marines had when speaking to him, a Sith Lord in the making, was inspiring to say the least.

"ATTENTION, ALL SECOND-STAGE PILOTS, ON DECK. REPEAT, ALL SECOND-STAGE PILOTS, ON DECK."

Their cue.

"Move, move, move!" he shouted as he clipped his lightsaber and a standard-issue Armada pistol to the belt of his flightsuit, wasting no time in rushing towards their assigned flight deck.

"Outta the way!" he yelled as he forcibly pushed his way through the crowd of airmen attempting to reach their QIEs in peace, running towards the nearest fighter. Unfortunately for him, a pilot was already attempting to climb into its cockpit.

And unfortunately for the pilot, patience never was a strong point for the Sith.

Mentally gripping the pilot by the legs, he exerted his command over the Force to literally pull the Corpsman straight out of the cockpit, flinging him out towards the back of the hangar. "Outta my ship karkhead!" he taunted, before once more used the Force to jump straight into the empty cockpit from the back.

From there, the muscle memory of his flight sims took over. Cursory diagnostics and engine ignition were over within seconds. Looking over, he could already see the marines he was escorting piling into the awaiting gunship. No more delay; it was time.

Takeoff, smooth as Corellian butter, with the roar of quad ion engines at his back..there was nothing quite like being in the seat of an Imperial fighter.

Syncing up in defensive formation with the gunship, he would initate the next step of the plan he'd been relayed, opening up comms with the squadron currently exiting the ship he was stationed on.

"Dominion Leader, this is Uaffell. I need half of your squadron, immediately. Internal Combustion Protocol has been initiated. Orders from high command."

"Why're you always jankin' us up Uaffell...frickin' kids...10 thru 16 are on their way."

"Y'know just for that, I'll literally break you in half when this invasion junk is over. Toodles!"

Soon enough, including Nitro's fighter, a total of 8 Dominance-Class QIEs were holding fast in a defensive formation around the gunship carrying the payload of marines. They turned round towards the SJO fleet, awaiting a target to open itself up for precision insertion.

Spoiler: Actions, Items, and Accompaniment

ACTIONS TAKEN: Initiated pre-boarding protocol. Mustered protection for an escorted gunship. Awaiting target.

ITEMS:

• Dominance-class Sith-Imperial Strike Fighter
• PU-96 “Imperius” Flight Suit
• 1x SIF-57 Personal Sidearm
• Nitro's Lightsaber (On CS)

ACCOMPANIMENT:

• (Temporary) 7x Pilots in Dominance-class Sith-Imperial Strike Fighters
• 12/12 Marines wearing/wielding
  • Spaceworthy Sith Imperial Legionnaire Armor Mk.III
  • Autokrator Assault Blaster Rifles
  • Thermal Detonators
  • Malware payloads and equipment to climb in your windows and slice your systems up.
  • Piloting a Mailoc-class Sith-Imperial Gunship