Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[Heinrich Faust]

The house of cards has finally collapsed. One by one, each of the Sith states have fallen in upon themselves, pressures from within and without proving to be too much for the disparate nations that once claimed sovereignty over the east. Some worlds sought independence, whilst others descended entirely into anarchy -- the fate of the Sith’s ancestral homeworld remains undecided. The forces of the light and its allies converge upon Korriban. Some move to mete out judgement, some to secure knowledge, and others to destroy it. The Ashlan fleet, flanked by those of its allies, sends an army to secure the cities of Korriban and its places of dark knowledge, just as the forces of the Maw move to claim the planet’s forbidden secrets for themselves.

Unbeknownst to all, the highest echelons of the Crusade have other plans for Korriban. An ancient ritual has been unearthed from the forgotten corners of the Ashlan Church, and with it comes the possibility of a great shift for the accursed world. The planet will be changed forever, though in what way remains to be seen.

Deep beneath the Sith Academy lays a dark and terrible chamber, with an altar at the center. It’s purpose made abundantly clear from the profane murals depicted along it’s surface. It was made for ritual... it was made to sacrifice Jedi.

As the Brotherhood of the Maw plunder the Sith Holy World of Korriban, the New Sith Order hunt the remnants of the old Sith with zealous fervor. The Dark Lord of the Sith rallies a retinue of his faithful to take possession of the ancient and abandoned ritual chamber deep below. There in the silent darkness he begins a ritual to commune with the foul Bogan itself for some nefarious plot in his desire to dominate the galaxy.

By the Ashla, this act cannot be allowed to succeed! We must secure the Academy and purify the temple with a ritual of our own to bathe the sinister planet in a wave of Force Light. Korriban will be made clean! The Sith will be undone!

Generation after generation of Sith pillaging their own heritage for power, stripping Korriban’s tombs bare over thousands of years, has left the desert planet a barren husk, a hollow shell of its former self. With most of its treasures looted, only deep excavations of long-hidden tombs can still yield objects of ancient power. The Sith Eternal was in the midst of such excavations within the Valley of the Dark Lords, until their feudal empire collapsed, forcing them to suddenly withdraw with all the resources they could. Their huge excavation sites lay empty in their wake, half-finished at most, strewn with equipment too large to quickly transport… until the Maw came.

After the crippling blow to the Eternal at Felucia and the devastating hit that split the Sith Empire at Thule, the Brotherhood desire more.. spurred on by the secretive New Sith Order to finish what they started. Now the Brotherhood has taken over the digs, forcing slave labor crews to finish the work that the Sith Eternal started: cracking the last of Korriban’s ancient bones to extract their figurative marrow, the deepest-buried secrets and artifacts. Their goal: to defend the excavations long enough to explore the lost catacombs and extract their hidden wealth. Traps, dark spirits, and twisted Sithspawn monsters lurk within, threats that must be overcome if the marauders are to seize power from the ancient Sith tombs.

Standing against them, seeking to ensure that these final relics of the Sith remain dead and buried, are two powerful forces: the zealots of the Ashlan Crusade, seeking to purify the planet and erase the legacy of Ashla’s greatest enemies, and their old foes the New Imperial Order, determined to defeat the genocidal Maw and stamp out all Sith secrets before a new Sith Empire can rise from the ashes of the Third Imperial Civil War. And so the archaeological digs have now become the site of a bloodbath, a struggle to uncover the final treasures of the Dark Lords… or to bury them forever.

The Brotherhood’s Armada hangs above the Sith homeworld of Korriban as the Grand Ashlan Fleet emerges out of hyperspace, accompanied by allied fleets. The battle rages above the planet as forces scramble to break the Maw fleet, although they will find that more than simple ships have come to Korriban. Death and destruction follow in the Maw's wake, and the skies above Korriban will be filled with the cries of the dead. Can the planet survive such a confrontation?

​

Attackers

Opposition

Ashlan Crusade Cedric Grayson Pietro Demici Isla Draellix Sala Corsanis Corin Grayson Dagon Kaze Eliz Kadann Aaran Tafo Darth Petrichor Romi Jade Starlin Rand Mikhail Grayson Lonnie Kai Tristan Evore Darth Themis Geiseric NIO Caarlyle Rausgeber DECEASED Aron Gowrie Captain Albrecht Herlock Fiolette Fortan Hiran Avola Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran Rurik Fel Enedina Tal Rexus Wenck Galactic Alliance Aerarii Tithe Damsy Callat Auteme Allyson Locke Viers Connory Eslo Anderson Relynia Sorrene Leon Gallo Constantine Oliva Max Darksun Zark San Tekka SJC/CIS/EE Coren Starchaser Ingrid L'lerim Kyyrk Verros Independents Din Skirata Noelle Varanin Darth Mori Cord Starfall

Brotherhood of the Maw Darth Solipsis Derix Tirall Tegan Starfall The Mongrel Zori Kapshan Kraujar Sars Marlon Sularen Caligula Maestus Pom Stych Tivé Astrea Darth Vindictus Dakrul Mith'arn'oura Dyans Keto Khaostra Devoid Gnost Zym Sith Lark Alisteri Haxim Zolasha Tyrin Isari Tremiru Valen Arenais Darth Vird Lunafreya Solidor Taeli Raaf Danika Leventis Chasianna Laertia Io Jake Daniels Darth Daiara Darth Voracitos Darth Adekos Darth Orcus Darth Ophidia Melydia Gold Darth Carnifex KV-6000 Independents Ishani Dinn Kal Crane Baxa The Battalion Dis

OOC note: if you need to be moved to another spot in the roster, please send me a message and I will get it done.

Let the battle for Korriban begin!​

​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Leader of the Dawn of Hope
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Side: Attacker
Objective: Save Sith artefacts; try to save Adrian
Location: Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban
Equipment: 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Brynja coat and hat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Darth Petrichor

[ Last Days… ] ​

Korriban; Ingrid hadn't been on the planet in years, the last time was when she was here with Adrian and even met Beltran Rarr when they became allies even though they were present as enemies. She and Adrian were already married, and a few days later the man died at Dantooine. And now she came to the planet exactly because of him, and because of the Nexus. She’s trying to do something like she did on Byss, though she didn’t plan to die now. She has developed a lot since then. It was here to:

To try to bring him back…

Now she arrived with the invaders, the only reason for that was to get down to the planet's surface easily. She was not at war with the Sith either, they dissolved their treaty in peace. Last but not least, Ingrid did not want the destruction of the planet. As always, she was a neutral party. The aim is still to protect civilians and monuments and artefacts. She did this throughout the Third Civil War; why change right now?

Now, however, she had to be much more careful, as she only had to take one wrong step, and both sides could turn against her. Ingrid has always strived for the golden mean, all her life. The Empress didn’t like the Sith, but she acknowledged what they created was invaluable, both art and just about everything else. The dropship with which she arrived landed in the Valley of the Dark Lords. The hot wind played with the woman's hair who was looking through the place, perhaps for the last time.

It was time to get to work before it was too late.

 

[Ishani Dinn]

The Sith may have gone into hiding, but the wheels of dark education at the academy on Korriban took a little while longer to stop. Acolytes disappeared by the dozens every day, swept away to unknown havens by their masters or abandoning ship in the wake of the end of what was supposed to have been an “eternal” rule.

Left aimless after the apparent disappearance (again…?) of Arcturus Dinn and the uncertainty of her future, Ishani was still attending classes up until the very end. One morning she awoke, got dressed, and was sleepwalking down the hall towards the training rooms when she stopped, noticing at last the eerie silence that had descended upon the empty corridors.

The silence didn’t last for long as a rumbling shook the ground. She let the books she had been carrying fall from her arms, landing in a pile at her feet. Then she turned and ran back the way she had come, hurrying to gather up as many of her belongings as she could.

But what was the point of that if she died here? She stopped searching, having already seized what was most important to her in her backpack, and headed out the door. Her ship would be outside waiting for her. She only needed to reach it and escape—

The sound of voices, foreignly accented, reached her ears. Ishani ducked behind a weathered pillar, her heart hammering in her chest. She was not a great warrior and her experience in battle was limited. There were no allies at her side, only… only a clay servant.

Closing her eyes, she reached out into the Force. The golem was stowed away aboard her ship. She bid it awaken, hoping that it could at least provide a distraction so she could escape...

Aaran Tafo​

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Korriban, Mawite Excavations
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA

Was this the legacy of the Sith? A dusty, crumbling ruin?

Standing at the edge of a vast open pit, his scattergun leaning casually on one shoulder, The Mongrel shook his head in disgust. Having seen the state of this place, the birthplace of the Sith species and the dark tradition that had taken their name, he was more certain than ever that this cycle of galactic history was drawing to a close. For thousands upon thousands of years the Dark Lords had cannibalized their own past, laying waste to their cultural monuments in their quest for ancient objects of power. Tombs had been looted, temples pillaged, shrines despoiled, all by the descendants of their builders. Now, only a desiccated corpse remained.

But a corpse still had bones, bones that could be cracked by ingenious scavengers so the beasts could suck out their nourishing marrow. That was why the Brotherhood of the Maw had come: to steal whatever remained on this barren rock. After they had destabilized the Sith Eternal with their daring raid on Felucia, causing the infighting-plagued feudal empire to tear itself apart, the Brotherhood had remained in the region. Without the protection of a major military, the worlds of the Stygian Caldera had been laid bare before their might... and Thule had awakened in them a taste for dark artifacts.

Although the major tombs had been thoroughly looted by the time of Darth Bane, some two thousand years earlier, the Brotherhood still had a good idea of where to start looking. Like any clever alliance of raiders and scavs, they simply took over the work that others had already begun, sparing themselves the effort of careful scholarship and a long, painstaking search. During the time when the Sith Eternal had maintained its capital in this desolate place, the dark regime had begun a number of deep digs into secret repositories only hinted at in Sith legend. But then they had been forced out.

The Maw would finish what their foes had started.

For his part, The Mongrel cared nothing for the magical trinkets rumored to lurk beneath the sand. He needed no sorcery to defeat his foes, and spat on those who required such tricks, the Jedi most of all. But if retrieving the heretical relics of the vanishing Sith would bring glory to the Three Avatars, then he would do it. He was bound to obey the word of the Heathen Priests, and of the Dark Voice most of all, and they had commanded that he oversee and defend the dig. So there he was, doing a job for which the Taskmaster was better suited: watching over the slaves as they excavated.

It was a dull task, standing there at the edge of the spiral-shaped pit, watching the slaves and droids haul load after load of rock and sand up from the bottom. Even the crack of the shock whip and the cries of agony that accompanied it had long since ceased to amuse him. Though it was a desert where nothing but fungus and lichen seemed to grow, and even then only hidden in the carved hollows of broken tombs, the planet was surprisingly cold; the frigid wind sank into The Mongrel's bones, and he pulled his cloak of Lao-mon furs tighter around his mechanical shoulders.

He was still organic enough to get chilly.

Despite the boredom and discomfort, their efforts had begun to bear fruit. The Sith Eternal had been correct about the locations of some long-buried shrines and minor tombs, and the Brotherhood had begun to uncover their entrances and explore their corridors. It was slow work, and costly - ancient traps and twisted Sithspawn filled the darkened halls, claiming the lives of many of the slaves sent in to investigate them. Even then, however, they had gained a number of objects of power, things that were worthless to The Mongrel's eyes but made the Heathen Priests chatter excitedly to each other.

For now, the marauder warleader watched the perimeter of the dig site, his ocular implants scanning for any signs of trouble. With the Ashlan Crusade mobilizing on the galaxy's eastern fringe, there was always the risk of the zealots moving in to the attack... and the New Imperial Order had hounded them tirelessly since Csilla, most particularly during that costly battle on Ilum. The Mongrel still owed the Galidraani, among them two of the only men he'd met who could match his skill without wielding sorcery, a storm of vengeance for the losses they'd inflicted on his raiders there.

And his confrontation with Gowrie had been too long delayed.

Anyone who wished to assault the dig would have to fight uphill to reach the rim of the excavation pit, past the traps and foxholes the Brotherhood had made out of caves and crags the whole way up the slope. Then they would have to cleanse the pit itself, fighting all the way to its cavernous bottom. They would be opposed every step of the way by a vast coalition of Maw marauders and auxiliaries, from the fierce Kagan-Jin Rough Riders to the hulking, cybernetic Knyghts. And no small number of warbeasts lurked among the crags, waiting to be unleashed. The Mongrel smiled.

Attack them? He hoped someone would try.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW​

The Dark Lord of the Sith toiled in rituals profane and unholy. Surrounded by his faithful, chanted whispers echoed forth through the barren underbelly of the once-more abandoned Sith Academy. The chamber hummed and crackled, red sparks of light leapt between ignited sigils and sacred runes. At the center of the assembled stood the crux of power, the tool by which the Dark Lord would divine the greatest secrets from the Dark Side itself.

The altar..

Constructed for the sole purpose of spilling the blood of the Light-Sworn upon it’s sacred stone. It would be the catalyst he needed to conjure the link, the bond that would grant him what he sought. A secret, a myth, a hope. The very notion of such a dark gift had eluded the greatest of their number, the powerful Dark Lord Darth Sidious the Great. Now.. here.. he would attempt to learn that which had long been thought of as a legend, a fool’s gambit.

Now that the herd had been thinned and the New Sith Order reigned supreme the Dark Side’s potency over the remainder of the Sith heightened. Their power growing with each day, with each death, with each hour. The only obstacle left was the Jedi, and that too would one day fall in accordance to the Grand Plan.

His sulfuric eyes lifted from his trance, gazing up toward the stone ceiling to a battle just beginning to commence. The Brotherhood had begun to engage the enemy, the Light-Sworn. While the New Sith Order hunted down the feeble remnants of a dying order the rest of the Mawite Horde had begun to tear Korriban apart in search of dark treasures. The enemy would find no shortage of opposition here.

Reality was often disappointing, if all went to plan soon it would be whatever he wanted..

Cedric Grayson

​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Maintaining orbit," chimed the deck ensign, his words garbled in ghoul-speak, the mysterious battle language the Kainate used during field operations. All of the organic and strand-cast crewmembers were fluent in ghoul-speak, and they each nodded independently as the message relayed through the chain of command. "Systems nominal, gravitational stabilizers holding. Orienting patrol squadrons to sweep perimeter." Each word was clipped and precise, almost robotic, as the bridge officers moved in eerie synchronicity.

Scanners picked up the distinct signatures of seventy-two starfighters as they moved on orbiting trajectories around the larger vessel, each ship relaying the data from their own scanners back to the mothership and between each squadron. The pilots rarely spoke except to relay prudent information on positioning and visual scanning, their training suppressing their other functions to keep them focused on their tasks.

Everything appeared clear and calm, the space above Korriban devoid of significant conflict. Then, other ships began to materialize in-system. Slowly at first, by ones and twos, and then great multitudes flashed into existence on the long-range scanners. The first ships to arrive were as cruel as those who steered them, radiating a dark evil that was comparable to the aura that permeated out from their own vessel. The others burned bright with righteousness, so bright that it threatened to blind their own crew.

The Eternal Rule angled its prow towards the rapidly converging fleets, but no command was given to accelerate to attack position. Long-range scanners continued to monitor the situation, relaying the position of each ship in real-time, triangulating pathways, among other data analyses. Cy-Techs, their minds plugged directly into scanning equipment, threaded the comm-waves for the distinct chatter of warring fleets.

"Increase patrol perimeter to one-point-one, maintain formation unless provoked." The starfighters circling the Eternal Rule spread further out from the battlecruiser, their sensors now finely tuned to anything approaching from the distant fleets.

"Inform his Lordship that the battle has begun."

​

Darth Carnifex watched in silence from the long divan, two crimson guards standing silently at either end. He was alone in his chambers, save for his silent guardians, and was dressed in black ascetic vestments. Several feet in front of him was a mass of rippling metallic liquid that roiled and writhed like the waves of a vast ocean. His eyes followed the patterns created as the metal moved back and forth, frequently collapsing in on itself as the vibrations that animated it grew more erratic.

Suddenly, the vibrations ceased and the liquid metal grew still. The Dark Lord's eyes lazily moved to stare at the door opposite of him, which opened to reveal the supine countenance of a messenger. The creature, for they were but a lowly thing, walked in silently and fell to their knees in supplication. They only arose after several moments, having been bid to do so by his command.

"Supreme Excellency, the Ashlan and the Maw have arrived."

Carnifex did not react, his face was expressionless and his body motionless. In truth, one needn't inform him of such occurrences, for the Oracles had already foretold of what would transpire. They had peered beyond the veil of time and space to divine the great conflagration that would erupt over Korriban, the tomb of kings.

Such was the power of potent prophecy.

He made the messenger stand there in awkward silence, his eyes never wavering in their intense glower at him. Then, finally, he spoke slowly and with great deliberation. "Move us within an optimal range. Command a third of our defensive screen to launch probing raids on the Jedi perimeter, ascertain their strength and the position of their flagship. I will journey to the bridge momentarily."

"By Your Will, I Obey." Replied the messenger, bowing again before disappearing into the hall.

The Eternal Rule's engines flared to life as it began moving forward. As commanded, a third of the battlecruiser's defensive fighter screen broke away from their patrol patterns and moved towards the Jedi fleet. Though the fighters would pass by the Maw fleet, they would take great effort to keep their distance while concentrating their offensive actions against the Jedi. The Eternal Rule would only come to a stop when the perimeter of the two fleets had slipped inside of the firing range of its main cannons, the four Chirikyât-type Autocannons that dominated the front half of the warship.

There the flagship of Darth Carnifex sat, waiting and watching as the wolves began to tear themselves apart.

Chasianna | KV-6000 ​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: The Fatalis, High Orbit over Korriban
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA

High above the cold tombs of Korriban, the Brotherhood warfleet lay in wait.

It had been some time since Tu'teggacha had taken personal command of the Fatalis, time enough for the hulking Super Star Destroyer to be fully repaired from the damage it had taken at Csilla and Thule. Its structure and subsystems were once again operating at full strength and efficiency, though the Ebruchi had opted to leave the battle scars it had earned across its surface, simply reinforcing the armor plating beneath them. Just like the scars each marauder bore, they were signs of the vessel's strength. A shiny, new starship was an untested toy. The Fatalis was an old, rugged hound, anointed with holy laserfire.

The vessels that accompanied the dreadnought were similarly made new - in two senses of the phrase. The Cruxifix Is that had served with distinction at Csilla, and some later at Thule, had been repaired as well, restored to full function and strength. But there were also a number of new vessels, frigates to escort the capital ships. These were the new Samael-class vessels, built in the great shipyards at Osseriton to replenish the Maw's depleted ranks. Where once they had scrounged, cannibalized, and modified the designs of others, now the Brotherhood was producing entire fleets of its own. Their crusade progressed.

At first, the Taskmaster and his battle group had merely kept watch over Korriban, knowing the danger to their artifact-finding mission to be grave. Although the Sith Empire and Sith Eternal had fallen, they had not simply turned to ash in the wake of their defeat; powerful elements of their militaries, along with Sith Lords of devastating might, remained active in the galaxy, and rumor had it that a new secret empire was coalescing out of the remnants of the powers that had been. A strike against Korriban, ancestral homeworld of the Sith, might provoke those remaining elements into a response. They would likely be vengeful.

The Brotherhood, after all, had contributed to their fall.

But what concerned Tu'teggacha far more was the possibility of an attack by the upstart Ashlan Crusade, the light-side religious zealots of the far east. They had declared it their mission to wipe out the Sith and their teachings, and that would mean destroying the very relics and secrets that the Maw had come to the Stygian Caldera to seize. No doubt they would see the Brotherhood as little different from the Sith. Some among the ranks of each side had already encountered each other during the siege of Ninn, and those early blows had confirmed what was already obvious: the two opposite faiths could not coexist in the galaxy.

And so the Ebruchi had not been surprised when his sensors officer had transmitted a report to his command throne, a report of incoming contacts, many of them capital class. It was a crusading fleet, the Taskmaster had no doubt, and it would crash upon their defenses like a self-righteous typhoon. This would be the time in which the Maw's warfleet, vessels both new and refurbished, would be tested against a foe of equal (if opposite) fanaticism... for though the territories of the Crusade and the Brotherhood lay far across the galaxy from one another, there was no question that a state of war would always exist between them.

Until one side perished to the last, anyway. Time to hasten that demise.

"Maintain a defensive formation," Tu'teggacha ordered, laying out his positioning commands on the tactical screen. "Frigates to the flanks and above, Star Destroyers beside and beneath the Fatalis. Keep our lines of fire clear, and prepare to crush them in a withering hail of fire the moment they emerge from hyperspace." Gunners waited with bated breath to carry out his command, determined to open up on the Ashlan forces the instant they came into range. If they jumped in too close to the planet, they would smash directly into a wall of turbolasers, ion cannons, and missiles. They were probably clever enough to keep back...

But it was always worth a try. Every eager commander made mistakes.

Of course, there was another large vessel lurking in the system, keeping its distance from the battle. Tu'teggacha felt a shiver run down his spine as he considered it, feeling the waves of darkness its commander emanated through the Force. He recognized that presence, knew it from the battle above Csilla, when it had stood within the cold bulkheads of the Mercy: Darth Darth Carnifex , once the Sith Emperor, now something... stranger. An eater of worlds, a slayer of species, a master of dark rituals, Carnifex had come back to the Sith homeworld, though what his agenda might be there the Taskmaster could not imagine.

For now, it seemed he might be an ally, despite the Brotherhood's less than gentle handling of the Sith homeworld. Perhaps he had accepted, as Darth Solipsis had, that the key to power lay in the future, not the stagnant past. More likely, he merely wished to see those who served the light crushed, and was willing once again to partner with the Maw in making it so. Whatever the truth, Tu'teggacha was not sorry to see the former Emperor's strength turned against the incoming attack. "Scramble our fighters," the Ebruchi commanded, his facial tendrils twitching in agitation. "Soon they will be upon us. Defend the capital ships!"

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought	Holding Position
Crimson Offering, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Holding Position
Severing Blade, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Holding Position
Sanguine Cruor, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Holding Position
Vile Nativity, a Samael-class Frigate	Holding Position
Ember of Sin, a Samael-class Frigate	Holding Position
Opened Vein, a Samael-class Frigate	Holding Position
Wretched Fate, a Samael-class Frigate	Holding Position
Hollow Heart, a Samael-class Frigate	Holding Position

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

1st post

THE_TUATH
KORRIBAN
OBJECTIVE 2 (ATTACKERS): BLOODSOAKED VALLEY

Galidraani Forces: Enedina Tal Hiran Avola Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran Fiolette Fortan

Allies (NIO): Rurik Fel

Allies (AC/GA/EE/SJC): Cedric Grayson Pietro Demici Ingrid L'lerim

Enemies (Sith Remnants):

Enemies (BOTM/NSO/AL): The Mongrel

Gowrie's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Rapier (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Shugg's Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon: Barbershop Razor (Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)

Wildcat Battalion
(Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
55 XT-62 Cataphract Tanks
20 Scout-AFVs
10 MLVs
5 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE I - OVERLOOKING TWO VALLEYS

Genuinely hopin' I can find ye here, Mongrel.... Ah did'nae come dressed up for nuhin', an' ah'm here for a proper fight!
​

A dry, sandy mountainous backdrop as far as the eye could see, with the billowing smoke of conflict in the distant capital city (built over the ruins of Dreshdae) visible to the eyes of the Kellas as his gaze scanned across the landscape, it was clear that this battle would appear different to those he had become so accustomed to, but Lord Aron didn't really care much for such environmental contingencies. Standing with the best soldiers born north of Galidraan III's famed Highland regions, the ghost of one he believed to be the best Woad commoner who ever existed, and the living presence of the other greatest Woad commoner, Gowrie couldn't help but feel empowered by the confidence such an array could lend him in such moments. Every element in play for the Free-State that day, even after all they'd been through to make it to Korriban, looked keener than ever to fight, as the product of their hard work was blowing all around them as they stared on the same valleys their Lord-Commander was beholding so joyfully.

'This is it, lads.... On the very doorstep of oor enemies' spiritual home-world - no as POWs, an' no in armistice or diplomacy either, but as CONQUERORS!!!!'

Howling, screaming, roaring and ululating with everything they were, the men of Wildcat Battalion would give their approval and collectively send it bouncing off the dusty, sun-soaked hills around them; it was clear to both Shugg and Lord Aron that the Tuaths were always more terrifying in battle together than they ever would be among the Commonwealth's growing soldiering array, a glaring fact of which the Kellas had been keen on showing his Woad-born mentor's ghost beforehand. It had been entirely fortunate for Lord Barran and the Free-State's 2nd Armoured Brigade that the Wildcats were only a Battalion, for a full-sized Tuath contingent may have proven twice as ferocious as their Woad colleagues, and may have outshone the Stormchaser's concept in the right circumstances, and yet another fact that wasn't lost on the spirit of Gowrie's Woad-born mentor.

'We won't be alone out there either! For Lady Enedina graces the ground with her Special-Forces array as well! As the Archaisians say,"We are a pride of men!", and I intend to keep that word as a promise to both the Lord-Protector's heir - and to YOU!!! If I can grant you victory in battle like that which we fought for Harnaidan, then rest assured in the knowledge that no Sith forces will stand to get in the way of our next scrap wae the MAW!!!'

Proper able-bodied Lairds should ey'ways draw their swords afore battle. She'll be tastin' blood soon anyways.​

On that latter-matter, we can both agree....

Sliding his trusty, though previously often-neglected rapier from her lion-emblem scabbard, Lord Aron would snarl with his recognisably-Tuath sneer as the long, slender Vibrosword as he drew it out to point the blade's true beauty towards the rising sun to his right, letting the sunlight gleam off her surface as the WIldcats beheld her awe-inspiring form in all her violent glory. Silence would reply, but one of pure, serene wonder, and as the men of Wildcat Battalion readied their hearts for the last ever assault on the Zambrano dynasty, their awestruck faces told Lord Aron all that he need to know, seeing for himself that the men fighting with him were readier than ever to bleed for Tavlar - Imperator, the Blood-Red Lion Banner and the New Order. The breeze would kick up the bloodened-red sands around the Lord-Colonel's feet, hissing the world's presence as the Tuath battalion of Lord Aron stood defiantly atop it, and in that moment, the Kellas knew it was their day to shine like it was in their previous high-stakes outing.

*'Cait-fhiadhaich, tha sinn a ’cur crìoch air ìmpireachd an-diugh! Seo far a bheil an taobh Tuath a’deàrrsadh nas soilleire! AN URRAINN MI LE MI?!?!?!?!'
**'Wildcats, we end an empire today! This is where the Tuath shine brightest! WILL YOU SHINE WITH ME?!?!?!?'

Slamming on the outer hulls of the vehicles like a massive, uncoordinated drumroll, the unrestrained, screaming reply put the full extent Wildcat Battalion's fighting morale on display; and to the extent that it seemed to verge on the teetering edges of bloodlust, rage and the other, darker depths of their minds. This time around, there were no saviour-requirements for Gowrie's men to meet, and therefore, no requirements to show mercy to anyone but staunch allies, something the Lord-Commander of Blue-Heart Brigade had suggested to fully exploit on Korriban in particular. Every soldier present had great, hulking proverbial axes to grind with the Sith in particular, and though these men adhered to the tenets of Tarkinism, the New Order's Wildcat Battalion (along with the Sith their leaders' caste had broken off from) were clearly cut from a different cloth to that of their ancient predecessors; and so, any perceived reservations of theirs would be rendered obviously-absent from the moment they were told of the battles of the Stygian Campaign, and solidified ever so acutely by all the losses they'd taken in stride along their way.

'Good, just what yer Laird likes t'see! IT'S TIME TI READY UP, LADS!!!! LETS SHOW THE GALAXY WHAT A PROPER RIOT SHOUD LOOK LIKE!!!'

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE II - THROUGH RUINS AND RETRIBUTION

'Scott to Wildcat One! We're slipping wide to make use of that dried-out riverbed to the west of our position, Milord. You'll notice it'll slip us round into a naturally wide line, perhaps into what might look like a flanking-position - but this, as you'll know well enough for yourself, depends entirely on which direction the battle ahead is ebbing and flowing towards. Requesting permission to scout ahead as soon as we finish the movement order.'

<"Permission granted, Guardian One! Might as well see if there's any ordnance that's worth stealing, would be nice to see more MLVs alongside the ones we've kept back here. Wildcat One out!">

Like Gowrie, Scott had no margins for error except for those that split life from death definitively, so every last decision would be considered with great care as far as the Wildcats were concerned; the Tuaths didn't have the advantage of numbers like their Blue-Heart comrades, and though they were happy to know that air-support from Galidraani and Anaxsi fleeters would alleviate some of these pressures, Gowrie's men still had to be more careful and considered with their attacks in the battle for Korriban, much like they needed to on Muunilinst. With this outing already shaping up to be far more dangerous than the last, Gowrie's own movements would need to be much more measured than those he made on Csilla and any other active command he'd been placed in control of since, though with all the risks considered, the Kellas still had every intention of moving forward and leaving his artillery at a safe (though workable) distance from the action.

<"Davidson to Guardian One! We're at the stream-opening now, every arc of fire is covered as ordered. Requesting permission to crest the bank an' scout ahead by a few miles or so.">

'Permission granted, AFV One! This is exactly why I wanted Guardian-material leading the AFVs, we can't be having your vehicles operating beneath their tactical-potential, and thus can't be neglecting their real uses to the realm of the obsolete. If you can rack up infantry-kills and siege-pressure without assistance - do so, but be sure to keep your six well-and-truly covered. Guardian One out!'

Be safe out there, Davidson. We only just brought you up from the ranks, lad!​

When the Scout-AFVs pushed ahead in a northeast-facing static line, the XT-62s set to cresting the dried riverbank to scan the horizon beyond once all their turrets and optics were level with the sandy ground beneath; from there, all the remaining Wildcats could scout out decent positions to set up their fall-back outposts and survey the battlefield from the safety of their intended next destinations. With the Battalion-tier objectives handed out, all knew that once their fall-back positions had been established, the Lord-Colonel was free to move up and plan his approach to the Sith forces from there, the same Sith remnants who stood between the Kellas and his long-standing Mawite rival. Major Reed would oversee this part of the op silently for the most part, though still leaving Scott completely assured there would be a complete lack of meddling or interruption of the process, all in the effort to keep their sparse conversations of a curious and amiable nature; Byron would appreciate Alun's hands-off approach, especially as the polite Guard-Captain wanted to show his recently-promoted friend, in reference to learning the craft and in learning what the quiet Tuath nobleman was really capable of.

'Ease up, Byron. Wee Davidson's goat the easy bit, an' PLX-Ones onboard if any heavies get involved. Couldn't be in a better position if he tried, minn.'
I hope so, Alun. I really do....

 

[Starlin Rand]

The official excuse for why Starlin was here was that he was going to be saving artifacts on behalf of Nimdok, who was away (read: in hiding) and couldn’t come to collect them himself. The Crusaders weren’t happy with the idea, but it was enough that he was fighting on their side and willing to look the other way while they slaughtered even the Sith POWs. The real reason why he was here, and still associating himself with the Ashlan Crusaders outside of his apprenticeship to Cedric Grayson, had nothing to do with dusty old relics and everything to do with a girl.

Her name was Isolda, and her face haunted his dreams.

She was one of the first troops to get off the transport, her gold boots crunching Korriban dust beneath her heels. Hefting a lightsaber with a silvery blade, she didn’t turn back to look at him as she leaped into the fray, a whirling dervish of a woman warrior. He tried not to get too distracted by the sun reflecting off her armor.

As Starlin set foot on Korriban, he was overcome with a sense of deja vu. Not because he had ever been here before (a near-miss when captured by a Sith acolyte after the invasion of Ossus didn’t count) but because the last time he was asked to collect artifacts from a battlefield, he wound up losing his hand and shattering his unwavering trust in his master. It had been Dantooine. Needless to say, Starlin and trying to reclaim old chit usually precluded bad things happening.

Yet he was still here, stepping off the transport, lightsaber and shoto in hand, following Isolda into battle.

Tags: Open​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Vive El Darkness​

​

How could they know what exactly caused the Sith to withdraw after an era of domination, to suddenly disappear without a grand finale? They partied all across the galaxy, and nobody knew…nobody else knows, but those involved. The Sith are eternal.



The Darkness stirred from a familiar place, upon an altar she herself had ushered the damned across with her very hands. The ancient runes etched through the air like lingering curses, long left her very own lips right upon the very spot. Her Jinn awaiting her command stirred to life under the magick wrought forth from another living being. What roused them from their slumber, after she had released them from obligation? How they beyotched and moaned from afar to have been disturbed yet again. Why should she have even thought to dissolve the altar? It served more than simply her own coven. Today, a mass convergence seems to be taking place on Korriban, and it felt like sheer sacrilege.



Lord Darth Carnifex had brought the Kainate in; even when he revealed his secrets, he always left far more cryptic gaps. His Mistress never asked him much of anything directly, unless an event were suspect to place their children in unforeseeable dangers. She accompanied him for whatever reasons he determined imperative within his own mind.

The Matriarch is never much for conforming to matters of the Sith, although the plight fascinates her and she reveres it for what it is. She left the safety of her lord's vessel and sought to strengthen the darkside magick which calls to her in its fury, the one thing she truly comprehends without any fault. It would suit all beseeched to contain this vomitus Light which attempts to assault the glorious darkness here. What horrors are responsible for such an unsettling development?

She apparated with a thunderous audible boom which rocked the altar room of the temple, remained hidden first within her own plume of darkness amidst the depth of shadow present, one Darth Solipsis stood over the ancient altar, working hard, and she remembered him as the one who openly called for unification. Perhaps we shall see this phenomenal feat evolve sooner than she ever imagined. She stepped out of the dark cloud and her being instantly became fortified by the Sith Runes she herself had instilled off the tip of her own tongue, many times before. Arms raised, she spoke in her native tongue of the Nightsisters, her words causing the altar to transform from rock, lifeless and meaningless, to reveal its true inspiring craftsmanship, that of the skulls of a thousand jedi. Their bones contorted and they shrieked…their fate suddenly recalled to them…no ashla for you, for here is void of her, if she ever even existed.

As the jedi screeched in horror and lamentation the Matriarch let loose the twelve ancestor matriarchs who are conjoined with her Soul, the Wanicka Coven. Black plumes of smoke trailed from Pom stych Tivé's mouth, before the spirits took their place beside her, encircling the altar completely. They transformed then to decayed corpses, before finally donning their beauty.

All at once, the voices of the Wanica raised up in unison, to reinforce the magick wrought forth here, and to fortify the Darkness rightfully present in the sacred manner that only the Nightsisters can accomplish.​

 

[Maestus]

ALLIES: BotM and too many others to mention
OPPOSITION: AC and everyone else.

Ah Korriban. Maestus half wished she'd been here under different circumstances. Such as pillaging for the artifacts for her own, personal use. She did not like having to share. She mused silently to herself as Darth Solipsis and the Heathen Priests began the ritual.

She had only vague ideas about what her Master was attempting to do. But even from her, he kept many secrets. She hated him for this as well. He taught her, oh yes. But at his own pace. And never speaking in plain speech. He was cryptic and vague. She thought he did it on purpose, moreso than out of any character or personality quirk. No, Darth Solipsis knew exactly what he was doing. And she hated him.

Chances are, that was his goal all along. Teach her just enough to keep her hungry, coming back for more. And truth be told, this was the way of the Sith. She had to earn every scrap he threw her way. This partly contributed to her arrogance. She knew many masters who taught their apprentices everything, too quickly. Usually, the apprentice was ill prepared for such teachings. And they undoubtedly would fall and fail.

The weak deserve to be culled.

She turned her thoughts away from her Master and her future. Right now, she returned her focus on Solipsis. She studied his every movement. Memorized every word he and the Heathen Priests chanted. Nothing escaped her notice. With what she learned here, she could continue researching later.

And then Pom Stych Tivé appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Maestus eyes instantly narrowed. She held out a hand, and the hilt of a weapon flew into it, landing with a resounding smack. She did not ignite it, not yet. She would give the interloper a chance to explain her presence.

Stepping forth from the edge, she moved closer to Pom.

Your face is unknown to me. Who are you?

​

 

[Dakrul]

Location: Korriban, Beneath the Academy
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA

He was afraid... It was so dark here, the flames long extinguished. He had rested at the lowest levels of the Gehinnom, stood shoulder to shoulder to his cursed kin in a realm of the undead, even stared into the abysmal eye of ancient evil.

But nothing was like this.

How did they all not see it? Avatar of rebirth protect Dakrul...

He had been feverishly praying ever since his arrival. This was hell, the Zealot was sure of it. For even as a nightmarish creature, this was a nightmarish world. Even with eyes that could not see and ears that could not hear, he watched wretched fiends walk these dunes and listened to the horrid tales of the breathless whispering into his mind.

The sithspawn "perceived" unlike others did, for he was an immortal being, a soul nearly shredded in the Nether upon his demise forcefully returned to a mortal if not twisted shell. His life existed in two planes, felt and lived in both of them. A cosmic error.

Nevertheless, he was created to serve, and serve he would. Now and always serving his eminent masters, the heralds of new life, the enforcers of fulfillment, the chosen ones.

Today he had the utmost honor, no possibly even the greatest of honors to serve the true master of masters, Darth Solipsis himself led the advance.

On their way into the “Academy”, a new word he had been taught today he was awe-struck at the richness, the potency of the darkness that resided in the beings that dwelled there. Small fickle creatures whose essence he gulped up and fed to the Nether with a mere wave of his hands. These were “Students” yet another new word and he could not resist pondering about his own existence as a student.

The nourishment relaxed him to an extent, and the presence of a god-like Darth so near to his own raised his morale. Of course the path his masters where one would lead to a hellscape like this, of course, they would take on a task so seemingly impossible.

The further down they ascended into these ancient halls of stone and sand the more Dakrul was able to collect his splintered thoughts. Putting together bits and pieces of himself that had previously been flung around by the sheer gravity on this dreadful planet. His master acted as a beacon in these lightless pits. Not to say that he emitted warmth or by the avatars "light" no it was the concentration of his aura that so clearly separated him from all else.

Without being told much the reanimated Cha'ta'ri knew a war was breaking out on the surface, and he was also aware he would be assisting in fulfilling and protecting a ritual that would be held deep beneath. They seemingly reached their destination when the Darth before him began awakening ancient sigils and runes with his mere presence. Dakrul gave him space. Bowing even if the herald would not see it, studying his every movement from a safe distance. Then a snapping booming sounded as a figure stepped out of the shadows. The Zealot could not believe it at first, he saw her, really saw her. A humanish female in dark robes. Pom Stych Tivé entered the chamber.

How was this possible? How ancient and powerful were these creatures that they did not even bend their shape to death?

Then the fire erupted, flames emitted by the newcomer visible only to the "eyes" of the Heathen Priest. The stone table his Master had been operating engulfed in sparks before revealing its true form. One identical in both planes much like the creature that had called upon the metamorphosis. He chuckled at the cries of the light beares, tastefully indulged in them, savored their taste. Nectar so pure and sweet.

Were he to be instructed to lash out at the woman he would, with all the malice and intent to kill that he could muster, for now, he knew his place. A silent guardian, an adviser in the dark arts, a living sponge of dark force energy ready to serve.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

​

Fiolette Fortan had been absent for the entirety of the New Imperial's War with the Sith Empire. She would not be absent from such a momentous occasion as this, a chance to strike a Sith Holy World. The old Admiral did all she could to keep from grinning like a nexu, the Galidraani examined herself in the mirror adjusting the cuffs of her uniform, sliding hairpins as she did so into the cuffs, while her beau Kassandra Distorith approached. "My apologies for a lack of a meditation sphere, my dear, but I trust you'll be able to make do without it." ​

​

Today, Fiolette was not aboard her flagship the Rae Sloane, no, today she strode proudly aboard the RGNV Warspite. A vessel that had long since been coming, and for the time being it would be a Resurgent II, not until at the very least the new shipyards had been completed. She had been given an honorary title of Admiral or at least offered, but she declined. Today she was Captain Fortan of the Warspite and today would be the day that Free-State of Galidraan would make another proud showing. ​

​

"At best I'll just want to be sure no one else can get their powers through here, this class of Resurgent isn't prepared for such a thing," she left out that the next one would be. "You are, of course, more than welcomed on the bridge if that is where you wish to be." A final look over as she smoothened out the uniform. The Royal Galidraani Navy had emerged from hyperspace, each bore the iconic Lion-like emblem on their hulls. Fiolette turned to give Kassandra a final kiss before departing from her personal quarters.

Taking a deep breath she exhaled and uttered a song that every Fortan before her had done. "I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above," her voice was soft. Soft but strong as she made her way toward the turbolift, where she carefully pulled her hair up and away from the collar of her uniform. Fiolette continued on with her song, "entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love." Her voice was now louder as she began to pin her hair into place. The anthem that many a Fortan had sung, that many a Galidraani had proudly sung before could be heard quite clear as she departed the turbolift, and headed for the bridge.​

​

"The love that asks no questions, the love that stands the test," she did not shy away from the song, the song that was more than that it was a vow, a promise to Galidraan of her devotion. For far too long Fiolette had run from her homeworld, run from the family name, and run from who she was. Her niece Natasi, had rightly accused Fiolette of putting her own self-interests ahead of everyone else. Well, that hadn't always been the case and it was high time for Fiolette to return to her roots. "That lays upon the altar, the dearest and the best; the love that never falters, the love that pays the price." She signaled to the communications officer to open an encrypted channel for those Galidraani who wished to hear.​

​

The bridge crew sang along while Fiolette took her place as captain of the ship, "the love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice." The tune of the song died down and she spoke the words as they came forth from memory. "And there's another country, I've heard of long ago, most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know; we may not count her armies, we may not see her King." She paused as the bridge crew began to quiet down to hear her words against the hums of the Warspite's engines, along with the hues of hyperspace as they drove across the void toward the battle that awaited them.​

​

"Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering, and soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase, and her ways are ways of gentleness and all her paths are peace." Fiolette paused once more as she stood proudly in her uniform, "we are to fight among giants, and giants they may be, but we are Galidraani. Our hearts and our spirit for the fight are greater than any giant that might stand in our way. Today, we shall give no quarter, we shall give no mercy. Should we perish today, we perish knowing that God shall receive us and that our lives and our names will be remembered on this day. For the Imperator, the Lord-Protector, FOR GALIDRAAN WE STAND AND WE FIGHT."​

​

​

​

Galidraan Forces: Enedina Tal | Hiran Avola | Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran | DECEASED Erskine Barran
Allies: Rurik Fel | NIO, AC, GA, SJC, EE, CIS
​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

PROJECT RUUSAN: UNTERNEHEMEN VERWÜSTUNG
NIV TREGESSAR
KORRIBAN ORBIT
M A C H T W E C H S E L
@VADM Tarsa Doon | @Carnifex | @Tu'teggacha | @Captain Albrecht Herlock

So this was it. Wrath and retribution tied into one. There certainly existed a purity to what this Ashlan Crusade had of course planned. And to an end, with the collapse of the Sith Empire, one could say that it certainly was a means to an end, one to punish the ruling class of the Sith Imperium, and the new found terror of the Maw for their sins. Csilla, Mandalore and countless other worlds who had for decades been put to the sword by the Sith and their allegiant forces, would finally be broken. Have their own ancestral home crushed beneath the yoke of a coalition hellbent on extinguishing their kin from the Galaxy. To this end, the Admiral Regent had mustered a considerable force to Korriban, sensing that whatever lingering remnants of the Sith Empire and the Brotherhood of the Maw would not take this transgression lightly.

The Admiral Regent strode across the command deck, his boots clicking against the plating, his hands behind his back. Rausgeber took great strides as he took his command post aboard the deck. As he approached, the crew of the Tregessar, staffed by his own personal cadre of veterans saluted. Straightening their posture and saluting the man. Carlyle took his place on the centre of the bridge, able to capably observe all that was to transpire with great efficiency. "Situational report?" Carlyle commanded, his voice low, and terse.

"Milord," Commodore Lilya Gowe approached from a console on the starboard side of the bridge. She was an older woman. One who looked conversely, far less youthful than her superior, although the man was her senior of roughly twenty five years. "We have a dozen or so contacts in orbit sir. A small fleet, hailing from Brotherhoods space, here," Gowe produced a datapad, and gestured to it. Carlyle clasped it with his dewback leather gloves, and cast a cool gaze upon it. "We also, have identified Darth Carnifex's command vessel, in sector six." She gestured there, and Carlyle paused, chewing his lower lip.

"How intriguing, his majesty is wanting to get front row seats to the demise of Korriban." Carlyle smarmily purred, he gave Gowe a nod, "Let's hope we can provide a tragedy for him to mull over." Rausgeber scoffed, his smirk widening to a grin momentarily, "We will maintain a strict distance for now. Until Vice Admiral Doon arrives, and we have a full operational reading of our force here." The Admiral Regent established with a curt nod. "What are operations like on the ground? How goes our cleaving of assets for the Project?" Carlyle passed the datapad back to Gowe.

There was a pause, and Gowe reconfigured it. "We have assets on the ground, beginning to draw away locals for transportation." She informed him, "Provided we can continue mobilisation until just before Korriban's desolation, we should be able to complete your quotas eminently." Now that was good news. More fodder for the foundries deep in the bowels of Prefsbelt IV. With the declaration of a universal amnesty of former Sith Imperial personnel, the great factories of Prefsbelt Command began to grind to a halt. Certainly, there had been some means employed to keep them running with their largely Sith Imperial workforce. But this needed to be supplanted. And Korriban, no longer under the stern protections of the Sith Empire, now was ripe for the plucking. Its populace of cultists, just the right sort to be motivated for arms manufacturing. "We also, have units belonging to the Galidraani Free State operating on the surface."

Intriguing. Carlyle chortled. Seems the Tal's had their own objectives in mind. Not that it was too much of a concern. Korriban was ripe for plunder on the eve of its demise, and there were plenty of spoils for the taking. "We will maintain positions here. Do keep communications with Ground Forces Command open, as to provide any support as necessary." Carlyle continued, "We'll hold the line here for now. And wait to see what weapon this Ashlan Crusade intends to wield."

 

[Vesta]

SIX DAYS AGO..​

METALORN

"You've never told me what you want from the galaxy. I think you should now."

Much had weighed on the Shi'ido's mind in that moment when Aradia had spoken, and, though she knew it was in her own best interest to divulge at least some of the innerworkings of her mind with the girl, she couldn't quite find the strength of will to speak the evils she wished into existence - as if keeping silent, keeping those thoughts inside, was the single thing preserving the one last remaining shred of Vesta Zambrano. It would have to be spoken, perhaps even soon, but now was not the time for her to relinquish her one last tether, even if she was the only one that knew it existed. Her expression hardened, conflicted, and she looked away, towards the gleam of the moon - a moon that was different from one she had stared into before, but its silvery light was a reminder of a night she was slowly starting to forget all the same.

"I want to destroy what led to who I am today." She answered.

It was cryptic, perhaps, but it was also telling - there was much that could be attributed to what created the Sith Lord, both literally and figuratively, in every sense of the word. "The chains that bind us ought to be destroyed, but also the reasons that they were put on us in the first place." Mori added, turning away as she pivoted towards the crypt. Her hand reached out, the earthen coating that covered her sword crumbling into sand - as if undone - and the blade was pulled from its momentary tomb back into her hand through the force, her fingers wrapping around its lengthy hilt without offering any visible indication that she'd expected anything outside such a result.

"Come, you have much to learn. You will learn more of me in the coming days, as we forge our bond as master and apprentice."

Χ Ξ Σ - 6 6 6​

CURRENT DAY​

KORRIBAN

Red sands, devoid of life and home of the dead - this was where it had all began, thousands of years ago. King Adas had led his people here, and abroad to the stars beyond, in order to repel the Rakata, to keep his people free from the bondage of an oppressive people, to maintain a rule of the powerful, of the right. Her people, the adherents to this legacy, had forgotten their purpose, lost their way, and this desolate ruin was a monument to all of their failures, a testament to their collective egos. Tombs that had been gaudily adorned with extravagant jewels and objects of power were picked clean by their successors, and the tombs of those by the next - stagnation had ruled the Sith even before the Brotherhood of Darkness had convened on Ruusan, it was a curse cast from the moment the powerful left anything of worth behind that their lessers, and their progeny, desired. The Sith, destroyer of chains, had willingly shackled themselves to a past, to a tradition, for millennia.

To destroy it would be their salvation.

The Brotherhood of the Maw and their New Sith Order, Darth Solipsis himself even, had chosen to comb the world for some stone yet unturned, for some artifact undiscovered, and Mori had seen it pertinent to bring her apprentice - Darth Daiara - to the desolate world both to show her their history and to show her the pointlessness of their hoarded wealth and power. "Each of them, every single one of these great and powerful Sith, amounted to nothing." She said, her voice full of disdain. "Dead, all of them, the moment they deluded themselves into believing they were better than they truly were." The Shi'ido noted with a sweeping gesture of her hand towards the crumbling edifice that had long since been buried by wind-carried sands as they walked into the path left by the Maw that had arrived before them, a tunnel that was dug deep under the Sith Academy.

She looked towards her apprentice, her gaze sweeping up and over her, and she appeared to see passed her - through heat and beyond dunes that towered around the Academy. The enemy, as she'd spoken to Aradia before, were soon upon them - she'd seen the burning in her dreams, a fulfilment of a prophecy she believed might liberate those that came after them, and her legacy, from the burdens of a past that her predecessors could not let go of. "All of this, all of them, and everything that clings to it, must be destroyed." She said at last, her gaze shifting down towards Aradia's face as the pair walked from the front of the Academy and down into the depths below. It was not long until they were in the chambers beneath that housed old murals and objects forgotten by history, the Shi'ido seemingly unconcerned by the impending arrival of Jedi and the rest of their allies.

"You asked me, before, what it was that I wanted from the galaxy."

Gesturing towards the depiction of the Sith'ari painted in rusted blood upon the worn sandstone walls at her side, a massive Sith destroying their own people in flames - like crops to feed the soil - so that they could be reborn more powerful than before, she raised her gaze towards the ships that emerged in the sky far above. "I want to destroy our past." She said, before looking the girl in the eyes. "So that the Sith may emerge unshackled from what we have clung to for so long."

"I will bleed dry those that resist."

There was malice in her words, not the emotionless cold that the girl might've been accustomed to hearing - a fire was there, deep within the Sith Lord, and it burned hotter than the sun. Like a fading facade the stoic look she'd worn for so long, as well as any semblances of conflict, was steadily replaced with an anger that could nearly be felt as much as it was seen.

"And those that wronged us."

Allyson Locke ​

(Attacking / Intending to destroy the planet)

 

[Zark San Tekka]

CITY OF ASHES
KORRIBAN LUNAR ORBIT
STYGIAN CALDERA
Kirie Thalia Senn
Darth Carnifex Chasianna KV-6000

​

Aboard the Alliance Starhawk which bore his marines Jedi General Zark San Tekka meditated on the Force. Conflict raged all around them like a hurricane of courage and suffering. He concentrated on shielding their presence from Sith augurs while the battleship's crew used one of Korriban's outer moons for its mass shadow, occluding the Eternal Rule's conventional sensor equipment. This was codename Operation Overlord and they were here to assassinate a tyrant.

"He is coming."

Master San Tekka seemed to gaze out the bridge viewport yet his eyes remained closed. His connection to the Force illuminated their surroundings far clearer than even a tactical holodisplay. He used that connection to form new bonds with the minds around him. Zark could sense their heightened focus and resolve. Others would sense it too but the City of Ashes was already cruising at full sublight velocity on a collision course with the Sith battlecruiser SIA agents had identified as Kaine Zambrano's flaship.

"Instruct Commander Senn and Padawan Ito to meet me on the starboard flight deck."

With a subtle flourish of his ivory cape the Jedi Master strode for a turbolift. Polished armor plating gleamed under fluorescence. He still wore his crusader pendant beneath it all, a token of service he could rely on to steady his focus in battle. It reminded Zark of both victories past and the terrible cost they had paid to reach this moment where Darth Carnifex was hunted over Korriban in flames. He could almost remember a young starship captain with similar hopes chasing the One Sith off Coruscant.

How many times was this cycle destined to repeat?

"Today's lesson will concern aggressive negotiations."

His gaze slowly moved across the large hangar in appraisal of the Star Corps marines forming up until they came to rest on the two other Jedi assigned to General San Tekka for this mission. An ebon mane streaked with grey wafted in the engine wash of X-Wing squadrons launching. They were en route to disrupt the Eternal Rule's fighter screen and point defense batteries.

"Are either of you familiar with MandalMotors boarding pods?"

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Darth Petrichor: The Dark Heretic

Allies: Ashlan Crusade & friends

Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith, etc.

Interacting with: Ingrid L'lerim

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave suit, beskar mask

I Tokuni

Part One: Awaken the Sleeping Beast

A few days ago...

The winds had changed...

Petrichor had spent the past few weeks at his academy, pouring over various bits of intel that had found their way to his desk. It had been several months since he had made his ceasefire with Cedric Grayson , and in that time, the Ashlan Crusade had proven to be effective in the removal of the troublesome Sith sects within the Tingel Arm. Nevertheless, though many had fallen, Petrichor knew that somewhere, deep within the bowels of the darkest corners of the galaxy, they would return. It had always been the way of his brethren... destroy, die, rebuild, and once again reveal themselves. The only thing he could bring himself to wonder was... in the end, would the cycle ever come to a close?

As he continued his reading, one of his guards entered the room, standing at attention as he took place next to the door.

"He is here, isn't he?"

The guardsman simply nodded in reply. Petrichor motioned for the guard to send the visitor in. A young Chiss entered the room, carrying with himself the countenance of all of his people. Behind his mask, Petrichor smiled.

"Jorel... it's good to see you again. You haven't reached out to me since, well..."

He hadn't spoken to his former student since the imminent attack on Csilla, and Petrichor had begun to wonder if he would ever see the young man again. The Chiss gave an abrupt, yet respectful bow of the head as he approached Petrichor.

"Master. Yes... I must ask for your forgiveness for my... distance. Things have been rather... difficult as of late. The loss of Csilla has left me with much to do."

His words were cold and distant, reflecting a certain air of frustration. Petrichor understood full well, sensing the anger that seemed to well up within his former student.

"I understand, this must be-"

Jorel's fist slammed on the desk.

"Do you? If you hadn't asked me to stay my hand, I may have been able to save my people... my home!"

Petrichor let out a sigh, rising from his desk to approach Jorel.

"Do you truly think that I didn't weigh the risks? Do you believe that the loss of an entire planet is lost on me? I fully understand the gravity of the situation. What happened to your home is unforgivable, and your pain is well-founded. But make no mistake... I will not allow our mission to be jeopardized by you throwing your life away. Perhaps you would have lived. Perhaps you would have even saved some of your people. But do not mistake my stratagems for apathy."

His words were stern, yet carried a hidden air of sympathy. Jorel had been his first student, and was to this day his star pupil; a true prodigy of The Petrite Order. Petrichor placed a hand on the Chiss' shoulder as he spoke.

"I swear to you, those that harmed your people will see justice. So many of them have already fallen and been scattered to the winds. Absolution will be yours, Jorel. If not today, then tomorrow, or the next. One way or another, we will see those responsible brought to justice."

Moments after he had spoken those words, a transmission came through on the holo-transmitter embedded in his desk. Petrichor rushed over, flicking the hologram to life. One of his agents had sent a one-way transmission, only saying the following...

<<Maw presence on Korriban. Digging in progress. Crusade forces moving in. Requesting orders.>>

Petrichor terminated the transmission, turning back to Jorel.

"Looks like the day may come sooner than anticipated. Gather our forces. Call everyone that we can spare. We're going to Korriban."

Part Two: What's Left to Save?

The Valley of the Dark Lords was likely one of the most plundered locations in the entire galaxy. Centuries upon centuries of Sith had taken their turn robbing the tombs of those older and greater than themselves, hoping to grasp a mere sliver of the lost knowledge that resided therein. The once holy place of the Sith had become little more than an empty graveyard, riddled with the husks of former glory days. Petrichor made his way across the desolate landscape of Korriban, looking to the ruins as he slowly approached. The wind swept through the barren valley, carrying the scent of imminent death upon its playful gale. It was almost as if the very planet was calling for blood... a quality that had been ever-present, perhaps even from the earliest days of this world. It always gave Petrichor reason to pause, as the uncertain nature of the planet made him feel as if danger were ever-present.

As he made his way closer to the Valley of the Dark Lords, Petrichor took a moment to feel through the Force, taking in the various signatures of those on the planet. Many had indeed shown their faces here, either to defend or destroy the planet upon which they all walked. As his mind moved further outward, Petrichor could sense the presence of his troops, preparing for battle in the distance with Jorel at the front. The Dark Heretic took comfort knowing that his former apprentice was in command. He was confident that they would see victory, though he was unsure of the cost. In the end, however... the cost mattered not. Though Petrichor did not wish to have any of his followers die, he knew... no... they all knew that a day would come when they would have to face the inevitable visage of death. All he could hope for, was that their goals would be met before they were all gone...

Petrichor sensed a change in the air as Ingrid L'lerim touched down on the surface. He didn't fully know her intentions, but he sensed an air of preservation about her. Perhaps she would be a valuable asset in the coming storm...

Jorel Kaan: Commander of the Petrite Host

Allies: Ashlan Crusade & allies

Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith, etc.

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave jacket

Jorel stood at the edge of the Valley of the Dark Lords, overlooking the dig that the Maw had taken the liberty of commandeering in the wake of the Sith Eternal's abrupt vacation of the planet. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at those that were responsible for the destruction of his home. Though he had spent many years training to calm the potentially unchecked rage of the darkness, his heart was still beating with the drums of war. No amount of Petrichor's teachings could bring him to feel calm knowing that so many of his people were gone; snuffed out as if they were mere vermin. He could not stand by while those that brought such death upon his home mindlessly slaved away at unearthing the last potential hidden secrets of bygone Sith. No...

Today would be his day of vengeance.

Jorel took a minute to survey the troops that had accompanied him to Korriban. The entirety of The Exalted had been called to fight, as did the bulk of the ever-effective Petritie Troopers. Even beyond their regular forces, Petrichor had called home the bulk of the Exerpts of the Order from across the galaxy, hoping to muster as many as they could in anticipation of the oncoming battle. Jorel could feel the energy among the ranks; a solemn, resolute purpose that permeated the very fiber of each individual that had arrived. Normally, it would have been enough to bring a smile to his face...

But not today.

Today would be a day of blood and revenge. Today, Jorel would take the price of all of those lost souls on Csilla, and he would take it from the flesh of those that had wrought devastation upon his people...

Today, there would be a reckoning.

He held his hand up, motioning for a pair of officers to come forward. Without a single glance to them, he only spoke three words...

"Move them out."

With that command, the forces of the Petrite Order began their march. There was no need for further instruction; their forces were well-trained, and well aware of the plan of attack. They began taking positions in various parts of the Valley, pushing forward to the inevitable call of war...

 

[Gnost Zym]

THE DARK BELOW
Darth Solipsis Maestus Pom Stych Tivé Dakrul
​

"Na-hah ur su ka-haat. Su ka haru aat."

Despite his low status the Baran Do outcast led the Dark Lord's grim choir in their ritual chanting. His gift of foresight was jealously coveted by the New Sith Order's higher echelons. Gnost could sense the Force move darkly through his surroundings. He could predict the flow of time's rivers. His insight so valued that his madness was tolerated. Zym stared into eternity and it broke the young Sith's mind a little more each time, eroding his psyche into fragments of itself.

"Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj."

Eyes flashed red under the kel dor's antiox mask. He could feel the conflict raging across this world and an absurd sense of nostalgia for the Sith Academy where Gnost was first exposed to Sith philosophy and fully embraced the darkside's power. It was time to let the past die. Kill it if he had to. Only when the prophecy which haunted his dreams was fulfilled could his shattered consciousness begin to reassemble itself into something truly powerful.

"Vexok savaka!" Zym gazed at the anointed one, "Visitors will be upon us soon. I will attempt to manipulate the threads of fate in your favor."

Easier said than done. Gnost could see far enough ahead that by altering variables he could sometimes alter outcomes. Of course it was impossible to know what effect his interference might have for better or worse. In attempting to divert future consequence Zym might just as easily create the proper conditions for disaster. He chanted louder in ur-Kittât. Ancient rituals uttered by fanatics echoed off unholy stone.

 

[Vector Monk]

VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
KORRIBAN
Starlin Rand

​

Vector's smirk widened into a grin when starlight reflected off the corrupted kyber crystal. It illuminated an ancient tapestry of the valley with an almost supernatural crimson glow.

"They're digging in the wrong place!"

Desert goggles rested comfortably upon Captain Monk's brow. His normally crisp Sith uniform was covered in a thin layer of gravedust. Even though he was no longer receiving orders from Dromund Kaas the Imperial Reclamation Service agent continued to serve. So much glorious history was being trampled here. Power struggles between the Sith Lords were to be expected, even sometimes encouraged, but these fanatical Ashla worshipers wanted to burn or destroy any piece of sacred culture they found! Such galling savagery.

Monk lifted himself up out of the lost wayfinder tomb by retracting a tow cable. Clamoring echoes of war rose to crescendo but he wasn't concerned with earning glory on the battlefield. Just a few hundred meters from the contested Maw dig site there might be the archaeological find of this century. He staggered over the dunes and light glinted off his monocular.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

​

To most, death was the end; their souls were shredded and dispersed throughout the Force.

To some, death was merely an inconvenience; they found their way back through sorceries and mysteries.​

To a select few, death became an opportunity for reach and influence beyond mortal ken.​

In the dark corners of Korriban, a world which itself was tainted with the scent of the dead and their memories, a select group of acolytes gathered. Firelight flickered, animating the faded murals on the sheer walls. A chant echoed between the walls, making their flesh thrum with volume and power. In the middle of their circle, a broken dais stood patched with empty supply crates, on which stood a single urn, filled to the brim with ashes.

One of the acolytes, a red-skinned twi'lek, gathered ashes from the urn and stirred it into a bowl of dark liquid resting in the nook of her arm. Upon contact with the ash, the dark liquid began to seethe and boil. She joined the chant, urging the others to sing it louder. They complied, falling deeper into the lull of the repetition.

The twi'lek held a brush of bone and human hair over the liquid and repeated the chant.

"Kraujas iw ri Rauswas- Urs iw ri Mnirmi- Shitita iw ri Rizûti- Ri Wini ana sianakt"

She dipped the brush into the liquid, and it stilled. With a flick of her wrist, she splattered it over one of the acolytes, then another, and another until the circle was complete.

"Kraujas iw ri Rauswas- Urs iw ri Mnirmi- Shitita iw ri Rizûti- Ri Wini ana sianakt"

She then moved to the urn and held the bowl high.

"Ri Wini ana sianakt!"

The liquid spilled over, pouring itself into the ashen urn. The twi'lek remained standing, eyes screwed close. The chamber and its chant fell to stillness.