Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

​

Location: Outer perimeter of Korriban system
Faction: Ashlan Crusade
Allies: Caarlyle Rausgeber Zark San Tekka - AC/NIO
Enemies: Tu'teggacha Darth Carnifex - TSE/MAW

Spoiler

Fleet composition
Noble Crusader Class Battlecruisers
Pillar of Retribution (Flagship)
Divine Purpose
Bane of Darkness (reserve)

Dragoon Class Battle carriers
Fist of Demici
Rapture
Holy Choir (reserve)

Templar class star destroyers
6 in primary fleet, 3 in reserve fleet

Bastion class planetary invasion ship
3 in reserve fleet

Nebula-ii class star destroyers
4 in primary fleet, 2 in reserve fleet

Dominion Class escort frigate
16 in primary fleet, 8 in reserve fleet
Principality class corvettes
16 in primary fleet, 8 in reserve fleet
Warden anti-starfighter frigates
6 in primary fleet

Hangar equipped vessels have full complements of following starfighters (50/50 split)
Pegasus interceptors
Phoenix multi-role starfighters

Isla Draellix, Grand Admiral of The Grand Fleet of Ashla watched as the swirling colours of hyperspace moved around her ship, from the bridge of the recently repaired Pillar of Retribution she could also see the hulking form of the Divine Purpose. The two battlecruisers were approximately 3 minutes ahead of the rest of the fleet and were to secure the hyperspace entry. This jump had been calculated precisely, the plan of the Ashlans was to arrive far out in the system near one of the old Sith defence platforms, intelligence said that the platforms were significantly under manned since the Sith empire collapsed and her ships could break them quickly. She did not choose this because the defence platforms were hugely important, but because destroying one would create a blindspot in the long range sensors of the enemy, which the rest of her fleet could then jump in to. It wouldn't hide them at all, but would make specifics information and targeting data a little harder as Isla assessed the in system situation.

"4....3....2....1" came the countdown as both the battlecruisers dropped out of hyperspace in flanking positions of the platform and immediately opened fire with full broadsides, hundreds of turbolasers, ion cannons, solar ionisation cannons sprung to life, with the two fusion accelerator cannons adding to the barrage. Return fire from the station was also significant, but her strategic planning team had advised her that her ships could sustain the firepower for long enough to get the job done.

As her ships fired she turned to look at the holo display, filling with enemy ships as the detection radius expanded across the system like a wave... There it was, the Fatalis, she knew that the Maw had decided to interfere with the Ashlan plans for Korriban, and she had been informed that at least one of their infamous star dreadnaughts was in attendance. The numbers flashing up next to its symbol on the holo were awe inspiring, she could respect that sort of firepower. She had not had dealing with its admiral though, but what little information she did have told her he wasn't to be underestimated.

"Bring up everything we have on the Ebruchi" she commanded to her intelligence officer, data quickly flashed up on the screen, not enough really to help, but having it to hand would be useful "Tu-cha, Tu-techa, Tu-teggacha" she pronounced it to herself, wanting to be ready if he made contact.

A bright flash filled the room as one of the reactors of the defensive station detonated, sending the whole station into a spin, it began breaking apart flinging debris in all directions. The incoming firepower had stopped and the Ashlan entry had been made. Seconds later, bang on schedule, her entire primary fleet arrived in the system, filling the space around the two battlecruisers with dozens more ships.


Isla stood in front of the Holo-recorder and spoke, broadcasting on all available frequencies

​

"This is Isla Draellix of the Grand Fleet of Ashla, Minister of the Ashlan Crusade, Bringer of the Cleansing light of Ashla. To all civilians still in system, this is your only warning to leave the space immediately if capable, if you are not capable of leaving, then I suggest you hide, the window of safe passage is closing.

To all Sith and other Bogan, including those of the Maw, return to your own space in the Outer Regions or face destruction at the hands of my fleet and her allies.

The Ashlan Crusade is come and soon the dark taint shall be washed away from the cursed place once and for all, nobody shall stand in our way."

 

[KV-6000]

Location: Gunnery Crew Station, Gun Decks - Eternal Rule
Weapons: Octuple Barbette AI-MD “Gnoma” Mass Drivers - Upper Prow
Call Sign: Shen Seven
Personal Equipment: DS-101 “Venture” Multipurpose Protective Attire (X) │ SIF-57s │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
Side: Defenders
Dark: TK ( Darth Carnifex ) │ BoTM ( Tu'teggacha )
Light: AC ( Isla Draellix-Kobitana ) │ NIO (Fiolette Fortan Caarlyle Rausgeber ) │ GA ( Zark San Tekka )

Whispers in hushed ghoul-speak permeated throughout the gun decks of the Eternal Rule, strand-casts speaking only as loud as necessary to convey information over the mild din of machinery and weaponry, and not a decibel more. Efficiency, discipline, and precision were considered to be paramount in the operations of Shadow Fleet, of which the Eternal Rule was the undisputed embodiment, if not for the vessel’s status as the flagship of the Dardirotikdor, but for its crew. While partly composed of the most veteran personnel in the fleet, typically serving as officers, there were also strand-casts in the enlisted ranks who knew nothing but the turadium-plated walls of the Eternal Rule’s interior, having been synthesized and born in the exowomb laboratories within the depths of the vessel, created to serve and die in His name.

KV-6000 was one of those thousands of strand-casts created aboard the Eternal Rule. As such, it went without saying that in spite of the vessel’s austere passageways and cold walls, the vessel was home for her, the crew, her family, and the unknowable, yet divine figure hidden within the reaches of the vessel of which she was not allowed to even approach, her God.

Now, she had been called to serve, culminating endless hours of drills, exercises, and flash-training procedures. The gun decks were a familiar area for her, a place which she knew by instinct, though many of the technical details yet still eluded her. Nevertheless, honed intuition took over for the diminutive Morellian as she lowered herself into the gunner’s seat, which was situated below the massive octuple barbette mass driver battery she was charged with aiming and firing, protected beneath layers of armor, machinery and electronics. Then, she plugged into the console, inserting a plug into the discreet interface on the back of her neck, thereby linking her senses with the gun’s targeting software and the hyper-intelligent artificial consciousness of the AQUILA.

“Battery S7 is linked and guns are loaded. All systems nominal and online.” KV-6000’s ghoul-speak was soft as she processed the stream of data entering her awareness, only just loud enough to carry over comms and no more.

“Copy that, S7. We are moving into optimal range. Await further instruction.” The voice at the other end answered.

“Understood.” The Morellian gunner cut off the channel before moving through the last of her pre-firing routines, calibrating targeting systems and yet more, processing information at speeds far beyond that of what an unaugmented individual was capable of, a nigh-necessity given the innumerable factors which could affect the accuracy of her weapons within the void of space, especially at ranges beyond visual.

Once that was completed, all that was left for the strand-cast to do was wait and watch as the Eternal Rule slowly closed in on the enemy fleet...

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 1
Objective: Ragnarök
Equipment: Mind Crown | Black MidNight Duster with Hood | Echani shield suit | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Defender | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | x2 FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X4 Daggers | Pack of Death sticks | Various Explosives on person and in backpack | Holopad
Allies: The Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Ashlan Crusade
Special Tags: Open

---

Tegan stood before the entrance of a tomb far from the valley. The tomb was little more then a dirt mound and it outdated oldest temple in the valley by many years. The tomb though was not that of some Dark Lord or even that of a well know Sith in the chronicles of Sith Gods. Being so far from the rest and in the middle of a treacherous desert no one would have ever found it out here considering it just sort of blended in with the other red sand and dune hills. No one had to know it existed to even find it.


Long sharp black nails filled to points on the tips of fingers reached up and slipped the hood from Tegan’s head revealing her painted face. Her eyes opened slowly her orange eyes flashed energetically as it staired at the entrance to the tomb that looked like nothing more then a sand dune to the untrained eye. Written on the entrance only to those that were worthy or able to see through the force was an inscription written in the ancient sith language.

The one that lies here is a slave, heretic, betrayer of the faith. Darth Sokar the psychotic heathen and self-proclaimed sith’ari.​

The inscription brought a smirk to Tegan’s painted face. It was funny her the name had all but been erased from the past, this little dirt mound in the middle of no where was all that remained. All that remained of Darth Sokar’s Sith legacy, Tegans Sith Legacy. If the whispers of the dark were to come true and this world would see it’s last moments soon and this might be the last time, she would be able to see the tomb of where her first body was buried.


Tegan reached out her hand focused as the wind began to rise and the sand began to shift away revealing a stone slab that was the door to the tomb. Nothing was inside worth taking except her bones and that is what she came to get that which remained of her first self her true self one might say. Still, it held value to Tegan even if the Maw would never understand or anyone else for that matter. Everyone thought she was crazy when she said she was ancient. She had been buried on this world well before the fallen Jedi even stepped foot on it and declared themselves Gods.

 

[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… ] ​

It soon became certain that she was not alone. The place now looked better than after the GA attack, the Worm Emperor and their men seemed to have repaired the damage somewhat. She sensed several other people; neutrality had its advantages because there is a good chance that neither side will hurt you. In fact, she trusted that everyone would leave her alone and be able to do her own things. Ingrid expected not to find too many relics and artefacts here, most recently they had taken a lot of things with Adrian.

Actually, she didn’t really expect to find anything here, the other task was more important. In captivity, she wasted more than a year doing nothing. She could only produce theories on how to proceed in Adrian's case. As she arrived on the planet, she felt exactly that Caarlyle Rausgeber , the Regent Admiral, was also here around the planet; of course where else? She had an unfinished case with him. She would have been really curious about the man's face when he found out that Ingrid did not died on the NIV Confidence, but survived his attempts, and as a result, she knew information about the man, in which the man wanted to betray the NIO when he wanted to release or kill her. But no, the time has not yet come; the Empress was patient…

The red-haired woman saw a man in armour and a mask; as the man had not been hostile so far, so the woman did not make any threatening gesture either. Ingrid was completely neutral in the Force, hiding her presence, plus even her necklace did the same thing, Adrian's soulshard was in that jewellery. She knew where she was going, to the tomb where she had previously protected Adrian, where her husband was speaking with Avernus 's ghost. Ingrid secretly hoped the Force Ghost was still there and she could talk to him too. Maybe he could help the woman with something.

Heading for the tomb, she came close to the unknown man, still not attacking, just addressing the other:

"I didn't come to fight, I don't care which side you represent, until you not try to stop me from being here and doing my task, you can do what you want, I don't care…" she said in her usual cold and military voice.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: The Fatalis, High Orbit over Korriban
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Darth Carnifex | KV-6000
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Fiolette Fortan | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Zark San Tekka

The first fleet to jump into the system turned out not to be the Ashlan Crusade at all; rather it was the Galidraani, the most dogged pursuers and foes of the Maw. Tu'teggacha supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. While the Ashlans were no doubt eager to cleanse Korriban in the name of their religion, the New Imperial Order would come primarily for the Brotherhood, with whom they were locked in a life or death struggle for the galaxy's northern fringe. Wiping out the heritage of the Sith, whom they had just finally defeated in their long series of civil wars, would likely be more of a pleasurable bonus.

But perhaps he overestimated the Maw's worth in the NIO's eyes.

Behind the Galidraani command ship came the bulk of the NIO fleet, led by the NIV Tregessar. It was a fearsome force, well-known for its prowess in battling the Sith Empire in their long series of conflicts. Tank groups won engagements, artillery detachments won battles, but the NIO fleet won wars. For the moment they were holding back, surveying the battlefield, but Tu'teggacha had no doubt that they would move in at the opportune moment, striking down with great vengeance and furious anger upon the destroyers of Csilla. The Brotherhood's own fleet would have to fight hard to come close to matching them.

The Taskmaster did not perceive the arrival of the stealthy Jedi assassins.

Indeed, even had they not cleverly used the layout of the system and the power of the Force to mask their presence, the Alliance strike team would likely have escaped his attention... simply because the fleet of the Ashlan Crusade had arrived. Tu'teggacha's facial tendrils wriggled in furious panic as sensor contact after sensor contact emerged from hyperspace, filling the entirety of the screen. Some fifty Ashlan starships were cruising in toward Korriban, already in attack formation. The enemy capital ships outnumbered his own Star Destroyers four to one, the full bulk of the fleet outnumbering his vessels more than five to one.

The defensive platform they'd targeted didn't stand an instant's chance.

Tu'teggacha swallowed hard, the wet squelching sound echoing around the bridge. How had the Crusade, limited to a bare handful of frontier planets at the very edge of the galaxy, managed to produce such a huge fleet of Star Destroyers, let alone so many support vessels? Most of the planets they had claimed were untamed wilderness, and not a single one of them was the site of a major shipyard. The full production of Osseriton and the secret shipyards of the Deep Core could not match such massive scale. Despite the strength of the Fatalis, Tu'teggacha and the Brotherhood warfleet would stand no chance against such numbers.

Should he run, then? Should he flee to hyperspace, as the Ashlans demanded?

The Taskmaster could not, of course. He might consider leaving the Brotherhood's slaves and marauders stranded on Korriban's surface, but the Dark Voice himself was down there, and that was not a loss the Maw could afford. Without the iron will of Darth Solipsis to guide them, the warlords would fall to infighting, all seeking to claim the obsidian throne of Exegol. Tu'teggacha could not allow that to happen; there was still too much suffering to feast upon, suffering that would only be inflicted if the Brotherhood continued its dark crusade across the galaxy. But what was he to do, then? What could he possibly hope for?

"Put out the call for reinforcements," the Taskmaster ordered sharply, "and divert power to shields. We must hold until our allies arrive." A distress call went out to the CETCOM and their Maw Irregular Fleet, secretly masterminded by Marlon Sularen . Another went out to Derix Tirall and his fanatical Final Dawn forces. All other fleet-based allies of the Maw were also summoned to the fight. At times like these, Tu'teggacha bitterly missed the presence of the Athysians and of Talon Kyber's pirate fleet, but they had not been seen in some time. All that he had summoned might still not be enough.

He was loathe to interrupt the Dark Voice's ritual, but there was no choice.

Opening himself to the Force, the Taskmaster reached out, his telepathic message traveling down to the mind of Solipsis on the planet below. "My Lord," he said, making no attempt to hide the emotions of fear and rage that swirled through his own consciousness, "the Ashlans have arrived in overwhelming numbers, and the New Imperial Order as well. We do not have the strength to hold them back with the fleet we have brought. I have called out for our allies, but I fear that they will not be enough. Even with the strength of Tirall and Sularen added to our own, the Ashlans may well crush us."

He forged ahead. "We have no other option: we must deploy the weapon."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

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

 

[Mikhail Grayson]

Three years.

It had been three years since the start of his journey, since that fateful reunion with his uncle Cedric Grayson . Three years since they fought side by side over the besieged world of Crakull where the Brotherhood ravaged the Croke capital of Alkonost and laid waste to their industrial might. Their fateful sojourn into the Holy City of Gehinnom that hung over the planet like a grim omen had molded him, introduced him to horrors that were only depicted in bad dreams. Now they were here again, they had escaped the Unknown Regions and begun their vile infection of the galaxy.

They would find he was not the boy they remembered.. he was now a Jedi.

The training was hard, grueling and the campaigns long and cruel. The Sith had been put to the torch in the final days of the Third Imperial Civil War and this was to be the final cleanup operation. That is.. until the Brotherhood came. The long dormant foe the Ashlans had prepared for, that his uncle had prepared HIM for. He could feel the call shifting into his thoughts, there was something unspeakably wrong going on within the Academy. Something vile, something unnatural.

As the drop ship touched down, the now fully matured Grayson stepped onto the barren rock facing the Mawite Hordes and their innumerable slaves. He reached for his belt and unclipped his lightsaber, it sprung to life with a sharp hiss as he rose it over his head high for the rest of the Ashlan forces.

“For Ession! For the Ashla!”

And so he began his charge.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Allies: None
Enemies: Likely everyone
Objective: Convince the Acolytes to flee
Tags: Darth Ophidia | Quinn Varanin

"It's alright now. I'm going to get you out of here. All of you." There were so many reasons why she shouldn't of come back. And yet, Alina was here. No sooner did she decide to leave the Sith behind did news travel. The Jedi were planning to annihilate the Sith from Korriban. Had it not been for the academy, she very well might of enjoyed watching such a stain be destroyed.

But she knew what remained. Her glowing gaze lingered on the youth of the academy. Those training to become Sith. She'd seen them a couple times in passing during her time there. At first, wide eyed and full of fear. She paid them no mind as she wandered the halls to her own lessons. Children that would be devoured and ground to dust in service of the Eternal. It was obvious in their eyes what they'd been through. Only three remained.

The largest, a Nautolan by the name of Shreyr Lugo, spoke first. Mistrust laced every word. "It's not alright. The Jedi are here to slaughter us. We can't escape."

"We were left behind to slow them down." Ezi Ziltusce, an Arkanian female, spoke in a voice full of despair. She sat huddled on herself, her pure white eyes staring blankly at the ground. The third and youngest of the trio was in no better place. Larunn Dyx, a small boy who was able to survive, stared up at the ceiling. A moment later it shook. The extermination had begun. Fight and survive, or die. That was the choice given to them. And none of them thought they'd survive.

Alina could only feel pity. These were the people she wanted to protect, but what had she done so far? Perhaps if she had- no. This wasn't the time to think like that. Instead she stood upright, forcing a smile. She would save who she could.

"It doesn't matter what your masters or whoever else might have wanted. We can and will get out of here. Now stand up, we've little time."

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Korriban, Mawite Excavations
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Tegan Starfall
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Darth Petrichor | Mikhail Grayson

The Mongrel smiled. His wish had been granted.

On the rocky slopes surrounding the Valley of the Dark Lords and the Mawite excavation beyond, a variety of enemy forces had begun to take shape. First - and most exciting to The Mongrel - were the Galidraani, or more specifically the Woads. The veteran marauder would have recognized their howling chants anywhere; that eerily beautiful language, now echoing through Korriban's shadowed valleys, had danced through his dreams since Csilla. Did that mean that Gowrie was here at last, that the two warriors might have their long-awaited meeting? The warleader hoped so.

He'd show that Gowrie's mercy had been a mistake.

Wildcat Battalion was still some distance away, separated from the Mawite position by the desperate Sith remnants who still clung to this dark place. But The Mongrel had faced both Gowrie and Barran, and he knew that the tactical mind of any Galidraani commander would already be engaging its formidable strategic processes. On Csilla and Ilum the Brotherhood had learned to fear the power of NIO artillery, and of a vast armored push to follow a rolling barrage. No doubt those positions were already being established, the big guns calculating trajectories toward the excavation mound.

Scout vehicles could already be seen moving around the edge of the dig, scouting for routes of attack. It wouldn't be long before heavier armor followed them, charging up the hill of rock and sand to engage the marauders. That part did not particularly concern The Mongrel. He had learned on Ilum that the only way to counter such a foe was to fall upon them with even greater momentum. Around the lip of the excavation, Kagan-Jin rough riders seized their power lances and mounted their orbaks, while the cyborgs of the Mawite deathgangs kicked the engines of their swoops into overdrive.

They were ready to meet the tanks in a clash of steel.

The artillery was a greater concern, as it always had been for the Maw. The warriors of the Brotherhood were fierce and deadly, but they were most effective in close combat, where their savagery and brute strength mattered more than technology or discipline. The Brotherhood simply lacked the long-range capabilities that had won battle after battle for the Galidraani, and for a long time had lacked an effective counter to them as well. But The Mongrel believed that disadvantage was about to be eliminated, not through imitation of enemy artillery, but through swift neutralization of it.

A trio of Tarantula-class Spider Cruisers rose up from the Brotherhood landing site, drifting slowly up and away from the targeting arc of the enemy artillery. The heavily-armored craft could operate in space, perhaps bolstering the terrifyingly outnumbered warfleet above, but that was not their goal. Instead they moved inexorably toward the developing Galidraani artillery positions, preparing to land behind them. The spider cruisers were unique, capable of unfolding from their starship configuration into arachnid-like walkers bristling with weapons. Their goal was simple: neutralize the artillery.

If they could land behind the foe and open fire, they would.

But it was not yet time for that grand plan, which would come at the same time as the great charge toward the Wildcat Battalion armor; it would have to wait until the two forces had nothing between them, and the battle could begin in earnest. For now, The Mongrel had other threats to react to. Crimson-armored Sith troopers were advancing from a different side, nearer the Valley of the Dark Lords, clearly preparing to storm the dig site. For a moment The Mongrel felt a surge of fear, remembering the deadly Kainate trooper UX-0626 who had taken both his arms on Enenpa. Had she returned?

But no. These were a different group of red-armored Sith.

"Ready the Tarar Warbands," the veteran warleader commanded. "Let them lay down a withering hail of plasma fire upon any who attempt to climb this hill." The scavenger-berserkers of the Tarar were ill-armored and ill-disciplined, but this was a kind of warfare they were well-suited for. Digging into rocky outcrops and sandy pits all along the excavation mound, their cover helping to negate the disadvantage of their light armor, they could fire down freely on those attempting to charge up the slope. Their plasma cannons and lightning guns would be devastating, even to armored troops.

Of course, there was another threat lurking among the crimson-armored soldiers of Darth Petrichor : sinister, dark-armored figures, each wielding a lightsaber. That was, as always, a problem; their sorcery and laser-swords were threats to which most marauders had no counter. Fortunately, among the ranks of the Maw were Heathen War Shamans, wielders of dark power all their own. Though the source of their power was the same as that of the Exalted, they were a stark contrast: unarmored, nearly naked, protected only by their sorcery and ferocity... and the dread blades they wielded.

Kyber shards seized in the raid on Ilum powered those blades.

It might not be enough to hold back these strange Petrite champions, but The Mongrel would react to that possibility as it arose. He had no choice, for a third threat had arisen: the Ashlan Crusade's ground forces had arrived, with Mikhail Grayson leading the attack. The crusaders did not seem to be employing any strategy in particular beyond an immediate charge toward the dig site. The Mongrel smiled; foolish of them. They would have to charge uphill, without any cover on the barren, rocky slopes. Of the three threats, this one was the most straightforward, and thus the easiest to counter.

"Call up the Legion of the Leech," the marauder warleader ordered, and the sinister lugubraa came forth at his command. These veteran mercenaries had served across countless worlds, their alien biology enabling them to withstand conditions no human could. The wormlike creatures slither-walked to the edge of the excavation and spun up their heavy-repeating slugthrowers, weapons with terrifying rates of fire. The hill that the crusaders were charging up became a storm of metal slugs, the air thick with flying lead. Hopefully that would discourage their headlong advance, Jedi or no.

The Mongrel turned back to the center of the dig, counting his remaining forces. With three foes striving to crush them, they were now virtually encircled, with no line of retreat save their transports - transports that, midway through loading artifacts, could not possibly evacuate them all. The bulk of the defense force now faced the simple choice of victory or death. There was only one unit The Mongrel had held in reserve so far, in case one of the three fronts faltered and was driven back up the hill: the barbaric Cirihut Warriors, shock troops and close combat masters, the final line of defense.

If the battle reached them, it had become a desperate melee.

"Come on, then!" The Mongrel screamed out over the surrounding valley, his mask amplifying his booming voice. "We serve the Maw, the end of all things, and we KNOW... NO... FEAR!" The veteran marauder raised his scattergun over his head, his cyborg frame silhouetted against the dying planet's distant sun, and took up the familiar chant of the Mawite religion. "War! Death! Rebirth!" A thousand throats and more echoed his words, stomping and beating their weapons against their breastplates, until the sands shook and the ruins rumbled with the force of their zealous fury.

Surrounded? Perfect. Now they could shoot in all directions.

 

[Caulder Dune]

// Location: Abandoned Sith Tomb - Vestibule
// Objective: Wouldn't You Like To Know?
// Equipment: Adekon Nanogene - Type 1, Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi Armor (but, you know, more stylish)
// Associated Acts: Darth Orcus (Friendly), Darth Voracitos (Neutral), + Whoever Else Wants to Drop By

Here was the legacy of the Sith: a dusty and crumbling ruin, clogged with the detritus and equipment of hastily abandoned archaeology. It was poetry, in a way. Bad poetry.​

​

The entire tomb shuddered from the din of the battle that raged around it, reaching even the lowest levels. Dust disgorged in airy clumps from the ceiling. Darth Adekos frowned imperiously at this phenomenon, reaching into within an interior breast pocket and withdrawing a silken handkerchief. He snapped it in the air to unfurl it and then, with dignity and grace, held it to his nose.​

​

And sneezed.​

​

Whose tomb was this, anyway? He had not bothered to check. Someone heinous but forgettable, no doubt. All the ancient Sith blended together into one homogenous blob of violent incompetence. It was hardly worth the trouble of telling them apart.​

​

Much like the Maw Brotherhood and the Crusaders. He found both so similarly repugnant that he could not bothered to ideologically distinguish them. Neither conducted themselves as civilized persons and so the exact context of their struggles was entirely beneath him.​

​

What they would reap on Korriban, however, was not.​

​

Another tremor, but less dust this time. Adekos blithely returned the handkerchief to its pocket, just as a dark protocol droid waddled delicately into the room, coated with a thin film of dust but otherwise unperturbed.​

​

It bowed politely before speaking. “The Reliquary is active and ready, Lord Adekos.”​

​

“Marvelous,” he said, without sounding particularly marveled. He inspected his fingernails. “And where is Lord Orcus?”​

​

“Lord Orcus was inspecting the device. I believe he will be along shortly.”​

​

At least someone found his work interesting. The minions of Darth Voracitos, entrenched a few corridors down, were too fixated with their sorcery to acknowledge the true science. Likewise, such arcane superstition held little appeal to Adekos.​

​

Fine by him. As long as they left his droids and his equipment alone, they could do whatever they wished. Even if it was weird and tasteless, as so many Sith ‘rituals’ were these days.​

​

The Umbaran sighed wistfully and dismissed the droid with a wave of his hand. “You can get back to work.”​

​

The droid bowed politely and left the way it came, back into the deeper recesses of the tomb.​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The doors slid apart, pulled aside on magnetic rails, revealing the looming form of Darth Carnifex to the crew of the bridge. He was flanked by the same guards that had been watching over him down below, their grim countenance concealed by crescent red plastoid helmets. In their hands, they gripped concussion lances with broadsabers strapped to their hips as well. Not once had they yet been forced to draw those sabers from their sheath, for none had withstood the immense power of their lances to get to that point. They regarded all who were not their Lord with mistrust and suspicion, tensing whenever anyone else drew within a certain perimeter around him.

Ahead was a long walkway flanked by deep data pits, the toil of strand-casts and cy-techs a low white noise backdrop to the idle conversation of the offices above the pits. On the far wall opposite the Dark Lord was a massive viewport, stretching all along the bridge tower to reveal the full breadth of the ship around them. The lights on the bridge were kept at a permanent red dim, a protocol put in place to aid the gunnery crews as they switched back and forth between targeting scopes and visual scanning. The gunner stations elsewhere on the vessel obeyed the same edicts, their stations awash in a permanent red gloom as they went about their duties.

Carnifex walked from the doorway to the center of the bridge, his presence sending a cascade of religious fervor across the crew as many of them, those not slaved to the ship's systems, recited prayers and clutched idols to the greatness of their living god. The strand-casts performed this action on a more regular basis than those who had been born to mothers and fathers, for all they had ever known was his voice in their mind from the moment they could achieve consciousness within their exo-wombs. In time, the strand-casts would completely replace the organic officers and soldiers of the Kainate, the Dark Lord never again needing to rely on the children of the Celestials for his ambitions.

"More fleets have come, Supreme Excellency. Galidraani and New Imperial." Though the officer enlarged the image on the holoscreen, the Dark Lord of the Sith did not require it. He could peer out through the tinted viewports and spot the individual ships with his own sight, noting each one in perfect detail as they pirouetted through the vastness of space. "The Mawite fleet appears to be outnumbered, shall we move to assist?"

"In time," replied the Dark Lord, "Increase pitch to thirty degrees, roll port to twenty degrees. Inform port ventral missile bays to fire a salvo of baradium warheads between point-seven and point-fourteen. We have guests coming to visit." The Eternal Rule maneuvered as instructed by the Dark Lord, the ventral hull of the battlecruiser rising to reveal its pair of destructive autocannons and other weapon systems. Instead of using those, however, the Dark Lord had commanded a brief missile salvo to be launched towards the space around one of Korriban's moons. Accompanying the missiles were the rest of the Eternal Rule's fighter screen, moving to now intercept the X-Wings that had been launched to engage them.

Chasianna | KV-6000 | Zark San Tekka ​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Objective II : Rising Resistance
Location: On board of the Pride of Anaxes​

Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope

Allies: Ashlan Crusade | NIO | Galactic Alliance | SJC/CIS/EE
Ennemies : Brotherhood of the Maw | Sith

Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 composition:​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes (flagship)​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Captain Albrecht Herlock​
X102 Audacious​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander Julius E. Mannerheim​
X103 Courageous​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander James Halsey​
CV-2 Tonnant​	Tonnant-class fleet carrier​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Erika Richthofen​
Silencieux​	Stealth Corvette Silencieux​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew

"Sir, coming oiut of hyperspace right now !"

"Alright. Get us in low orbit. We will show to these Sith that we can do as much damage as they did on Csilla."

"Aye Sir !"

"Open a link towards our ships."

"You can talk sir."

"To all Task Force 58 ships, this the Pride of Anaxes. Take battle line formation. Silencieux, engage your cloaking device. Tonnant, launch all your bombers and fighters. It's time for payback !"

The small fleet formed a line, with the Silencieux at the front, cloaked, and the Tonnant at the middle, launching her fighters. They came to a low orbit, near the atmosphere of the planet. As Herlock said, it was payback time. It was a way for him to get revenge on the Brotherhood and the Sith for what they did to Csilla a few time ago. If some of them wanted to board the Pride, he would be ready to face them, his sword in his hand, even if he wouldn't stand a chance against a Force user.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Side: Destroy Korriban, Kill Everyone
Allies: Darth Carnifex Caulder Dune Darth Orcus
Enemies: Literally anyone who would destroy Korriban before Voracitos, and anyone who would try to stop its destruction

"Young Jon, why have you destroyed this Holocron I have gifted to you? Have you any idea its value?" Darth Colapsus spoke holding the remains of the device, to his son Jonathan Boke. The young, slightly portly sorcerer-in-the-making feasted upon Tuk'ata steak, as a tome floated in front of his head.

"I know exactly its value. I absorbed the material, it is worthless now." His eyes did not break from the tome before him, as he felt the simmering power of his father behind him.

"Worthless?" Darth Colapsus breathed, "My father, Darth Durablis had crafted it at the height of his power, a Sith Lord who, may I remind you, constructed his power and infamy from worthless beginnings. I seized his power and made it my own, as I expected you to do with this gift, to surpass me. Our history is powerful, and you have desecrated it. Why would you destroy the original source of our family's power?"

"As I told you, I absorbed the material. It taught me what it needed to, and now it needn't teach anyone else. It is history, and I am the future. Whatever echoes of the past that exist should only exist as long as it takes for the future to come. If the knowledge contained within was useful, then I shall one day create my own Holocron with more knowledge than the last. Surely, you recognize this as the destroyer of Grandfather's legacy?"

Darth Colapsus smiled, and then issued a test of his son's growing might to ensure the lesson had been thoroughly absorbed...

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The reveries in the Fruits of Gluttony were inherently indistinguishable from reality, even when one was aware of its power; even as its divine creator. Voracitos could not ascertain if the "memory" he had just experienced was real, or had been warped by his own present perspective as a being totally devoid of material mortality. The Voracitos he had become in his kingdom by his own name, nestled deep in some unexplored void of Chaos, was different beyond all recognition from the boy who would be a Sith Lord of immense size.

Those memories were no less than two lifetimes ago, perhaps many hundreds more given the fluidity of time and presence in the Netherworld. For many years his sense of identity had been thoroughly tested after gorging upon thousands of souls and identities, so much so he had crafted a cult of personality which subsisted upon lending "Nethermantic Magics" to otherwise talentless desperate individuals. It lessened the burden upon the mortal form granted to him by the grace of Akala's Crisis. A corruption had entered him upon a duel on Dromund Kaas, where Kaine Zambrano had defeated him by trapping him in a boil of Voracitos' own alchemical power. It took many years before he was freed, and many more until the Battle of Rhen Var had caused his full transformation to complete.

It was easy to assume that with continuity of consciousness that Voracitos and Darth Voracitos were the same beings, a man born on Korriban who ascended in power that died and returned from death before his body was irreversibly altered into the monstrosity he was now. Yet, this was not completely the case. For decades, the soul and body of that original man, Jonathan Boke, had been so fully twisted and distorted, that his flesh and thoughts had become the essence of an idea made manifest. Transcendental Gluttony beyond all measure and comprehension.

As the idea of Voracitos withdrew deep into his domain within Chaos, the tendrils of power he left behind tethered themselves to the souls in conflict along the Tingle Arm, subsisting on the deaths of the Third Imperial Civil War, feasting upon the energies of conflict and betrayal itself. Souls which ought to have disappeared into the force were ripped from their mortal coils and made denizens of Voracitos. The collection of souls and identities within Voracitos quickly became uncountable, unthinkable.

Csilla had re-awakened this monstrous idea to the possibilities, and re-opened pathways into undeath not seen since the Akala Crises, giving rise to abhorrent opportunities the gluttony of Voracitos would exploit. If the Jedi believed that the force was the binding energy between all livings things, and the dark side the perversion of life... Voracitos had founded its antithesis, a binding energy between all dead things, and its dark side the perversion of death. Voracitos would not allow the Jedi or any creature to pervert the symbol of death Korriban had become, by destroying it himself and subsisting upon the souls to be lost and freed by the tomb worlds sundering.

Death was good.

Life was evil.

Souls were the currency traded between the two, and Voracitos on this day and all days forward, would become their broker...

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​

In the looted tomb of Emperor Voracitos the First, the still rotting mummified corpse of his Imperial Corpulence was left bare and open to the arid cold stench of Korriban. The riches stored there long since lost, reclaimed, and then disbursed willfully, but the body otherwise undisturbed. An assassinated political figure held no honor in his burial, and as if to defend his mortal earnings to the last breath, the corpse seemed to continue to rot in spite of the time it found itself gripped by death. Its pungent odor the only defense against tomb raiders, though not strong enough to deter them, it seemed some small portion of the stink had followed them ever since. The leering gaze of a greedy gluttonous man who coveted his belongings above all else, even beyond the grave.

A row of teeth punctured the odored air, followed by a second set before they slammed down into each other, ripping reality as they went. Beyond the hole they had created, a floating monstrous creature climbed through the tear, its mouthed stomach heralding its arrival with a satisfying growl. Soon, the single eye of the horned being gazed upon all of Korriban as the true form of Voracitos itself arrived in the tomb of its original predecessor. The opening to hell behind Voracitos closed slowly, like a whimpering dog cowering back to its cage, reality reassumed its form.

"Ah," The head-mouth of Voracitos opened, "My oldest friend, how they have disrespected your death. You have persisted well despite reality, but know your efforts were not in vain. The hour has arrived where your assassination shall be completed, the visions you prophesized shall come to pass, and the place of your birth shall be sent to the depths of hell, as it was always meant to."

Magic coursed through its claw and meandered into the bloated, rotted, mummified corpse. Animated spirits clung to the body from the inside and from the outside, the dust of Korriban being drawn into the empty cavities. Power surged through the dead, and the few remaining chemicals that remained inside the corpse that locked it away from the touch of the force were purged. A glow permeated throughout the hulking body, and for the first time in decades the body of Jonathan Boke, The Third Emperor of the Sith Empire, rose.

"Caaaaaah," The memory of Jonathan Boke pushed air through his desicated mouth, "Caaahn.... Thissss.... Beee?" He finally spoke his first words since death.

Voracitos smiled with both mouths.

"Just as you saw so many years ago. Fulfill the destiny you foretold in your dark corridors Shadow Emperor, and destroy the past. Destroy, Korriban." With a single hand, Voracitos turned towards the entrance of the tomb obstructed by other catacombs, ruins, and debris, re-opened the tear in reality with a claw. From within this new tear, the hands of his servant the Lady Envy pushed out The Soul Star, and willed the Iris of Ligier to open.

In mere moments the small tear in reality became a vacuous hole to the undead sun of Chaos, the rays of Ligier seepings its malevolence into the material plane and summoning this piece of the living world into its domain. Feeling her strength weaken, Voracitos willed her to close it, and her trembling hands withdrew into Voracitos once more. The tear closed, and before them, an open void in the landscape now existed. The cold light of Korriban's sun illuminated the previously dark cavern now open to the sky.

Voracitos seemed to contort inside out from the huge maw on his stomach and disappeared from view, as an echo of his deep past lumbered out into the tomb world desert, to exact punishment on the defilers of this world, on behalf of his future self.

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
Approaching Tombs: Seeking out hiding Sith remnants
Caligula | Ahrris | Akkar | Ana Malixar | Khamul Kryze | Darth Vird | Darth Vindictus | Astrea | Darth Interitus | Darth Mori​

His cruel voice washed over the comms, a harsh tone brimming with hatred scrambled under the mechanical drum of the vocabulator.

“They hid from our wrath, now they fester like rats. Let us finish these rodents once and for all, their time has come. Korriban’s time has come.”​

A heavy boot kicked up a wave of sand and debris as it came down upon the barren land. A sharp hiss rolled out as a crimson beam ignited before him, crackling as he stood tall with eyes focused on what laid before him.

The entrance to the tomb was open with clear signs of recent occupancy. The Sith Assassin scoffed aloud and entered, ready to hunt down the final remnants of a dead order. It was only their vanity that they clung to now, the New Sith Order had taken everything else. If they would not join and submit to the new truth the. They would be destroyed. The Sith were dead, long live the Sith.

 

[Kal]

INDEPENDENT DEFENDER; AUXILIARY EXCAVATION SITE; OPPOSITION - Viers Connory​

What a mess. Fanatical crusaders and raving lunatics clashing over an arid tomb world with minimal strategic significance. Truly, ideology made their kind behave in the strangest of ways. On paper, he was here to scrounge up what little of worth or value remained in the thoroughly combed wastes, but the truth was more complicated. There was something wrong about this whole thing, a lingering sense of unease.

He had yet to puzzle out the why or even the what, but something was happening. Something deeply concerning.

The smaller, secondary excavation was some distance from the burgeoning confrontation in and around the Valley of the Dark Lords. Safe, sort of. The Sith Eternal had been digging for something, the Mawites had taken that as reason enough to seize it, and now it had changed hands again.

The small group of marauders that had held the site were dead in a ditch, their more plentiful slaves stunned and dragged into shuttles by a group of Grey Ones while others continued the excavation. If everything went according to plan, the dig would be productive and the now-former slaves would wake up on a safe world somewhere, unaware of who freed them from bondage, unable to share secrets that were not theirs to tell.

Truth be told, Kal very much doubted things would go according to plan. The situation was too volatile by far.​

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Location: Outer perimeter of Korriban system, coming out of hyperspace at full burn
Objective: Objective 3
Faction: SJC sponsored independent
Ship: The "Tortured Rebirth", A Modified Dragonboat class freighter
Allies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Fiolette Fortan, Tristan Evore - AC/NIO
Enemies: - Darth Carnifex - TSE/MAW​

Theme:
As soon as the "Tortured Rebirth" exited hyperspace, Omen could tell the party was on. The Maw and Ashlan crusades fleets were waiting for the other fleet to push into shooting range for the battle to really start in earnest. The Clone quickly buckled himself in and pushed his engines to full sublight before starting the music selection for today's fight, lots of war chants and heavy metal. The panicked requests of the Crusade's flagship started to come in as some junior officer tried to order/pled the small little freighter to back off. "Unidentifed craft, you are entering an active combat zone..." The Clone's response quickly cut them off "Oh shove a stick up your butt and raise up more crucifixes you hut'uun." He quickly shut the comm channel off, not wanting to hear the reply. He wasn't here to support the Crusade, he was here to witness the final destruction of the Sith, the people who had ordered and made him, lead him further and further into the darkness and coated this galaxy in darkness. The ARC was going to bring some small speck of hope and happiness to this galaxy whether it wanted it or not. And if it involved his death, so be it. Plus he was bored and he couldn't do something with the SJC right at this moment, he might as well knock holes into the sith in the meantime.

The "Rebirth" quickly maneuvered its way to the rear of the Allied fleet, launching its complement of Gnat drone fighters. As soon as the “Rebirth” zoomed past the bridge of the AC’s flagship “Pillar of Retribution”, Omen spied objects coming at the Allied fleet from around one of Korriban’s dead moons. What were those things, they weren’t fighters… They were torpedoes on a direct collision course with squadrons of Allied X-wings! Well, it was time to act. He quickly pushed his ship to full burn, turning across the big ship's bow and put on his favorite heavy metal song, listening to the words blast into his helmet. It was time to dance the night away in a swirl of fiery passion. The ARC only hoped he was on his feet by the end.

He quickly closed the distance on the missiles and their fighter escort and selected one missile with its pair of heavy droid fighters to slot in behind. The droid fighters, while looking tough, were surprisingly easy to take care of, with their rear armor breaking apart with relative ease. It seemed like they were trying to protect the missile at any cost. Soon enough, the missile’s core was broken into as well and the whole metal arrow exploded. Omen didn’t smile though as he moved into attack the next grouping, there were a lot of missiles left to go and not a lot of time to shoot them in.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Light glinted off a reflective surface somewhere in the corner of Starlin’s eye. He turned toward it, spotting a figure making their way across the dunes, away from the battle. Could be a non-combatant, could be somebody up to something… welp, better safe than sorry.

Starlin started after the figure, drifting away from the other soldiers and, unfortunately, from the lovely Isolda. Once he had cleared the crowds of crusaders and cultists, his feet left the ground and he flew the rest of the way, propelled by the Force, landing in front of the monocle-wearing gent.

“Hey,” Starlin greeted with a lopsided smile. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”

Tags: Vector Monk​

 

[Derix Tirall]

P O W E R

Operation: FINAL DAWN​

Brothers and Sisters

The voices of the gathered cultist fell to a hushed whisper as the visage of the High Regent washed over them. The men and women surrounding the command dais of the Avatar of War quickly fell to their knees, heads touching the cold metallic floor of the Throne Room. "Rise"

"The end is near" The voice of the hologram was calm and commanding, more so than he had ever been in his life. Under most circumstances, the stubborn Tirall would have preferred to see the destruction of Korriban personally, and likewise command the massive fleet gathered to protect the superweapon from the Vindicator, alas he would dare not risk it.

Once again, the nations of the galaxy sought to fight against something they themselves wished to prevail over. As if they truly cared about the well-being of the cause of their suffering. "Admiral" Dead blue eyes fell to the senior-most member of the Final Dawn Command Structure present. "I mustn't repeat the consequences of failure"

"The unworthy must be obliterated. Korriban must fall" A message considered holy by most of the Dark Cultist, the Admiral simply nodded, no less of a member of the Church himself. "Widespread opposition will be rooted in the armadas of the Ashlan Crusade" The group below the hologram hissed at the mention of the heretical light. "And the New Imperial Order"

"Crush them"

Fleet to be Detailed Once Engaged

Fiolette Fortan | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Marlon Sularen | Tu'teggacha | Albrecht F. Herlock | Others I Missed
​

 

[Crane Baxa]

The Catacombs
Korriban
Allies: Sith
Enemies: Everyone Else
Equipment: Twin Veshet Blaster Pistols, Gatecrasher Scattergun, Lightsaber (Blue)​

It has been a very long time since he had been to Korriban. One of the very few times he went to discover who his ancestors were though in this case, it was mainly all but pillaged and abandoned. Time however had passed in over eight hundred years, with new technology and new Sith being buried out in the hot desert and the cold catacombs. The time for death had come upon themselves once more...and it was only going to get worse. The air was changing, the Sith were dying out once again. Will they rise again? Most likely, it is inevitable but the genocide involved from both sides can only make the future much worse.

Crane had to leave his adopted daughter on a different world, not wishing to take care of her during this kind of mission. This was a private matter, one dealing with his own bloodline. Over the years, some of their own had been buried on Korriban and while the act of its destruction could slowly come together, the need to preserve what is left is all that now mattered. Pulling down the hood, he still could not get used to the tendrils on the side of his own head, feeling them different and new all at once.

Faintly, he can hear the fighting in the distance...but did not wish to go along with it. No, he had to go along the unbeaten path, the unexplored. He had to find the tomb of Kronos, the one made but never used as it was a hiding place for one of the dangerous artifacts his ancestors created, the Lorekeepers Scepter. Only recently did he learn that is where it now laid, behind ancient Sith Magick that hid its location for so long. Opening up the door to the side carefully, he walked forward carefully on guard, but ready to face his destiny.

 

[Tristan Evore]

Annhilation.

Korriban was a vile and barbaric world, a seat of darkness that harassed the galaxy for millennia. But today? Today, would be it's undoing. From the bridge of the battlecarrier Divinity, the former Grand Admiral Tristan Evore of the Zweihander Union stood with both arms folded onto his chest. His eyes remained locked on the emerging Ashlan Fleet transiting from hyperspace, blips of blue light breifly breaking the otherwise dull and black scene of glowing stars.

Here, he was home.

The Anzati was an anathema to everything he was raised to be. A devout follower of the light, who had only recently been tested by the godess, his insight into Korriban's fall had proven the greatest minds of the Crusade correct. If Korriban were to fall, the Sith would be ruined forever, and he intended for the world to be bathed in the cleansing light of the goddess.

"Inform the Minister of Defense of our arrival" He nodded to the Commander standing next to him. "We shall follow her orders to the tee"

Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Baddies ​

 

[Darth Vindictus]

In his travels, Darth Vindictus had never gone to the world of Korriban. He had explored the uncharted regions of the Unknown Regions, survived the perils of Wild Space, and fought his way across a thousand Outer Rim worlds. Yet, he had never set foot on the original birthplace of the Sith, the throne world long since lost and regained in an endless cycle of entropy. A Sith nation would rise, take Korriban back and enter a new age of Dark Side rule on the world, only to fall, lost, into the tomes of history. The Sith Empire of current times seemed to have, for a time, resisted that cycle of entropy, but as all things do, change has come.

Vindictus stood silently before the tomb, his senses exploring the corridors and chambers below without setting his own eyes upon them. His black and robes drifted idly in the breeze, the red, ember wreathed letters along its edges leaving hazy afterimages in the air around him. Extending his hand out before him, Vindictus took in the sand that lightly covered the black gloves he wore, running a thumb across his palm. The sand itself meant nothing, an insignificant part of a world dying, and yet it held value. unliving, uncaring and part of this world, the sand had seen more of the ancient history of the Sith than Vindictus would ever truly know, and while every Sith nation that had come and gone had fallen, the sand had remained. After this all ended, even that would be gone.

His senses finally detected that which he had been looking for, and the hooded man lifted his head to look into the depths of the tomb. The New Sith Order had decreed that all Old Sith, those who held to organizations other than the New Sith Order, were to be wiped out. They had come to Korriban, under assault from all sides not to defend the planet, but to finish the work they had begun when Darth Solipsis had claimed the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith. Countless bodies lay at the Orders feet, and after today, there would be yet more. This did not bother Vindictus, death was the way of the Sith, but given everything else going on, it seemed poor taste and timing.

He set out into the tomb, following his senses towards the individuals he had detected. There were other New Sith Order elements in and near the tomb, and Vindictus briefly sent a message to them addressing his location and direction. He paid them little focus though, focusing his mind on tracking down the immensely powerful presences he felt further inside the tomb. The presence he felt alone put doubt in Vindictus's mind of the New Sith Orders claim that the Old Sith were weak, needing of culling. The being Vindictus was approaching was of great power, stronger than many of his comrades in the New Sith Order. So the claim of weakness as a basis for extermination did necessarily hold true. He would still fight, still do what he must, but it was an interested chain of thought Vindictus put his mind to as he pushed ever onwards.

Tags: Darth Voracitos Lord Letifer @anyone interested.

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