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// Location: Abandoned Sith Tomb - Vestibule
// Objective: Wouldn't You Like To Know?
// Equipment: Greatsaber, Battle Armor
// Associated Acts: Caulder Dune
(Friendly), Darth VoracitosDarth Voracitos
(Neutral), + Whoever Else Wants to Drop By
Heavy footfalls thudded behind Adekos and a rich, impossibly deep voice spoke.
“Is it not ironic?”
The speaker paused, air rushing out the blowholes atop in a hauum.
“You slew Voracitos all those years ago. And now you help him rise once more. Remarkable,” chuckled Darth Orcus.
He wore a gleaming bronzed chest plate of Sith armor, with accompanying boots. Beneath which he wore black armor weave that encased most of his body. His onyx and alabaster features peeled wide in a chilling, toothy grin that seemed to split his face in half. Fathomless black eyes regarded his counterpart with a glitter of malevolent intelligence.
Idly, he lifted a flipper to his shoulder and adjusted the chains to which his black cape was fastened.
Isla plotted her next moves carefully, she watched as a solitary battlecruiser acclerated towards her positions before peeling off and releasing a barrage of missiles toward one of her allied fleets positioned over a nearby moon.
"Tristan Evore
, it is good to hear your voice, the battlecruiser at this position" she touched the Eternal Rule on the holo display which would relay to his bridge "it appears to have despatched its starfighter complement so I suggest it may be a good target for your battlecarrier. I have detached a pair of Templars to aid you, consider them fully under your command, the energy readings coming off that thing are extremely high so I am anticipating heavy armament"
She clicked on several more of her ships and sent orders to the captains to move, some of her escort frigates and one of her carriers would move to defend a small group of what looked like civilians vessels moving toward the edge of the system at a worryingly slow pace. "Keep your distance, we don't want to fall in to any traps today." She added.
"Captain, bring the Pillar, Divine Purpose and Rapture in toward the planet, we need to engage the Fatalis and its fleet."
She knew that the Fatalis likely outgunned any of her ships, but couldn't risk not following up on her bold demands. She had the ships but her crews were inexperienced and understrengthed. The worlds of the fledgling Ashlan territory had plentiful physical resources, but bodies were beginning to be stretched thinly.
It would take time for her ships to cross the void of space, even to reach extreme range, but she stood by her decision to enter battle out of engagement range to allow full assessment. She watched her display, the Maw fleets appeared to be remaining in defensive positions.
"Captain, I want two Templars with their broadsides at our stern, if that pirate shows up again, I dont want our engine arcs completely exposed."
She looked out the windows of her command bridge, now her ships moved past the destroyed defensive post, space looked quiet again, she would never get used to that unsettling feeling that out her window, millions of lives were fighting in space and on the ground, and all she could see was the pinpricks of light from distant planets.
<<"Fireteams in place, OPFOR spotted along with defensive positions, will move at command over.">>
<<"Noted, relay the coordinates to high command and send notice to Col Gowrie upon any further changes in the circumstance over.">>
<<"Copy that.">>
Placing his helmet back upon his head, Roland turned to signal for the rest of his men to move into position and well out of sight of any enemy bombers or reconnaissance devices. All bore red markings upon their midnight black armour; these men were the cream of the crop and the best fighters Galidraans army had to offer. Veteran soldiers of multiple campaigns and insurgent actions and picked from among the pre-existing regiments and divisions of the free state. These men and women were killers in every sense of the word. With an equally brutal selection process and training that weeded out the weak, these commandos were the Lord protectors answer to the brutality of the Maw. In order to enforce the units violent internal reputation in the military command, Lord Tal personally ordered for a quota of Mawite dead in the form of battle trophies to be counted each month. Previous operations had left the unit relatively unknown and invisible to the wider galaxy, as the sheer brutality of their raids and attacks led many to believe it the work of other Sith and criminal groups.
Roland grabbed his machete and gave it a few practice swings before sheathing it; he next grabbed his rifle from where it lay and loaded a mag up before turning the safety off and slinging it over his shoulder. Bringing up his commlink, he relayed further information to all fireteams on planetside.
<<"Orders came from the top, kill any and all Mawites you come across, retrieve any possible intel and make way to the selected evac point." >>
Objective: Assault the Sith Academy Allies: Forces of the Light Enemies: Forces of the Dark
It stood looming over the Valley of the Dark Lords... the academy. It was the place that for successive generations, thousands of years, the Sith had turned their ilk into their best. But no more. Now it was a shadow of its former self, brutalized by Alliance forces and plundered by the Warlords of the Sith.
The brutal sun scorched the crusaders as they marched, the building's shadow granting them only momentary reprieve before the aura of the dark side hit them. It was powerful. Some of the strongest Sith Lords in the galaxy, and their strongest followers, sheltered ahead. Before them, on the ramparts, the last meat on the bones of the Sith-Imperial army stood vigilant. Just behind them, the once grand Tomb of Ajunta Pall lay in ruins, a carrion picked clean in desperation by the Sith. The monument to the first Dark Lord of the Sith was behind them, and soon the last Dark Lord of the Sith would meet their blades.
Geiseric, at the head of his troops, called a halt. In unison the formation stopped its march, slamming boots on the hot red stone echoed across the canyon.
"My friends! My Brethren! We have come far, and it has not been easy. But we have seen the face of Ashla, and we know that her divinity graces each and every one of our blades! Some of you have even faced hell itself, and survived. Lord Grayson has led us to the day where after millennia of oppression... the Sith Order will finally be destroyed!"
The crusaders cheered, raising the hilts of their lightsabers and igniting them above their heads. A sea of blue washed over them... a sea of blades that represented the Light... that represented hope in the face of darkness and adversity. Every one of these Jedi would lay down their life here.
Turning back to the grandiose academy before them, He raised his own blade and let its azure light wash over his alabaster armour.
"FOR GRAYSON! FOR ESSION! FOR THE ASHLA!!"
And thus began the charge of the crusaders against the Korriban Academy. They would spare no morsel of mercy for the Sith. Every being in that temple would be cleansed, or they would be annihilated...
The Morai decanted from hyperspace on the edge of the Korriban system, positioning itself well behind the frontline formed by the fleets of the Ashlan Crusade and its allies. The Super Star Defender - a clear deviation from the normal parlance of Super Star Destroyer, designed to placate the Alliance Senate - opened its oversized hanger bays and disgorged its contingent of escorts. Squadron after squadron of starfighters poured forth, joined by larger corvettes frigates. A single cruiser was the last to emerge, slowly guiding itself out of the massive hanger, a testament to the engineering brilliance of the Republic Engineering Corporation. The escorts spread out around the Alliance flagship and formed a protective screen against outside threats.
On the bridge, Vice Chancellor Tithe surveyed the star field before him. This would be a simple clean up operation, a low-risk mission to bring Korriban to the heel following the collapse of the Sith Empire. The Alliance flag had flown on Korriban in recent memory in the days following its liberation alongside Felucia, only for the Sith Eternal - whose regime had vanished as quickly as they had appeared - to later claim the ancient burial world.
The war fleet of Tu'teggacha
hung over the dead world, centred around a massive Super Star Destroyer. There was little published on his enigmatic species, the Ebruchi. They were known to be ruthless and nomadic, though in diametric opposition, they were open to working alongside other species. The few Ebruchi who Tithe had encountered in the business world were relentless in their pursuit of credits - a trait he embraced and respected - but were more dangerous thanks to their openness to investments and business opportunities outside of their comfort zones, a behaviour which escaped many investors who preferred what they knew and could understand. If Tu'teggacha followed in the same mould, Tithe needed to watch carefully for his unorthodox naval tactics.
The other force present, led by Darth Carnifex
, was a known factor. Tithe had long worked as a member of the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan under the Sith, and knew all too well how their systems were designed. Efficiency, structure and single-minded loyalty were the pillars on which their economic system had once, and he expected the same to prevail in how Carnifex’s forces would behaviour. While a command economy had benefits, its weaknesses were well known. Innovation and agility were the enemies when your institutions were hierarchically structured around the word of one.
“Yes, alert Grand Admiral Isla Draellix-Kobitana
and advise her that we stand in, ah, solidarity,” Tithe explained. He cast his eyes over the combined fleets of the Crusade, the New Imperial Order, and assorted allies. This would all be over momentarily. “And contact Cardinal Pietro Demici
, I've ponitifcated further on the bacta trade provisions, and have a proposition he may find copacetic.” Tithe and Demici’s work on a trade agreement between the Alliance and the Crusade had been interrupted by the decision to attack Korriban. While most would find the economic dialogue a distraction, Tithe himself found the naval engagement to be the greater annoyance. The Ashlan’s holy crusade against the Sith could wait, and indeed, this engagement should be over within the hour. Credits, however, waited for no being.
Tithe crossed the bridge to where Admiral Chalu was studying a tactical display. “I trust our investments are paying dividends?”“Ferret II’s are away,” the Morseerian naval officer explained, her voice distorted by her methane gas mask. “Data streams are live, no enemy ships moving to intercept.” The small Alliance drones, equipped with sensor masking technology, began to circle around the perimeter of the battlefield and direct their high powered sensors toward the movements of the enemy assets.
Tithe nodded in approval. Warfare, just like the markets, rewarded those who held more information than their opponents.
The gunner had been honed in on the approaching X-Wings even before the voice of her commanding officer manifested in her ears, but they were not the only threat which had manifested itself over the last few moments within the tides of the ever-shifting battlespace. Her link to AQUILA fed data directly into her awareness, allowing her to process the arrival of 54 Ashlan warships within a split-second of their translation into the system. She watched with unflinching poise as the defensive platform of the Sith Eternal, which had reigned over this region of space for a brief period, was obliterated under a hail of turbolaser fire. Fortunately, the data from that brief engagement seemed to allow AQUILA to more accurately evaluate the capabilities of the Ashlan warships, the conclusions of which were quickly fed into the gunner’s awareness.
In short, the Ashlan fleet was one of powerful and resilient bruisers, bristling with massive batteries of weapons and layered with thick armor plating. However, those boons would likely make them slow and cumbersome warships, perhaps easy to hit, but hard to kill.
The Alliance fleet which arrived thereafter was more of a mystery for the time being, but data studied from previous engagements at the very least told the gunner that their fleets were typically well-balanced, composed of a variety of vessels meant to compensate for weaknesses and complement strengths. However, with the economic weight and resources of the core at their disposal, they quite easily produced and fielded many gargantuan dreadnoughts, one of which, identified as the Morai, had arrived in the system along with an escort of frigates, corvettes, and cruisers.
With the most immediate threat seemingly addressed by the fighter screen moving to intercept the approaching X-Wings, KV-6000 could afford to focus her attention on tracking the movements of the Alliance, New Imperial, and Ashlan fleets, which were now beginning to assume offensive postures.
The eight powerful mass drivers under the strand-cast’s control sat still for the time being, but their silence belied the multiple complex processes running in the gunner’s linked awareness as she monitored the initial progress of the engagement.
Everything sucked, as usual. Everything was terrible. The Galaxy continued its slide into madness and she was pulled, struggling, along for the ride. Kirie sighed, rising from her cot and pacing over to the cramped desk in her quarters.
Kirie retrieved a pair of bulky earpieces from the drawer, an obsolete bit of tech that she had saved from years ago. She flicked through her communicator and selected some calming music. Everything sucked, but it didn't have to. She could be relaxed, positive. One day, maybe even happy, if she made the effort.
She sat back down on her bunk and let the sound of the tunes wash over her, feeling her heart rate and breathing slow. Below them was the Sith world of Korriban, and outside a battle was brewing. She did her best not to dwell on it, letting her racing thoughts drift by her as she settled into meditation.
A harsh beep from her communicator cut off the music suddenly, and Kirie jumped in surprise, hitting her head on the top of her bunk and cursing. She fumbled with the device and opened the communique, her fleeting sense of calm shattered in an instant.
Kirie frowned at the message. Master San Tekka had summoned her, and that almost certainly meant trouble, that she was about to get thrown into the fight again. It was to be expected, them being where they were, but Kirie didn’t know if she was ready to face the war and bloodshed again, not after last time. Kirie pursed her lips and suppressed a sigh, quickly writing out a reply to say she was on her way. She removed her earpiece and placed it back on the desk, retrieving her lightsaber as she did so. She then rummaged through her belongings until she found her chestplate and pulled it on, before finally heading out the door to meet the Master.
A shudder rolled down her spine as she clipped her saber to her belt. Her Bondar saber had been broken back on Krayiss, and in desperation she had retrieved the weapon of a fallen Sith acolyte until she could find another that suited her. The crimson saber behaved surprisingly well when she had wielded it, but Kirie could feel the pain and darkness that radiated from its core, and that disturbed her greatly. However, until she could find a suitable replacement it would have to do.
A few minutes later, Kirie filed into place beside the Alliance Marines in the hangar. Kirie clenched her fist, doing her best to push down her fear. She had to be calm, had to relax.
Master San Tekka addressed her, and she shook her head in reply.
“I’ve never flown one, but I can pilot in a pinch- if it isn’t much different from a transport.”
She looked up at the Jedi Master. He looked composed, sure of himself as he stood overlooking the Alliance forces. A warrior of the Light. Kirie wished she felt like that. In front of him, she was just a pretender playing dress-up.
Kirie clenched her teeth. No, she was more than that. She had to be more than that.
It was a place that she somehow knew that Khefiir
would never take her. She didn't know what finagling her new master had done to get her the honorary rank of Commander but she was here and she felt read. Thalia felt that she had grown a lot over the last few months. It was almost her 16th nameday and she knew she could handle herself in a fight.
So why was she so nervous as she wrapped the familiar weight of her brown Jedi robes over her field leathers. She felt her hands shaking as she clipped the two mated lightsabers to her chest and slid the military issue sidearm into a holster at her hip. The blaster's weight seemed so heavy that Thalia felt as if she would tip over from the weight. She was starting to regret eating that extra portion of Navy Rations.
The hangar was vast and seemed to go on forever as row after row of X-Wing and attack shuttle launched for battle. The sight only served to flip her stomach even more. A reassuring pat on the shoulder from Dane though as her Master arrived anchored her in the moment.
Thalia wrinkled her nose at the mention of boarding pods. At their best they were screaming death traps. At worst they were durasteel coffins that forced you to watch as death rushed up to meet you.
"You don't fly them as much as you...fall in them." She tried to keep the snark out of her voice in her response to Kirie, but the lady got on her nerves. You would think that a Jedi at her age wouldn't need guidance. But it seemed like she tagged along everywhere and it was times like these Thalia felt the older Jedi was no more useful than a Water Dragon on a hot summer day.
"They're drop pods. Mandos sometimes used to shoot them out of their mass drivers, use them as boarding pods." She grimaced, not able to hide her discomfort. She'd seen them in action through vids of the old wars, both in documentaries and in dramatized holo flics. The flics always made drop pods seem cooler than they were, but from her experience free-falling in one from the upper stratosphere of Pamarthe in her youth, they weren't fun. "We're not going to the surface in one of the are we?" Just the thought of being cramped that close to Kirie as she attempted to "Fly" the pod made her stomach lurch.
This was to be the moment of retribution, was it not? The culmination of his life's work, the conclusion to his great struggle? Why, then, did it leave him feeling so hollow?
The collapse of the Sith Empire had been met with cheers across the galaxy, and yet it had only brought forth confusion and paralyzing indecision from Cedric. Total victory over the Sith was an unattainable goal, or so he had believed, a cause which he could serve for the rest of his days and at the end, say that his life had meant something. Now he stood upon the beating heart of the Sith religion, ready to drive his blade straight through it, and where he should have been drowning in the ecstasy of achieving something others could only dream of, he found himself disappointedly numbed.
There was justice, of course. The Crusade's rearguard were moving to liberate Ession's remaining population from their chains at that very moment, and he allowed himself a modicum of satisfaction in knowing that the Sith would likely be crippled for decades. By all accounts, the age of darkness was coming to its end. His personal feelings, all-consuming as they were to him, were irrelevant when compared to the greatness that might come from a new galactic age of enlightenment.
The exile's thoughts lingered on that as he marched through the sands at the head of his host toward the academy. Command over the legion was left to his subordinates, Geiseric
in particular in this theatre. He needed freedom of movement if they were to pierce the dark heart of the Sith academy, and the forces guarding the institution were seemingly too limited and underequipped to react to the battle plan he'd established before the invasion began in any meaningful way. The presence of the Maw, both in space, the outskirts of the academy, and within would only serve to further their operational superiority against the remnants of the Empire, though the fleet above was large enough to challenge both that of the Crusade and its allies.
He had private worries that the myriad tools of the Bogan arrayed before them might push the Crusade back, but his faith stifled such doubts. It was only the Ashla that had kept the Essonians from going extinct entirely, only her light that had guided and protected them as they shuffled through the dark corners of the galaxy as a race of refugees, and only an act of providence on her part that had seen the empire shattered.
Still, the work was not done. The dark heart kept on beating, even as the body rotted around it. Perhaps when it was stopped, when the shadow was finally eclipsed, Cedric might actually feel something beyond this unwelcome melancholy.
Something to strive toward.
Blaster fire echoed throughout the canyons surrounding the academy as Geiseric
shouted his orders and the host charged. Part of Cedric privately recoiled at the reverence with which his name was spoken. The only way the Sith could truly be destroyed was with the might of a unified people, and to truly forge his people into a weapon of righteousness, total authority was required. He claimed the titles of king and emperor not out of pride, or a lust for power, but out of necessity. He chose this path because it was the only path, and the choice had only ever been an illusion. Generations to come would label him a tyrant, a beast, perhaps even a traitor, but they would all reap the benefits of his sacrifice.
That was the Jedi path at its core -- the sacrifice of everything one might love or take pleasure in for the sake of the greater collective. This crusade and the coming cleansing would be Cedric's great sacrifice, the validation of his very existence.
For what other purpose was a man to live?
The Blade of Ruusan roared to life as the hordes of the Maw opened up a veritable storm of laserfire upon the Ashlan army. The fight up the academy steps would be a bloody one, it seemed. Cedric was little more than a blur of white and gold as he emptied his mind of any thoughts beyond the base impulses of instinct, his limbs moving of their own accord as he danced through the foremost of the Maw's host. Any savage that drew too close to him, or dared to try and meet him melee combat was rendered either maimed or dead. These creatures were not so much warriors as they were animals capable of holding weapons and occasionally firing them, meant to buy time rather than to stop the Ashlans in any realistic sense. Cedric did his best to remove hands and arms rather than outright killing his foes where he could, but one could only restrain themselves in the thick of war so much before they paid for it.
The closest immediate threats temporarily dealt with, Cedric faded behind the line to catch a glimpse of Mikhail Grayson
. His nephew's skills had grown tremendously, as he'd expected, though the exile had been hesitant to let the boy join him here. Guilt had won out in the end: these Sith had murdered Mikhail's parents, the boy had the right to be here at their twilight.
His attentions would then shift toward Auteme
. She and several knights of the New Jedi Order were present, both in the cities and here along with their Galactic Alliance contingent. Politically speaking, relations between the alliance and the crusade remained frosty, but their mutual enemy and shared membership within the Bastion Protocols allowed any distaste to be overlooked for the time being. That displeasure was not shared with the NJO, whom Cedric saw more as the students of his students, a branch somewhat influenced by his own teachings, even if the knowledge of such was pushed to the wayside. They were kin.
"I had thought I might feel some form of satisfaction setting foot on Korriban," his modulated voice carried over the increasingly distant cacophony that came with the bloody push up the stairs of the academy. A missile fired from the balcony of the structure careened down toward the Ashlan soldiers. Cedric extended a hand, and so too extended invisible tendrils of telekinetic energy. The projectile stopped mid-air, hung for a moment, then exploded nearly harmlessly well above the combat. The exile's masked gaze fell upon Auteme once more. "But this just feels like another battle."
Korriban , the Legendary Homeworld of the Sith. Under the Sith Empire it had been a stronghold and a bastion of Sith-Imperial Power but now , a shadow of it's former self. The Sith had retreated back into the Shadows , in the wakes of the collapse of the Sith Empire , Warlords of the Sith and the Sith Eternal , plotting their return in the form of a New Sith Order which had risen under the guidance of Darth Solipsis. It was no mystery for why the Ashlan Crusade had come to Korriban , it is a symbol of Sith Power just as how Alderaan or Bastion represented the fires of Rebellion and Defiance or the will of the so-called Iron Son.
As the Predator traveled through hyperspace headed towards Korriban with the rest of the Maw Irregular Fleet , Marlon Sularen sat within his Command Chair on the bridge of his Flagship thinking about his life and the events that led to this moment and his time in The Grayson Imperium , Zweihander Union , New Imperial Order and Galactic Alliance. Within the spam of approximately 7 Years , the Grand Overseer of the Final Dawn had made numerous powergrabs in an attempt to gain prominence in the galaxy and establish himself as fearfully respected ruler of worlds , yet again and again he had failed , treated as a liability or irrelevant , disregarded by many always denied from what he saw as his rightful prize.
Along the way he had made many enemies and few allies and was essentially trapped in a loop of failure , rising to prominence only to get casted out , disgraced and ridiculed by society and seeking vengeance for the deception , betrayal and humiliations he had suffered. He had told himself numerous times that each new attempt was going to work , during his time in the New Imperial Order , the Galactic Alliance and now the Final Dawn yet he still failed always unable to defeat his enemies who were always one step ahead of him no matter what. Now here he was , a disgraced Officer serving the Final Dawn seeking to retake his "rightful" place in the Galaxy and revenge against those who had deceived him , committing numerous atrocities along the way and only making more enemies.
Korriban was nothing more but another step forward in Sularen's New Plan to regain/preserve his power and return to the Core Worlds. His Maw Irregular Fleet was rebuilt , comprised of new ships from Byss and Exegol , stronger and more powerful then anything the Final Dawn had produced earlier and already the Grand Overseer had tested some of these new vessels against the Alliance at Kril'Dor to great effect. Now it was the time to strike here at Korriban , now it was the time to show everyone , the Alliance , New Imperials and Ashlans that he wasn't some joke , that he was a force beyond reckoning and one day , maybe the entirety of the Core and Deep Core would be his to rule and Judgement could finally be imposed on those who had opposed him throughout the past decade.
KORRIBAN , SITH WORLDS Objective | Annihilate the Allied Fleet
Main Focus | Task Force Venality
The Maw Irregular Fleet jumped out of Hyperspace at the edge of the Korriban System behind the Sith/Mawite Lines of Defenses. Comprised of Vessels Sularen had amassed in the past 5 Years , the Maw Irregular had grown to become the largest fleet ever assembled by the Brotherhood of the Maw representing the peak of Sularen's Power and acting as his main tool for vengeance. It was here where Sularen would demonstrate the full power of his mighty fleet to the Alliance , New Imperials and Ashlans to demonstrate that he was more then just a thorn on their side and a force to be reckoned with.
"Sir , we have arrived at Korriban. We are already detecting Ashlan , Alliance , New Imperial and Kainate Forces already present in orbit with no major combat having begun yet." Captain Fisk said as the Maw Irregular moved to link up with the rest of the Mawite Fleet. "Get me Taskmaster Tu'teggacha i'd like to speak with him" Sularen ordered to his men. Once the Channels were secured , Tu'teggacha would receive a transmission from the Grand Overseer of the Final Dawn. "Taskmaster , this is Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen of the Final Dawn. The Maw Irregular Fleet has arrived. What is the status of your Fleet?"
Then Sularen turned to his officers. "What do we have on the enemy Fleet?" the Grand Overseer asked comfortably seated in his Command Chair. "We detect approximately 5 Enemy Fleets total , seems that most of the Allied Armada is mostly comprised of New Imperial and Ashlan Warships. We believe Admiral-Regent Carlyle Rausgeber and Grand Admiral Isla Draellix are spearheading their respective nation's efforts here in orbit" Sularen sighed in response somewhat annoyed at this revelation. "Of-course these New Imperials and Ashlans would spearhead this effort. Two Nations led by Egotistical Leaders who rose to power by assembling a cadre of Anti-Sith Followers. One day they will meet their demise at the hands of the Final Dawn , one way or another and i'll make sure of t."
Sularen despised the New Imperials and the Ashlans , more then the Alliance. While the Galactic Alliance was quick to turn on him and force him into exile , the New Imperial Order and Grayson's Core-based Grayson Imperium had welcomed him with open arms much like how the Final Dawn did , except that he barely lasted a year within the New Imperial Order or the Grayson Imperium , casted out and quickly forgotten by them with both having seen him as nothing more then a thorn on their side and as a liability. They robbed Sularen from any chance at establishing himself in the Galaxy and had proven to be nothing much but nations of liars , cheaters and usurpers yet here they were now attempting to impose their will upon the Galaxy and trying to dictate Galactic Affairs.
The very thought of this infuriated the Grand Overseer and what came next add-up to this frustration. One of the officers of Bridge interrupted Sularen's Thoughts to give him more information on the enemy fleet revealing even more about the Allied Armada. "Grand Overseer sir , we have also detected an Alliance Task Force in the system and it seems to be headed by Vice-Chancellor Aerarii Tithe.". Tithe. Sularen thought. That bastard had been crucial in his Exile from Byss having sided with Corellia and Duros against him during the Byss Crisis forcing Sularen to surrender and paving the way for the eventual occupation of his Throneworld. If Tithe was here , then this was the perfect chance for the Grand Overseer to get his Revenge as promised to him by Darth Solipsis himself.
"What's the Composition of Tithe's Fleet?" the Grand Overseer asked in a serious tone. Tithe was now Sularen's main target and if he could get his hands on him then perhaps he would be able to relay a message to the Alliance one that could potentially make the people of the Core fear his wrath and finally understand the mistake of aligning with a bunch of liars and usurpers. "We have detected 13 Ships in total , 1 Cruiser , 4 Frigates , 7 Corvettes and One Super Star Defender." an Officer replied. This revelation put a smile on Sularen's face. Tithe's Fleet was small compared to his and he could easily destroy his escort fleet , capture the Vice-Chancellor , and get revenge for what happened on Byss. So the Grand Overseer decided to do just that.
"Alright men , i want all Fighter Squadrons to be prepared for deployment and for all Batteries to be prepared to open fire. Our Main target will be the Fleet escorting Vice-Chancellor Tithe's Flagship , the Morai. I want to know the exact size of the Starfighter Compliment of Tithe's Task Force and the structural weaknesses of his Vessels. We are going to strike at that Task Force and strike hard and i want everything to be executed flawlessly." The Grand Overseer ordered. Soon enough the Bridge Crew began carrying out the orders as the Grand Overseer adjusted his position in his chair. He was finally going to strike back at those who had betrayed him and he knew exactly where to start. "Patch me through to Vice-Chair Tithe. NOW!!!"
Objective 1 & 2: Steal Sith Treasures, Plant deadly surprise. Find some way to save Korriban. (Laertia, Battalion, Cultists, Model 1's, and Serpents)
Objective 3: All Model 2"s and their vessels
Three weeks prior...
By all rights, she shouldn't care about Korriban falling.
However, at this point, anything and everything was necessary to slow down the advance of the Galactic Alliance, the NIO, and The Crusade. All options must be considered. No matter how heinous. Part of it was to make them pay to the last possible instant for choosing this path. The other part was to stall for time...she was almost certain either the NIO or the Ashlan Crusade would go for The Eternal Empire. The more they lost here, the more demoralized they grew here, the harder it might be for them to destroy the Eternal Empire of Ingrid L'lerim
, whom she had secretly aligned with. And they would not tolerate the reality of Light and Dark coexisting in the CIS. Their self righteousness wouldn't permit it.
Since Ziost, when she had orchestrated a horrific trap for the Blue Hearts of DECEASED Erskine Barran
in the form of enchanted gravity generators, slaughtering vast swaths of Crusaders at the same time, she knew she couldn't repeat the same tactic, lest she become too predictable. But that left her wondering what else she could do.
So she had resolved to go deep into the Galaxy, seeking answers. Seeking an advantage. Anything to kill The Bryn'adul with, but also seeking to make the Jedi and their Alliance pay for their incomprehensibly selfish behavior in focusing on the Sith.
As the days crept towards what intelligence indicated would be a massive invasion of Korriban, Xiphos had been at a loss.
Then, her scouts had found something as she hid out in Eternal Empire space, secretly a member of Ingrid's faction.
An ancient graveyard of starships located at the edge of E.E. Space, obscured by an asteroid field, as well as slight gravitational anomalies due to being close to an unlisted Main Sequence Star had a prize or two amongst it's wreckage from various ages. But there was prizes and then there were Prizes, and Xiphos would not have shown had she not realized just how massive a find this actually was.
It had been a desperate journey to the starship graveyard, using her stealth equipped Gozanti Cruiser, The Absolution Of Loste as her ferry. She had signalled The Battalion to meet her there, noting with discomforting interest that The Witch used a TIE Reaper for transportation when she arrived. Xiphos of course, had linked up with her in her own vessel, a micro warship based on the Fury Class Interceptor called The Shadow Bride.
"Alright, Xiphos, now you have me wondering... what's so interesting about some ship graveyard in the middle of nowhere?" The Battalion asked over comms as they both navigated the Asteroid field.
"You'll see. You'll like this surprise..." Xiphos assured her.
The Asteroids grew smaller, faster, more complicated to traverse. Both had to genuinely work at navigation.
But then, they cleared it, and The Battalion genuinely whistled in amazement.
"Is that...is that an Eternal Empire Warship?" The Battalion gasped, genuinely astonished.
"What's left of it." Xiphos said. "Useless unless it's a salvage job...but there's a great deal to scavenge from it. I'm just hoping the one thing I want in particular is intact..."
"Even if you found one even intact enough to repair fully...what makes you think you could fix it?" The Battalion asked as they circled the wreckage.
"I don't need to restore it to Mint Condition. I just need it to function long enough to do what I want. Besides, I'm certain a solution will present itself." Xiphos answered. "The hangar section looks structurally stable. Let's land. Got a space suit?"
"Yes. There are also other ships...intact ones...intact enough that they could be restored quickly in an emergency...the Battalion noted, firing tracking beacons at a few vessels she spotted in particular...
Xiphos made sure to record the scans for later review...much would need to be done...
However even she was astonished at some of the things she found. In the wake of the completely wrecked warship was another few,, some heavily damaged, but not completely beyond hope.
But something was suspicious...what had allowed these salvage jobs to stay so intact. She expected more rust, more faded paint. Yet...
"Battalion, are your scans picking up anything?"
"Yeah...there are tons of what look like highly enlarged Stasis Field Generators hidden all over the field...and very ancient gravitic field generators also...curious..." The Witch answered as she performed a careful flyby of a the damaged craft.
"Who would have put them there?"
"Someone with more money than what even Arianna has. It could have been anyone really. For any reason. Illegal military salvage is difficult to secure. Especially without anyone finding out. Judging by how most of this is unsalvaged, I'd have to say whoever set it up hasn't been taking full advantage of it."
"Their loss..." Xiphos said, setting down in the hangar. Her technopathy reached out, coaxing atoms of power into ancient systems to at least restore the Force Field of the Hangar as The Battalion's TIE Reaper set down.
Xiphos came out in a flexible space suit just as The Battalion did, as neither were confident about life support. They surveyed the interior of the ancient hangar.
"Imagine what we could learn from a ship such as this..." The Battalion mused, taking a few steps forward.
"We will learn all we can..." Xiphos assured.
"How casually you include me in your plans..." The Battalion said, smirking.
"I am not blind..." Xiphos snapped as she began heading for an enlarged archway. "It wasn't Syd who helped me at Ziost. Or Vjun. Sure, you're using me, just as I'm using you. But that doesn't mean we don't produce results when in tandem."
"Why do you love Syd Celsius?" The Battalion asked in genuine curiosity as she followed her, using Force Flight to float and glide next to the woman she was growing obsessed with.
"Someone like you wouldn't understand." Xiphos replied as she walked with mag boots down the passages.
"Try me." The Battalion teased. "You can have a free sample if you like..."
Xiphos rolled her eyes but chose to humor her.
"She...completed me..."
(Cutaway of The Joker laughing in the interrogation room)
(Cutaway of J Jonah Jameson laughing uncontrollably)
"She's kind and she's a warrior. Powerful. Wise. Beautiful. Highly skilled. Someone I wasn't sure I could defeat. I was smitten. Especially after she fixed my voice. Being without her is...painful..."
"She understood you."
"Yes."
"Do you think she is preparing to betray you?"
Xiphos was very quiet for a moment before answering, stopping to look at her.
"Yes." Xiphos answered softly, pushing past floating debris, moving the largest pieces aside with Telekinesis
"So someone, ostensibly a nice person, has completely turned on you simply because they didn't understand you as well as they thought they did. Seems none of your friends understood you as well as they thought they did." The Battalion noted. "Ah the agony of Fairweather Friends. Sunshine Soldiers and Summertime Patriots, the lot of them."
Xiphos didn't reply.
The Battalion pressed it.
"Is it really so hard to believe me and Amy are actually trying to save you?" She wondered as she floated alongside Xiphos. "Is it truly that horrible to you, The Dark Side?"
"I've seen what it does. Trust me, were there no Bryn'adul, I wouldn't have even considered working alongside you OR Amy." Xiphos snapped.
"But...but what future do you have?!" The Battalion asked, the depth of a Light Sith's monomania becoming truly apparent to her. "You have burned almost every bridge that could possibly be burned for your cause. No less than three major powers consider you public enemy number one! The Jedi will do nearly anything to stop you now! Your best chance of survival is giving in to The Bogan's will, it's plan for you. For all of us."
"I'm prepared for Death."
"But what of failure?"
Xiphos spared her a glance.
"There is always risk of failure. But I ain't dead yet."
"Xiphos...your position is untenable ultimately. The more successful you are, the more resources your enemies will pour into defeating you. Even you, as skilled and as powerful as you are, cannot resist all of them with just your army. You honestly believe the factions that are hiding you will continue to do so if it means saving themselves from the wrath of your Enemies?"
"The factions that are hiding me will inevitably come to blows with those same enemies, who will not be satisfied with just the Destruction of the Sith, but all who do not ascribe to their Puritan morals--"
"Xiphos!" The Battalion hissed, getting her attention by grabbing her shoulder, trying to snap her out of her Light Sith Monomania even if briefly.
"I'm trying to save your life!" The Battalion pleaded to even her own internal surprise. Xiphos hid her shock, because she knew The Battalion hadn't faked that plea. They both knew it.
"No one can save me. Even if I succeed...I have still lost, for it will cost me everything to succeed..."
(Cutaway of Thanos snapping his fingers)
To the Battalion's surprise, Xiphos scooped the Witch into her arms, now carrying her in a bridal manner.
"This walk bores me..." Xiphos explained, ignoring The Battalion's relaxed body language and intrigued expression as she let her fingers glide against Xiphos's face plate.
"I don't believe that. People? People have to want saving." The Battalion mused. "And I think deep down, part of you wants saving. But you're too proud. Well...Pride does go before a fall...and I will try as long as I can to save you."
Xiphos said nothing at this, too busy fighting off her hunger for the Witch in her arms.
She teleported a long distance down the chamber, both blinking back into existence at the start of the engineering section...
Xiphos set her down.
"My hero..." The Battalion mocked playfully.
Xiphos stopped herself was chuckling as she preceded forward into the heavily wrecked section.
It wasn't long before they found it. It was at the center, parts of the area around it broken off. The Generator itself was quite damaged, and she quickly went to a terminal overlooking the ancient, massive powerplant
"Key components are damaged beyond repair. They'll have to be totally replaced..." Xiphos noted, her technopathy forcing the long defunct terminal to work.
"How fast can it be fixed?" The Battalion asked.
The Sith-Imperial Engineers I managed to swipe from the Empire can figure that part out...but I'm gonna work them like Kath hounds..." Xiphos answered, damaged mind churning with possibilities...
(Fallen Order Upgrade Sound Plays)
(Xiphos has salvaged Warships and Items for Dawn of Hope!)
Warship: ARQUITENS LIGHT CRUISER
Ancient Light Cruiser from the days of The Clone Wars, working with relatively small crew numbers but armed with Turbolasers. Multi-Purpose Warship
Warship: C-70 RETROFIT
Military refit of the Consular Class Cruiser
Item: SUN GENERATOR
Ancient Generator that powered the warships of the long defunct Eternal Empire of Valkorian. Barely salvageable, it's use must be very carefully decided in the coming battle...
Later...
14 hours before invasion, Korriban.
Scion Mobile Shipyards had worked as fast as they possibly could have in the time allotted. They were still salvaging ships from that place, still dragging whatever they could of it into the Unknown Regions. Multiple parts from other wrecks had been used to fully restore the two ships she had needed repaired the most. Others had more Conventional, easy purchases and fixes. Arianna had once more come through, acquiring a small attack force of Vong Ships to supplement Xiphos's plan. They wouldn't leap into the battle immediately: They would wait until everyone was nice and close.
Great pains had been taken to enchant it for a terrible ritual it would serve as fuel for...even Themis (who Xiphos knew would be amongst The Ashlan's this day as a field medic) had been amazed at what Xiphos was going to attempt...
But enough of that. The next challenge had been getting smuggled to Korriban...
The Sith Empire was in it's death throes. Xiphos had some goodwill left among multiple Sith Empire officers. (Even certain Sith Lords, to her surprise) greatful for her past efforts to help the Empire stay alive. It was they who had put their own resources on the line to smuggle her and her sons into Sith Space in Maw Ships, though they had made sure to tell her that, given the dire circumstances, it would likely be the last time they could help her in this manner. After today, she would likely be on her own.
Xiphos hadn't batted an eye at this. Nor did she bat an eye at the fact that for all her sacrifice, she had still ultimately failed to stop her enemies from defeating the Empire.
She despised the Alliance and the NIO, but most of all she despised the Jedi of the NJO and SJC, and vowed to punish them as much and as brutally as she possibly could in the times to come. She would not stop until they felt the weight of their decision not to focus on the Bryn'adul, until they suffered like the victims of the Bryn'adul suffered.
She would not rest until Coren Starchaser
suffered as well. She would hunt his friends, his allies like dogs. He would regret the day he didn't grow a spine and stood up to that fanatic Ryv. She would wreck his dreams of victory. Of peace. The Jedi would never know peace in this era, only the punishment she would inflict on them for clinging to their idealism and letting the Bryn'adul kill as many as they could just to defeat the Sith. She would be their Judge, their Jury, their Executioner if she saw fit. She wasn't planning to kill most of them...dead people cannot suffer after all. There are worse punishments than Death for Jedi.
They had deployed in large cargo ships bearing Maw Affiliated markings to reduce suspicion, landing a few kilometers from the Academy close to a mountain range, where she and fifty-strong squad of Model 1's on the surface had then proceeded into one of the many hidden tunnel networks in the Valley of The Dark Lord's that led straight to the Academy. The rest of her sons however, quietly prepared for a strike on the surface, scuttling the cargo ships in self destruct.
She felt the evil nature of Korriban call out to her, using the Heretical techniques of Themis to resist the power. The Battalion had separate orders, going underneath, and deeper into the tunnel networks to loot the last and most deeply buried tombs, not to preserve the relics, but to use them as additional fuel for the terrible ritual she and Xiphos had spent days mapping out how to enact, Witches coming here in disguise as Maw agents, crucially laying the ground work for the ritual in multiple tunnels.
Xiphos was currently writing runes in the ancient tunnels at key points in her own blood, which emitted such an intense, albeit twisted presence in the Light it scared off some errant spirits. They all knew what she was.
Her sons also made sure to lay booby traps, such as Sonic Mines, and acid bombs, but otherwise followed her as she found a secret entrance to the Academy. It was already under attack, good news for her, as any Maw or Sith Eternal would be too distracted by the number of people who had come to dance on a dusty grave.
She signalled her sons to take position in key sections, and to ruthlessly kill whoever was hostile to them except for Eternal Empire and CIS Personnel. If necessary, they were to allow themselves to be damaged, even destroyed if the choice came to that. Stunning them, however, was perfectly acceptable...
Xiphos let her power flow out of her as she charged through the Academy, her veiny, Dark Blue Enchanted living armor which concealed her face pulsing as her enhanced Telekinesis while wearing it allowed her to emotionlessly, dispassionately rip chunks of floor and ceiling into Ashlan's, teleporting around and above them for surprise attacks, butchering or freezing dozens dead in the first few minutes of her rampage, a Force of Nature more than mere Warrior as she had once been at this point.
Xiphos, beyond the comforts of her family, felt only misery most days, locking it away as she did now, cutting down Ashlan's without mercy. Then she sensed him.
She had sought this challenge for some time since throwing down the gauntlet with Ession. Xiphos felt nothing but sneering contempt towards the man who claimed he acted in the Light's name. Xiphos thought it arrogance, especially given what his soldiers did to civilians at Ziost.
Teleporting to the top of the staircase, he was attempting to take, she spotted him as well as Auteme
, another one of the idealistic fools who were willing to let the Bryn'adul slaughter as long as the Sith died first. She would kill her too if she tried to interfere...or if she got half a chance.
She brandished her blade, its core dark green, it's aura white, erupting from a rusted, faded hilt.
"Crucifier." she called out. "Brigand. Churchgoer. Your angel of death awaits. Face me. Attack me with everything you are, everything you have. I do not fear you."
TANGO DOWN: GALIDRAANI SPECIAL FORCES ON KORRIBAN I -DOYLE'S SCOPE
<"Orders came from the top, kill any and all Mawites you come across, retrieve any possible intel and make way to the selected evac point." >
'Glady, pushing in from the western FOB now - over an' out.', Doyle replied, slapping the shoulder of his second-in-command to mobilise the others, all geared-up and protected for the impending riot of blood, guts and gore with the Brotherhood of the Maw. Each and every man and woman present had encountered their opponents at some point along the way, some were from the Free-State's Fighting First, some had served with Barran in one or two of his brigade's iterations, whilst others had shown merit in the field since before being snatched from their units for Unit 44's selection-process. Each and every soldier there was made of the nightmares that fuelled their selection-passing fury, each and every soldier there a savage in their own right, making the machetes, kukris, cleavers and bowie-knives at their hips appear all the more frightening to the opponents they'd be facing off against.
No more Fairbairns and bayonets, these warriors were out for heads, these warriors were out to keep score against each other. The type of competition, though healthy for morale, would appear very macabre to the more-civilised aspects of Galidraani society, but it takes the macabre to rout the macabre in battle after all. With the entirety of the Galidraani homeworlds' most brutal scions on display in both Doyle and Roland's squads, Unit 44 in general were already shaping up to be the hardest-hitting infantry outfit in the New Order's war on the Mawites. With new wars came new opponents, and with new opponents, a new army would need to arise to face it effectively; and with the new army, a new breed of soldier would need to arise and fight harder than any Galidraani who put boots on hostile ground before them, as the drawing-board always dictates in adaptation to the new challenges that give rise to such savages.
'Everybody here, Arthur? Good, now listen up! Lady Enedina wants heads, Lord Willan wants heads - and intel, biht!', the Woad began, turning his rifle's safety off as he spoke, adding effect to his little joke whilst he paced backwards, strolling down the hill towards the action without a care in the world. With others pacing towards him and turning their own safety-catches off, Doyle started to chuckle muffled laughter under the safety of his helmet, though still loud enough that his giddy comrades were infected by it, laughing even louder together as the continued to stroll down the hill and look for signs from Roland's squad's movements. Taking this opportunity to finish the short briefing with words of encouragement to close out before they moved in on the targets they'd been observing for days in preparation, the Westcaper drew his machete and held it aloft, shouting,'If there's no-one around t'help you, trust in yer bloodlust, an' trust in THESE T'GET THE JOB DONE!!!', before sheathing it again, turning to the valley ahead and running downhill with his rifle held in it's pistol-and-front grips.
TANGO DOWN: GALIDRAANI SPECIAL FORCES ON KORRIBAN II -HEADHUNTERS' HABITAT
Their first victims didn't count, and thus their heads stayed on their shoulders, though not without having cleaving weapons making a mess of them first, as these were a platoon of beleaguered Sith-troopers. Upon inspection of their corpses, (along with the surrounding area, consisting of their makeshift outpost and a ramshackle lookout tower) it was surmised that these remnant elements were guarding a Darth until their leader saw fit to abandon them days before the battle had even begun, a depressing end for a sad shell of the army they were once a part of. One of Doyle's subordinates expressed a distaste they were all feeling, growling,'We weren't deployed here to put these karkin' sadacts out of their misery, this lot were for Lord Gowrie t'clean up.', with nods of agreement greeting him in reply, Doyle included.
'Agreed, bigger fish to fry! Let's move!'
Poised to move, everyone in Doyle's close vicinity let the Woad-born savage lead the formation, pacing outward in a wide line as their squad-leader ran eastward with easy-bearings given by Korriban's rising sun, and before long they'd all be running in formation as Doyle set the pace. Others in the area knew the drill, if they were too busy at the time to join the formation, the solo squad-members had the skillset to survive and the tech required to track the others; any such contingencies were always well-covered with specific equipment purchased and upgraded to fit their needs, and to a greater, more tailor-fitted degree than the other elements within the Free-State. Not that it would matter in this instance, as they wouldn't be far away when the eventual warning echoed out around them in the form of traded hostilities, and a roar of,'CONTACT TO THE EAST!!! MAWITES INCOMING!!!!', a development they all had hoped they wouldn't need to wait long for.
'K-C IN PROGRESS!!! DIE, DIIIE, DIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!'
Whether these were just a smaller marauder contingent scouting for the larger group guarding the dig site, nobody in Doyle's squad knew, and nobody in Doyle's squad even remotely cared; this was what they had all been training for, this is where they were all supposed to return, the ever-changing Imperial theatres of war, back in the same kinds of crucible where it began for all of them. Doyle would get the rushes he'd been praying for, shouldering his rifle with the biggest smile on his face as he sent covering fire down the same arc as his closest subordinates, before taking cover to get on the comm-link and report the situation to Roland; jumping over the waist-high HASCO defences behind him, with blaster-trails, LMG-slugs and dust kicking up with the ceramics of the broken statues around them and giggling with childlike delight.
'TANGO DOWN!!!'
'REAP 'IS HEAD WHEN WE'RE DONE WITH THE REST OF 'EM!!!'
<"Roland, the - hunt - is - on! Happy hunting out there, the Mawites are on the offensive aw'ready; I kid you not, mate. We'll see if they're just scouts or not, just need t'punch through them is all! Further sitreps incoming - over!">
Captain Monk performed a serpentine pirouette. His Minos particle beam blaster appeared in one hand. He pointed it at Starlin with lackadaisical grace, still held against his hip yet the dangerous flash in his eyes left no doubt he was a skilled enough marksman to be certain of his shot. He polished the ornate looking glass in his eye with a silken handkerchief produced in the galidraani's off hand. Sweat dripped from a mostly bare scalp in this oppressive desert heat.
"Not so fast my cyclopean friend!" the Reclamation Service agent's voice was calm, smooth and professional laced with posh refinement, "Six months I've spent in festering jungle swamps on Yavin Four, transcribing Third Dynasty ur-Kittât scraped into rock by massassi savages a millennium ago. I will not have my academic brilliance squandered by rebel scum who pray to bloody primitive Force idols and trample over our most sacred cultural relics-"
Vector paused and scowled at the interloper, his obvious disdain joined by a fresh wave of suspicion. He had let on more than he intended. Now the Jedi cultist knew he was looking for something important. His mustache twitched in nervous annoyance. Captain Monk activated the charge on his blaster's power cell with a melodramatic flourish.
"This is a tomb world, dear fellow. Give me one reason not to make it yours."
Cyclopean? Starlin groaned. First it was “one-eyed feth”, now cyclopean. Must be karma for all the times he’d made fun of other people’s physical attributes. Was he going to have to put up with this chit for the rest of his life? Did it count as ableism? Could he sue this guy?
“Uh, I work for Professor Errik Nimdok,” Starlin replied once the bald guy stopped talking. “Ever heard of him? Used to teach Jedi & Sith History at the University of Alderaan, wrote a lot of papers and books, came back from the dead and became a Jedi? He asked me to help recover some artifacts here—after I killed all the Sith trying to get to them first… Anyway, what’s over there that’s so important you were running towards it in this heat, surrounded by screaming people with guns and knives and explosive devices?”
Starlin gestured in the direction Vector had been headed before he intercepted him. He didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by the gun the bald archaeologist was pointing at him.
ASHLAN CRUSADE BORN ON A MONDAY vol. I
Issue #7 - Bad Romance w/ Anja Doreva
Tracking a Jedi Shadow was an insurmountable task. Tracking one that lived in the shadows way before he even had a glimpse of Jedi training - even more of. Since the very first days of his recovery from Krayiss II, Dagon had made it his purpose to find Zaavik Perl
. A mixture of reasons drove him to; his duty as a Jedi, his responsibility as a friend, and for the larger part - Yula. The investigation he'd kept under rugs from the latter, afraid to bring up the details of the loss of her one eye.
After weeks spent trying to figure out his next move or even sniff a hint of his location, the raven-haired Jedi shifted his investigation's target to Zaavik's accomplice. A girl (Darth Daiara
). Since Zaavik's disappearance, Dagon was able to discover that the accomplice was not one isolated to a singular event. In every sighting of the fallen Jedi's after Ziost, Zaavik was seen with that same girl indicating the two worked as a pair. A team. There had to be something more about the two than simply working a mutual agenda. Was a romantic bond to be the culprit of his fall? Was this what the Jedi of old had warned? The questions made Dagon think more about his own attachments than anything else.
Whatever the reason, it was most certainly not a spur-of-the-moment decision. Couldn't be. Always a process. A long, tedious journey to reach that point. Dagon dug into Zaavik's reports from before Ziost; reports which had been previously classified until his defection. The Shadow's recap of his mission to Bastion omitted details. Essential details. But even he was bound to slip up under Dagon's scrutinizing eyes. The error led him to the memory stones of a Sith kept at the Jedi Temple; the same memories that had been the source of the New Jedi Order's war crime scandal. He could only deduct this was the same girl - Zaavik's accomplice. And thus, once more to Korriban beset by the invasion force of the Crusade, the Alliance, and the Empire against the Sith Remnant.
Dirt grimed his face and sweat matted his raven locks of hair. Heaving, he stopped to take a short breather and reevaluate where his target had fled to. The target? A Sith who ran off into the maze of tombs with the Academy's database of acolytes. Dagon hot on his tail. If the Jedi was to anticipate Zaavik's next move, he needed to find out more about this mysterious Sith accomplice of his. Unless she was as elusive as the Perl. Dagon hoped not.
"And that was the sixth trap you've survived, Master Kaze." Arthur, the A.I, remarked in his earpiece.
"You're counting?"
"Merely measuring your survivability and chances, Sir."
"Amusing."
"Not at all, Sir. Your chances are quite...uncanny."
Death, Darkness. This entire planet smells of evil. Sala could smell the stentch of death and flow of perverted darkness that resulted from the millenia of death and destruction wrought from and upon this world. Truly, it would be one of the hardest and greatest acts in galactic history for the Ashlans to cleanse this unholy ground of Bogan's taint, and she was eager to be a part of it. The Ashlan had been raised from birth to fight the darkness wherever it grows - using all means available her, and not to stop until death or victory.
With the taste of battle on the tip of her tongue, Sala descended upon the Valley of the Dark Lords, fluidly removing her sword from her back, its faint white glow imperceptible against the scorching sands of the accursed world. Looking at the chaos around her, she immediately dashed into the fray like a bolt of light, dodging towards a nearby tomb, prepared to meet any blade raised against her with her own.
Go wash the hand that still betrays thy guilt;
Before the spirit’s gaze what stain can hide?
Abel’s red blood upon the earth is spilt, And by thy tongue it cannot be denied; ---- Outside the Academy Cliffside
A sandstorm raged on the approach south of the Sith Academy. It had formed right after the arrival of the joint forces of the Alliance and the Ashlans, and made navigation there more difficult on the less conventional approach vector. Bernard had seen it appear out of thin air during the descent into Korriban's atmosphere, forming as a layer of permeable red ground below his feet. Almost as if their presence had struck a nerve with the world itself, and it now answered them with anger, in the form of unnaturally harsh winds.
Steering became more difficult, and part of Bernard worried that all the sand might get caught in the engines, causing them to fail and burst apart, but that fear was, for the most part, unfounded he knew. For the most part, the sandstorm impaired any navigation by visuals, and diminished dynamic manoeuvering capacities, without posing any direct risk to the occupants. Its most aggressive manifestation was the crackling against the canopy glass. Sand and wind formed a soundscape not too dissimilar to a more harsh rainstorm.
"There's a secondary way into the facility. I'll take us down close-by it," Bernard said into the fighter's intercom.
Darkness settled inside the pilot's compartment, broken only by the faint glow of light blue readouts. Any ambient light from Korriban's sun that broke through the sandstorm died against the matte black interior. The two seats inside the cockpit were slightly offset in height, the pilot sitting lower than the co.
"E.T.A. twelve-hundred seconds."
Fortunately, the sandstorm also ensured their approach would remain masked, granting them the element of surprise. In most cases, this edge alone could turn engagements around. If they leveraged it correctly, they could sustain it through repeated encounters, too. Though, something told him that might be difficult to do with Ishida's inclination for unrestrained bloodshed. When the Dark Side was concerned, the subtle type, she was not.
He began to weigh their options going forward while the red winds of Korriban continued to roll past the canopy windows, swallowing the two Jedi as they descended to its surface
Their landing spot was a hidden alcove outside the academy itself. A narrow pathway rounded the cliff, down towards a secluded area on the Academy's rooftops. That would be their entry point.
The cockpit depressurized with a hiss, and, immediately, invited the howling of the sandstorm inside. It mingled with the crackling of sand against the canopy and created a backdrop of noise that required strained voices to overcome.
"It's still there," he laughed. There was an edge of relief to his voice.
Unbuckling the safety belt, he pushed open the canopy and jumped out. White boots kicked up a cloud of dust on the flat-carved natural landing platform. A stoneway snaked along the cliffside from here, leading down to the Academy farther down, but Bernard didn't take that path. Instead, he moved towards the cliff itself, his gaze locked on something up the cliffside, tilting further up the closer he got. At the foot of the cliff, he came to a stop, staring directly up at a shape, half-obscured by the storm
"I missed you, buddy," Bernard murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Ishida," he called out, "you think we can wait a minute for me to set that X-Wing on an autopilot course back into Alliance space? Won't be long!"
Where the cliff turned to an overhang, an X-Wing was attached with special landing gear, upside down. The white exterior had lines of red that almost appeared like rust but were layers of dust that clung to the hull. The canopy, still open, held a small mound of the red sand. Overall, the fighter held together unscathed, at least from the vantage point below.
SCUMMING WITH THE GROTTHU // VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS, UNNAMED TOMB RAGS + POCKETS FULL OF DUST
~ open to interact~
"Vexok, Damsy, savaka*."
A sliver's peek through an eyelid revealed a Technobeast wrapped nearly head to toe in linen strips. Damsy had only half-joked that it made him look like a mummy. The other half was too real, should probably had stayed unsaid, and not just because the statement rang true. It also rang of raw fear to remind the work party of the Sith horrors within these tombs. They tried not to imagine the embalmed and swaddled dead amongst them, but did anyway. Tyrannical power ought stay dead when it died. "I'm not sleepin', Arisso," she informed after spitting out the desert reed she had been chewing on. "I'm brooding." The teeth were good at grinding away stress and worry, but it wasn't good for them.
"Well, you stop that too." The fellow spawn offered out and down his hand. "That's no help."
"Ay, worse case scenarios is how I think best." Damsy pushed herself from the wall she had been resting back on, maneuvered her haunches under herself, took Arisso's help, and stood. "Plus, someone has to figure out how to get us some food."
"The Sith have always--" returned to take care of us.
They're not shepherds, Arisso, actually remained unsaid. "Okay," Damsy interjected with a sigh heavier than her squaloid form's body weight. "I love ya, man, but you need to stop tripping."
He took a step closer--squeaky; so much for keeping sand out of his servos--and pat her on the side of the arm. "They'll come. Have some faith." Damsy snorted disappointment, a habit she had recently appropriated from a certain equine pet of hers; Arisso put up his hands just so, the cloth indent of smile in his face covering. "Hey, now, you can't be mad! Those were your words."
"Sure, Arisso, sure." They were, at least the spirit of them. But somewhere between letter and intent he had lost sight of the insinuation that Ashla most often helped her followers who first helped themselves. She had never preached so directly to the Grotthu** during her enslavement with this group of spawn that had disappointed the Sith, though not for lack of desire nor trying. Sharing the good word of the Lightside was damn near impossible in the situation she found herself, especially considering she didn't want to martyr herself this soon into her own journey.
But in the bowels of catacombs when their Sith masters (note the lowercase m) would disappear to see to errands more fitting of their station? As far as Damsy could tell, the walls down here were creepy but without ears. They didn't have that long to themselves, though. Their overlords always came back around too soon, not willing to let them alone for long. At least they returned with (bad) food and (spoiled) water. While not an ideal situation at all, it would do. Enlightenment came to the spawn slowly and in shattered pieces, easy to both hide from the slave collar and digest by the downtrodden hungry for a reframed world. Something new and shiny and, above all, fair. Damsy stopped short of promising that because she couldn't, not here nor there. Freedom in Jedi space was a lie.
Nwûl tash***.
This was surely not the interpretation Sorzus Syn intended, but it was Damsy's.
"What needs doing, Foreman?" Damsy knew how to respect authority, if that authority deserved to be respected at all, which Arisso did. He had kept his flock alive for years by likewise keeping their collective head down, noses to the grindstone. They had been working under a specific Lord of Eternal on this same excavation deep in the skin of Korriban for much of that time. Under the desperate depravity of the Sith, it was no small accomplishment. Damsy knocked on a wooden support beam as she passed by, following after Arisso. For continued good luck. Best of intensions aside, she wouldn't let them overtake his show. Only if and when and how he wanted her to, she would save them. With a little luck and timing of her own of course.
"It'd be easier to tell you what doesn't."
"Who's bein' a pessimist now?" A smile of her own had found her.
"Pragmatic." Damsy shook her head at the technicality. "Can I get you to sweep?" It was formatted like a question, meant to afford the slaves some small dignity that the Sith had taken long ago--consent--but wasn't one, not really. The sithspawn wouldn't say no, either for conditioning or loyalty. Perhaps both. Likely both.
"Anything ya need, boss." She took up a nearby broom and crossed her arms over the top. Sand out, stone stacked, finds cataloged...food found. "I mean it. Just holla."
Pressing the point just a little.
* wake up, Damsy, there is work to do.
** name referring to the Sith's slave caste
*** peace is a lie.
ASHLAN CRUSADE
ENEMIES: BotM | SITH
DIRECT OPPOSITION: OPEN
She had heard about the dread "homeworld" of the Sith. Hot, sand storms. All the sand. It was getting into unforgivable places under her clothes. She made a makeshift mask out of a strip of cloth she found on the drop ship. Sighing as she mentally prepared herself for the untold horrors that probably lay ahead.
As her boots hit the ground, she paused to take in the view. Truth be told, there was a beauty to the desolation. To the brown and red everywhere. In a depressed, psycopathic kind of way. She began to realize why the Sith have fought for millenia to keep the planet. It was a good place for mental mind breaking. The depressed terrain makes it easier to play with a subject's mood. Helps their personality become pliable. The Sith enjoyed that no doubt. Easily brain washed subjects.
She scowled as her thoughts swam. The Sith preyed upon the weak, in her mind. Anyone who sought to kill and pillage simply because they could, was an evil that needed eradicated. But then, the AShla were here to purify the planet. Bring the light back to the darkest, most tainted areas of the planet. Many would die in this endeavor. Jedi, Sith and everyone in between. Did that make the Ashlan right? Did that make them better than the Sith, simply because their reasons for killing were honorable?
She stepped off after the others while in the midst of a moral debate with herself. She thought it better to find the Sith Lords. Take out the head of the snake. That would leave acolytes without masters, with no one to train them. They might be savable. Brain washing could be deprogrammed. They could be taught about the Light.
Yes, she decided. Any acolytes she ran across she would attempt to save first. If they could just see the evils of the Dark Side. Maybe there was hope for them. But any Sith Lords, they would die.
Danika was glowering at the Falleen General as she waited for him and his men to get out of the dropship. "I don't see why, Mistress. You win the race every time. We can't walk through the spirit world like you." Samron Gerron grumbled.
Danika chuckled. "That's the idea, my dear."
The Falleen merely grunted at this.
The Lady of Conquest then rested her hands on her hips as she looked out across the Valley, breathing in deeply as she did so. "Can you feel it, Samron?" she asked him as she exhaled. "No, but I smell the stink of some rotten Light Sided zealot pansies and their New Imperial weedspawn." he said aloofly as he listened to the reports chattering in his ear from the Fortuna that still hung in orbit.
Danika pulled a face at him. "And we care why?" she asked rhetorically before moving forward.
Samron and the Hellions followed suit, all eyes darting to and fro behind their haunting masks. The Falleen fell into step beside Danika as she glided across the desolate landscape. "Why exactly are we here, my Lady?" he asked her. "To find any means to help further our cause. I have not been here for a very long time now, but I can assure you, some of the artifacts that I learnt to harness as an Initiate would still be here. And if all else fails, this planet is an arcane treasure trove. Spirits help me if I catch some sniveling Ashlan zealot laying their thick and grasping fingers on it." she answered, her voice turning ice cold towards the end.
Samron glanced at her as they moved. He was a hardy, fearless warrior who had faced a great manner of dangers even before he had pledged service to Danika. Yet, he could not help but feel cold at her words, even though the were not directed at him. He had seen her harness the arcane countless times, but she still surprised him at times.
He cleared his throat. "Where exactly are we headed, Mistress?" he rather asked. He knew better than to try and ask what she would do if she found some sniveling Ashlan zealot.
He doubted the answer would be a rosy one.
The Lady of Bone gave him a sinister smile. "How do you feel about a tomb network, darling?" she asked him sweetly.
The Falleen sighed. "Neither me nor the guys are particularly fond of it, as you well know. But we'll follow you as usual. We'll keep the seen occupied while you deal with the unseen. Deal?" he asked.
Danika laughed. "Deal."
What she was really after was more powerful and sentimental than she let him know. She was here for what was buried with her Master's mutilated body. Era Knox's spectre led the way into the ruined burial sites to where her own, shamed body rested.
Dani did not know if it was a blessing or if the spirits were working against her, but these lesser tombs did not draw the Light Siders like moths to a flame. Or was it the fact that the Hellions were not noticed as they had moved due to the Mandalorian craftsmanship on them? Either way, it was quiet and unguarded as they stepped inside.
But the entrance trap had already been set off.
Danika held up a hand to halt her men. "There's company in here. Be ready. These runes don't activate themselves for nothing." she told them before leading them deeper into the network.
The itch up her spine told her she was right about company.
Caulder Dune
(Friendly),
Darth Voracitos
