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When the Confederacy of Independent systems decided to murder millions of refugees on the Scintilla in cold blood, while also claiming that they might have been slaves, and therefore, their deaths were justified, they could not fool anyone but themselves. It had not been collateral damage. It had not been anything but a well planned strike while the Agents were lured away under fraudulent pretenses to Siskeen.
However, the Agents of Chaos would not respond in fear, and they would not let the Confederate Empire believe that they had somehow been weakened by their monstrous act. Instead, the Agents of Chaos decided to respond in the one way they knew the Confederacy would loath more than all - arrive to chip away more of their territory near the very heart of their sprawling empire. Before this, it had only been their ideology that had driven them forward against them. With the millions of refugees sucked into space to die a monstrous death, the Confederacy had made sure it would be personal.
And that was exactly why the next targets - Rodia and Talay - were chosen. So close to the capital they were, and yet what had been with them… Was so little. The two worlds served as buffers to protect the capital from external invasion, yet the actual gain of the planets for being in the Confederacy was so miniscule. All they were good for, was the leeching of taxpayers' money, siphoned towards wars thousands of light-years away, while the needs of the populace largely went ignored.
But no longer.
Agents of Chaos would give the planets the attention that their conquerors had never given them. And they would fight for their freedom, even if only to frustrate the Confederacy even more, planet by planet.
We announced that we were coming.
And now, we have arrived.
As the clock on Iskaayuma struck midnight, switching Primeday into Centaxday, the skies above the capital city lit up in fireworks, high enough and large enough to be seen from a great distance.
The message?
Objectives
Fleeters! There is very little worth noting on Talay. Kick the Confederate forces as far away from the planet if you can! If you have the time, you're welcome to sink the base or the old Republic outpost that exist on the planet itself. Do note, the Confederacy has issued a new order to shoot any non-Confederate ships on sight, so don't wait for them to claim first fire. Shoot first, fill out paperwork later.
Most of the ground fight will be centered in the Rodian capital city, Iskaayuma. Midnight has just struck so it's dark in the skies (except for street lights and our lovely fireworks). The city is surrounded by a dome to help deal with the extreme hot and humid temperatures of the planet. Most of the dome's contents are factory weapons and heavy smog. Factory weapons that can only make weapons for the Confederacy itself, their intergalactic business cut harshly with the Confederacy First edicts. So let's destroy their contents, destroy the factories, and leave business cards behind, offering discounts during the rebuilding, once the planet is free of the Confederate grip again.
What good is a war about undoing the clutches of an empire and taking revenge if there's no propaganda initiative to go support it? As always, we have people who will speak for the Agents of Chaos, speak for those who are stuck behind on the planet and did not have time to evacuate, and make sure everyone has a good ol' time!
A small number of Agents of Chaos wish to protect the locals and ensure no harm comes to those who did not have the privilege to evacuate on time. These people will be set up in safety areas we have opened in the form of smaller domes that are now popping up, offer humanitarian aid, food and water, and try to keep them from potentially meeting the same end that the refugees had met at the hands of the Confederacy.
The shocking words would echo throughout each and every part of space the Confederacy of Independent Systems touched. Mighty as she was, the Southern Systems had discovered rather soundly that they were not invincible. Perhaps the lesson had been humbling for some, but for many, it was a punch to the gut. The events that followed the terrorist attacks against the Ryloth and Siskeen systems had left many souls feeling bereft. Lost. As though the very air they breathed had been knocked from their lungs, stolen, and emptied into a vast vacuum of nothingness.
They could no longer inhale. They no longer felt safe. The loss burned with such cold fire that it was felt acutely by every level of the nation. From the Viceroy to the Farmer...It shook the citizens from the sturdy foundations that had been painstakingly built. It cracked the relatively peaceful existence that the Confederacy had grown accustomed to on their own soil. The fighting was always far away. Distant. They picked up the remains of the Galactic Alliance. Of Eshan. Nothing could have prepared them to bury their own en masse.
The abstract sense of loss and fear that boiled up from the ether came in a wave that seemed unending. It muddled perceptions. Changed, opinions. Stomachs that were once filled with fire and pride seemed to be touched with a new sense. Anxiety.
Shock.
The attack wasn’t simply from some nameless, faceless, random enemy. It came from those that the Confederacy had once trusted. They had come to Ryloth and Siskeen unbidden. They claimed that their occupancy was due to an Imperial presence that had corrupted the governing nation, turned them to rot, through and through. They claimed the intent had been to liberate, yet when offered mercy, when they were invited home—They spat in the face of that which had sheltered them. Tormented, mocked, and spurned the lives that were reliant upon stability, effectiveness, and transparent governance. They broke faith. They provided an environment in which acts of terror could freely occur.
Those who had become Agents were no longer family. No longer friends. They were betrayers. Serial slanderers that sought to poison the people as a whole through tricks and cleverly patched pieces of video feed. For all intents and purposes? They were enemies of the highest order. If only because they would need to be put down the hardest.
Conversely, they would be the hardest to put down.
Traitors.
Compassionate overtures had been turned down on Ryloth and on Olanet. The Confederacy had been answered with unfocused hatred and blatant assassination attempts. Countless people on Ryloth were dead. Many lost everything. Homes, livelihood, even limbs. Knights Aegis were killed en masse on Siskeen. A Viceroy, Derek Dib
, shot in the head. A pleading non-combatant, shot in the back. The motives of the Agents became clear with every word, every declaration, and every act of violence. They had never been content to wait as an unbiased third party. The only goals they held revolved around dismantling the Confederacy itself—Regardless of the lives lost on either side. Even their own people seemed to mean very, very little. They would rather go to war than to keep their own safe. At least they lived up to their moniker. Blazing with disorder and pandemonium.
Such brutality and heinous disregard for life had not been the guise with which the Agents of Chaos had come, nor the banner they claimed to carry, but it had truly become their anarchist legacy.
The Southern Systems would Never Surrender.
Never Forget.
War was here.
Even as the guillotine dropped once more, they would prepare, pick themselves up—and dig deep to find true strength. The sharpness and clarity that would be required to see this war through to the end. The Agents of Chaos had set their sights, this time, on the worlds of Rodia and Talay. The path they were intent on carving around Geonosis was not invisible to the Vicelord nor to the Minister of War. A broadcast from the terrorists was sent, warning the citizens of their intentions, and such information led to swift action by the Viceroyalty. The governing body of the CIS knew the risks of taking heed. It could be a farce. It could be a ploy to draw their eyes in one direction whilst they attacked another world.
It would have been the smart thing to do, as many argued, but they could not afford to take it as anything other than an imminent threat to their nation. Ryloth had tried to stand tall. Her people were brave, strong, and resilient. All that being said—The bravest thing that could be done occasionally meant running away. Hiding their people. Responding to every threat versus accepting risk. They had not known when the Agents would attack previously. Not specifically, even with, the intelligence from a certain Viceroy.
This time? It mattered not. They would be ready.
Measures were immediately taken to further lock down their borders. To increase security where major hyper lanes existed whilst also raising the number of patrols. The order to evacuate Rodia and Talay to the utmost had been given. Full CDF fleets and complements of offensive and defensive warfare had been deployed with the understanding that any ship not broadcasting the newly issued identification codes for the Confederacy would be shot on sight. There would be no quarter given, nor, would the Agents find the same Confederacy they had left behind.
Efforts to mitigate casualties Rodia would continue until they could be sure the populace would suffer minimal impact. Moving an entire world took time. Too much time, even with, all the space fairing vessels they had on hand. It was a frenzy of activity. Evacuation ships moved between systems, running constantly, to ferry citizens to neighboring sectors that were deemed low targets for the Agents of Chaos. The domed cities of Rodia might have been enough to keep most of the citizens safe if their enemy was rational, however, they were not.
They had already demonstrated on Ryloth that citizens were tools to be wielded. Not flesh and blood, breathing, thinking, feeling beings. They could not be given the chance to levy their own people against each other. Not again.
Talay itself was a different story. The aquatic world was largely unpopulated, though, there were still a handful of souls to relocate. Individuals on the planet were stationed there for various reasons. Some worked above the waves and some worked below. There was no telling what happened on Talay from the surface. The waters were too deep. Too chaotic. One such reason was a project, a massive communications relay, that had been established in a refurbished space station. It had crashed due to a malfunction on one of the few strips of land that existed on Talay. No part of the unit remained submerged due to Confederate ingenuity and good old fashioned hard labor. The structure had been made entirely secure, steady, by a variety of contractors and necessary adjustments. New insulation as well as heat and cold dispelling metals.
Unfortunately, as the evacuation ships cleared the base and the automated systems engaged the appropriate defense readiness condition—A mysterious signal began to broadcast on many open frequencies.
It was a glitch. One that had the engineers stumped and befuddled. Regardless, they could not stay to fix it as a full departure from Talay had been issued. The workers reported the issue to their superiors and the issue was forwarded to the Ministry of War. It was a beacon in the dark. Shining light, unwanted light, on something that could cause irrevocable harm to the Confederacy at large. The details of the intelligence that the base had access to and processed were unclear.
The only thing known for sure was that the Ministry agreed that the errant signal needed to be shut down. Hopefully, before the location of the communications relay for the Capital Sector could be discovered. There were other secrets, meant to remain buried, that lay hidden in the base as well. It would be a scramble to get the signal turned off in time.
It may have already even been too late.
Still. The Southern Systems refused to give up. Not in themselves and not in this war. More and more ships and interdictors would flood the entry points to the systems in question whilst the Droid Nation prepared itself for battle. It would rage furiously as vengeance for Ryloth and Siskeen came ever nearer. It was a fight not only for the simple right to survive but for the memory of those that had fallen in the last incursion. For their home, for their families, for those that did not deserve the hellish repercussions of nihilist creatures that had been weaponized through their own sins.
The Confederacy would not pretend that the intentions of the Agents of Chaos were anything short of savage, deviously immoral, and endlessly violent. There was no place for mercy or compassion in this confrontation. The Confederacy would awaken from its slumber with fervor and a taste for ending a cancerous cesspool created of terrorists and traitors.
There was only one response, only one answer, to treating such a festering infection. It required removal. Excision, with extreme prejudice. The Agents of Chaos are and will forever be the enemy of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
If they dare to stand against us? If they dare to darken our door once more?
Kill them.
Kill them all.
Rodia:
Fleeting for Rodia. There is a shoot on sight order for any ship that is not broadcasting CIS identification. Do not let a single ship past the defensive blockade.
We do not negotiate with terrorists. Any Agents of Chaos which make it to the ground will be hunted and killed. There is to be no quarter.
Talay:
Fleeting for Talay. Remember there is a shoot on sight order for any vessel which does not broadcast Confederacy identification. No one makes it past the defensive blockade.
Investigate the communications relay, and shut off the signal before the Agents of Chaos learn the location of the base. Also any Agents which do manage to make it to Talay’s surface will be hunted down and killed.
Tell me, when you last stood among the ashes of your nation, did you for a moment contemplate mercy? Neither did I.
Alarms were sounding throughout the Hope. Word had come through Confederacy’s networks that a large number of ships had entered Confederate Space. The AoC was arriving on schedule. Voph had taken a position aboard the Hope’s command bridge as he coordinated with the rest of the fleet. Sabine Delacroix
had been a welcome reunion in the recent weeks, and Voph was perfectly willing to accept her help in this endeavor. Now, she waited aboard the Resolve, ready to fight the Agents to the last man to prevent them making landfall on Rodia. The Civilian population had almost been entirely evacuated, in large part thanks to Voph's own efforts, leaving nothing more than a ghost town of a planet. Vylmira, Monastery, and a number of other refugee worlds had welcomed the people of Rodia with open arms. But that didn’t mean the Agents were welcome to spread their filth about its surface. Voph had personally overseen the evacuation, keeping his fleet in orbit on constant patrol until the Agents dared to show their faces. Once the final transport was away, Rodia would be ripe for the fighting. Homes could be rebuilt, after all. And no civilians meant no need to watch one’s fire. Voph found himself smiling in anticipation. It had been quite some time since he’d last engaged in a battle where collateral damage was of little consequence...
But now was not the time to dwell on the past. The AoC would be arriving any moment. And after Ryloth, Voph was confident that whatever insults they saw fit to sling at the Confederacy was little more than a cover, allowing the Agent commanders time to assess the battlefield, and begin their attack. The Agents had graciously offered eight minutes, but opened fire at the drop of a pin moments later. Voph would be keen to return the favor. As he strode through the halls of the Hope, he checked his gear. It was almost time. War was upon the Confederacy once more. But this time, they were ready. Voph arrived in the forward artillery room, where a number of Dire Wolves and Nephilim were performing final checks on their gear. Among them, Voph could see the stark white armor of those gathered under his banner for this mission. This could very well be the hardest fight any of them had engaged in thus far.
Voph paused long enough to clap one of the Dire Wolves, Sergei, on the back. What Voph had once seen as a simple soldier had proven himself to be so much more than that. After their actions on Ryloth, Voph had seen the mercenary company as indispensable, coming to the aid of their commanding officer personally, and renegotiating a new deal. This time, the Dire Wolves did not fight for the Confederacy. They fought for him. Politics had always been the biggest detriment to Voph’s fight for freedom and peace. And now, the Dire Wolves had been freed of that burden. For the most part, anyways. As preparations were finishing, Voph called out across the room, his voice carried to the other preparation zones via comlink.
”Listen up! The Agents will arrive within moments. You all have your assignments, though I regret they are not more thorough. Your end goal remains, even if the location may not. Your ideal target will be the terrorist flagship. Once you are within enemy territory, you are authorized to exterminate with extreme prejudice. Bring the ship down, and any that may reside upon it. Any efforts made in the destruction of landing parties will aid your brothers on the ground, but do not tarry on this. The Agents will likely find a way past the shield gate, at which point the ground teams will sweep through to annihilate them. If they have left the ship, they have left the ship, and they are no longer your concern. In the event that your ship is neutralized, you are authorized to exit by any means necessary and rendezvous with Dauntless Command on the surface, and retask however they see fit. Use caution, as the Confederate fleet will be firing upon the terrorist vessels, and will not discriminate between a ship carrying friendlies. Move quick, move fast, and most importantly, move to kill. For Ryloth!”
In unison with Voph’s cry, a fist hoisted into the air, followed by those of his Nephilim Soldiers. Then, the alarms sounded. The terrorists had arrived. The room became a hub of activity as soldiers and knights alike hurried to their boarding pods. Voph moved to assume his place in his own pod, shoulders compressing against the sides of the thing. His titanic frame gave him many advantages, fitting into small pods was not one of them. But this did not bother Voph. He felt the deck plates pitch underneath him. The Hope was in motion. It was time for war…
Madalena let the sweet midnight air within the Iskaayuma dome caress her face as she looked up to the skies and smiled. The fireworks had been a work of art, and there wouldn't be any who this time would try to claim they had no knowledge of their arrival. Though, outside of the Agents of Chaos themselves, only few knew they'd arrived before this very second. Much before.
In the pandemonium that occurred as the Confederacy attempted to evacuate entire populations, it had been easy to slip in. Small numbers, here and there, making it to the planet and to the city with relative ease this time around. They'd taken up temporary residency in the city, some of them hiding in back alley hotels while a few had chosen the factories themselves. It was quite amazing how the lowest of the workers were often those that were stuck behind.
But those who were considered the lowest of the low had too been evacuated to safety these past few days. Small safety centers had been set up for them, and while Madalena wouldn't claim they'd managed to move a great number of locals, they had indeed moved enough to make sure that once this was over, word would spread.
The Confederacy had held Rodia since its very early days. It was time to give Rodia some attention.
True to their word, there was not a single hair harmed on anyone during the time they'd already spent on the planet But now, it was midnight and one minute. Centaxday was beginning, and so officially, was the war for these planets.
"If you see any Confederates, feel free to shoot on sight," Madalena grinned as she instructed the Wild Hunters that were with her, "We don't have our nice gloves on today."
Grabbing her comlink, Madalena laughed before flicking the button. The frequency was open. They would know where she and hers were. It didn't matter. It had never mattered.
"Hello, sweeties," she purred. Most likely, the Confederacy had learned from the last time. There was little doubt in her mind that transmissions were probably already limited. But that was all right. All they needed was to go through this war, and then send out copies of the events. Every single one of them had nano surveillance equipment on them, already on, already active. "Let's all give a round of applause to the Confederacy, who had to be reminded that Rodia is a planet within their territories. Such wonderful attention, after all this time! I'd ask how you guys feel about being able to sell your weapons only to the Confederacy, but I'm certain they already have a shmo' on their side ready to answer that. So let's save the words this time. I am looking forward to this very much."
With that, she flicked the comm off, and took the first step out of the battered hotel, and into the streets of the capital. Other groups would be headed towards the factory. Those who were Madalena would do sweep work and take care of those who tried to get in their way.
Her entire body was lit with excitement, and only once did she give a very small cough, willing the tendrils that rose from her skin, those that only she could see since the events of Ryloth, to calm down. Jumping into another dimension had opened abilities she had never before thought were even something she could ever do on her own, and yet here she was now, her face glued back on, and small and temporary rifts opening to the Netherworld and other dimensions, sometimes without her control.
What had come before were a number of restless nights.
Previously, the Mandalorian's connection to the southern systems had been fleeting at best. He played the part of mercenary, casting in his lot with the local Guild. Odd jobs came his way - guarding this or hunting that - but nothing too high profile. It was enough that he could keep food on the table and a roof over both he and Astrid
Skov'gaard 's heads. However, that all changed when Ryloth and Siskeen went dark. Every domestic news channel had a recap: terrorists had managed to radicalize some of the natives on Ryloth. Terrorists had gunned down a Viceroy and the wife of a Viceroy on Siskeen.
And in the wake of the tragedy, business started to boom.
At the start, a hefty price was placed upon the heads of the Agents of Chaos. A monumental buffet laid out for any Hunter worth his or her salt. When the listing went up on his local terminal, Isley found himself practically drooling. There were enough zeroes at the end of some of the marks to set a man up for life. For a moment, his interest in joining the fight was purely materialistic. Outside of his friendship with Astrid, he had nothing - he was an outsider to his kin. A traitor in his own right. To this day he could not bring himself to face them. But this...this would allow him to at least live comfortably to some extent.
It wasn't until Astrid caught wind of his aspirations that a real conversation was had. She encouraged him to see this as an opportunity - not to line his pockets. But to redeem the red in his ledger. He had stood against his father. Fought - and attempted to kill some of his own siblings. What better penance was there than bringing the head of their enemies on a silver platter? Do it not for the money, do it because it is right. With that sentiment in mind, Ishmael volunteered himself when the threat came across the airwaves.
The Agents of Chaos were coming. Rodia and Talay were next.
The Viceroyalty were swift to address the impending threat. And Ishmael's service began with assisting the transition of civilians off of the planet's surface. It was quite the sight to behold: in one day, the heavens were littered with corvettes, dropships, and other vessels. Monumental queues formed with citizens being rushed out of their homes. Ishmael had his fare share of butting heads with stubborn locals; but in the end they understood the threat. This was mandatory, so that they would not end up executed like the Author on Ryloth. So that they would not end up blown to pieces by suicide bombers, or shot at by mentally deranged politicians.
The Agents were exactly what they advertised: Chaos. They could dress themselves up in the lie of liberation, but any with a braincell could see the truth of the matter. Thus, though it had taken quite a heap of effort, Rodia and Talay were bereft of civilian life. There were no stragglers. No stubborn souls who wanted to ride out the battle. There were only military personnel who were ready and eager to pay the Agents back for Ryloth and Siskeen. In the present, Ishmael found himself wandering the streets of Rodia's capital when the quiet was broken.
Fireworks lit up the sky - the Agents had come.
The Mandalorian reached into his rear-most pouch and produced a stim needle. The device was thrust into his right thigh and a growl escaped him. The fatigue of so many nights ushering the green-skinned natives began to fade instantly. The stress. The frustration. All was replaced with a sense of calm and focus. The beskar-clad warrior then righted himself, tossing the needle to the earth. His weapon of choice, a rotary blaster, was taken in hand as he marched forward. The fighting would begin soon enough - and with it, his chance at going home.
As he moved, a voice sounded through the open channel. The cocky voice of utter madness. Ishmael put the content of the drivel out of his mind, but rather engaged his jetpack with but a gaze of his HUD. Ascent gripped him thus, settling him down atop one of the many rooftops of the capital. The signal was very useful for his purposes. The barest functions of his helm allowed him to pinpoint, approximately, where the enemy was located. And, with the citizenry out of harm's way, approximate was all he needed.
Trained hands dipped to his pack. The blaster was set aside, in place of a tube and munition. Ah, how many times was it that he put one of these together? The target was set in his HUD and he angled the tube so that approximate was within the blast radius. In went the grenade - THUMP! - and off it went. The mortar was swift, burning through the air and coming towards the position of the freshly revealed Madalena Antares
. Impact would be more than enough to blow away the average speeder - let alone reduce a loudmouth to a pile of organs.
A hurried voice rang out through the military ready room that caused all of the officers to raise their heads and shift their gazes from the holotable situated in the middle of the room. Included in that group was the freshly scared, but on her feet, newly promoted commander of the entirety of the CDF forces, Luna Terrik. It wasn’t a position that was activated often, only in times of war and absolute need. War was not necessarily something that anyone wished for, but when the position was offered, the former Grand Marshal was quick to take it up, hoping that she could end this conflict as quick as it had begun.
And there was the small part of her that wanted revenge for the injuries she sustained on Ryloth at the hands of the terrorists these…creatures funded.
Fresh scars decorated her face, highlighted by the blue glow of the holographic table. Her eyes met the officers, and knew the words that would be spoken even before the passed over his lips. Still, the confirmation was a necessary aspect in the moment. “Yes, lieutenant?” The rodian held a datapad between his fingers, gripping it tightly as the whole room waited on his words. Hung on his confirmation to spring into action. They had been waiting for this moment since the terrorists had been bold enough to broadcast their intentions.
“They’re here, sir. Ships of unknown origin just appeared in the system.” It was time, then. With a nod to the other officers around the table, the room exploded into action. Comms were sent out to the forces in the dome and outside of it, giving ready up orders. It hadn’t been completely expected of them to attack at night, but the Dauntless had come well prepared. Over 150 divisions between the SLDF, BWFC, and the CDC had been deployed to make sure that if the terrorist dogs made it to the surface, they would pay for every single inch that they attempted to take.
The capital dome was well enough defended, and with the blockade firmly in place above the planet, they were very much ready for these agents of chaos now. For Luna’s part, she had passed off command of the Dauntless temporarily to one of her more trusted friends while she took on responsibilities of War Marshal. Haastal Haran
was the first to receive a comm from Luna after the room had moved into a frenzy of activity. Her voice was as calm and even keel as ever, despite the activity moving around her. “Grand Marshal Verd, I assume my….your men are ready for this? We have our sensors up and the satellites are ready. If they get through, we will know.”
Even if they hit the surface, breaching the dome, much less even making it there would be a hard task in of itself. More than half of the 50 dauntless divisions deployed here were located within the dome at the moment, while the rest patrolled just outside it. The other groups were ones that Luna needed to check in on, making sure that they were in position. Before she did, however, she spoke one last group of sentences to the man commanding her brothers and sisters. “I’ll see you at the end of this. Remember, first in, last out, the Dauntless will prevail. Never forget…War Marshal Terrik out.” With the comm closed, the redhead turned back to the holotable, keen on observing just what would be heading toward them.
Air superiority would be a key part of this conflict. The more of them that could be shot down before they even hit ground, if they got through the fleet at all, would be less they would have to deal with. While they brought the least amount of total forces, the BWFC were Luna’s go to for the moment for any sort of airspace control. It only took a few presses on the table’s built in holocomm to bring up Shuklaar Kyrdol
. She proceeded to give him a small nod before starting, knowing by now that he would have known that the threat had arrived. “You know what time it is, Shuklaar. Let’s get the airspace around the dome controlled. Spin up your ships. Keep me updated on any new developments, as well.” There wasn’t much time for conversation, otherwise Luna might’ve taken the time to listen a bit closer to however the mandalorian responded. Instead, the holocomms frequency was changed, broadcasting a call to all of the CIS forces within the area, naval or ground.
With a precursory clearing of her throat to clear up any nerves that might’ve built up from anticipation, it felt as though the ready room came to a standstill for a just a few moments. For the smallest time, it was quiet, and Luna was able to speak with the calmness and clarity needed to settle not only her nerves, but hopefully those that faced their first true conflict.
“This is the War Marshal of the Confederate Defense Corps. My name is Luna Terrik. For some of you, this might be the first time your boots have stepped on a battlefield. For others, it might be your last. Whether you sail the stars above the planet on which I stand, or are wading your way through the marshes surrounding this city, there will be a time in which you must ask yourself something. Is it today that you are fighting for? Is just this moment, where you stand there firing your blaster or man your gun, or are we fighting for tomorrow? For a time when our children, and our children’s children, and our children’s children’s children, may live leave free from tyranny. That while we may sleep in the mud today, they may sleep without fear tomorrow. I beg you to remember this as we embark on this journey together, that today we fight not only ourselves, but for those who may live tomorrow. Will you permit these scum to escape this planet to continue to drive terror into your families hearts? You will not. I know you will not. You will march to them. Meet them on this battlefield. And you will teach them that today you do not fight for yourself alone, but for your children’s tomorrow.”
The comm was sent, and the battlefield was set. Today would be a defining moment. The ground on Rodia would run red with their blood, but they would not back down. They would meet these dogs with their bayonets drawn.
“Ma’am,” Luna turned, looking to the officer that had tapped her on the shoulder. “we have reports of enemy activity already within the dome.” For a moment, she was silent, considering how ridiculous this was. How they had managed to get a force inside without anyone seeing was quite..interesting. Nevertheless, this was not a day they would enjoy living anymore. Her comm was pulled out, quickly keying in The Monster
‘s frequency. “Commander, there have been reports of an unidentified force within the dome’s confines. You are to engage with everything you have. Protect the factories, and make them pay for everything they have caused during this conflict. No quarter.”
It would be interesting to see how this would be handled, and Luna had more than enough forces to combat whatever these terrorists had brought today. A part of her wished she could stand alongside her brother’s and sisters. But that was not her role. And even if she did not wear their colors or uniform today, the Dauntless creed was burned into her heart.
It had been several days since Domino had entered the city aboard one of the returning refugee ships, for someone of her abilities it had been fairly easy to hide the small team she was a part of from the over-worked and rushed inspectors. Add in that the ships were there to take a fleeing populace off world and those people had been clamoring to swarm aboard, Domino barely had to use the force to make the trio the least interesting group out of anybody.
Now she was happily sitting behind the hermetic seals of her armor's helmet, twitching her lekku into place. These people had built a dome over their city and then hadn't bothered to pipe their pollutants out of it? That was beyond short-sighted in her opinion, possibly even criminally negligent if not deliberate. Her back to the empty apartment's wall that they'd been squatting in, Domino looked out the window and as far down the street towards the city center as she could. Even with the street lights on she couldn't make out all the high-rise buildings. Idly she wondered when they would be cut, depended on if the defenders had night optics in wide-spread use.
After the fireworks, she scaled the privacy screen back up and stepped over to the table with the rest of her equipment laid out for a last check/cleaning. Shatter pistol went into its holster, vibroknife was sheathed, her grenades palmed into pouches or clips, then with the usual clacks, she loaded the blaster LMG and powered it on while listening to Madalena's taunt to the CIS. 'You two ready?" Domino knew they would be, they wouldn't have come if they weren't, it just felt like the right thing to ask.
It was midnight black over the Factory District. The middle of the night was as good a time for any for a drink. The Corellian Whiskey that Haastal downed wasn't the best stuff he could hope for, but it was good enough for the occasion. He leaned against the Command terminal, his Buy'ce hanging from his belt as he tried to clear his mind of what was to come. Honestly, this should be an open and shut case. Ever since the Vicelord enacted the special powers granted to him by the Viceroyalty, Rodia had been an Iron Cage with an open trap. Any of the terrorists getting planetside was doubtful, but even then their escaping alive was an impossibility. Especially not with Haastal's entire command waiting in the Factory Districts.
Eight-hundred thousand Dauntless Commandos. They were an impressive force to face in a battle like this and this would be Haastal's first time commanding them. Tri-droid support units, Vulture Bomber units, and a number of light artillery units as well. All in all, it was a powerful army for one man to command. But they were barely the tip of the iceberg.
The holotable behind Haastal chirped, causing him to glance back behind him, cursing softly. "Kark..." He muttered before setting the glass of whiskey down on the table. When he turned back to the holotable he pulled his helmet on and tapped a button on the console.
The holoemitter surged as nearly ten officers appeared before the man, all of them shimmering like ghosts in the dark room. One of the officers looked to Haastal with a concerned look. "Sir, we're getting reports from all over the city."
Haastal turned to the man, his grim T-visor not telling anything of his actual thoughts. "Terrorists?" He asked curtly.
The men still seemed to be getting used to the Mandalorian's way of command. One of them coughed offhandedly before answering. "Uhm, no sir. Fireworks."
"Kark you just say to me?" Haastal demanded, turning his head in confusion. One of the officers quickly spoke up. "No, sir. They're the Agents, they've snuck onto the planet and seem to be using fireworks to get our attention." The man answered quickly.
"Over the city?" Haastal asked, being given a number of nods back to him.
"Alright. Whatever, the Factory district is going to be the Headquarters for the CDC for now. We'll re-up with High Command and find out our orders, only then do we move, got me? For now all units on alert, no one flies solo and no one moves without my orders. Goes for all of y'all." He said, pointing a gauntleted finger at the group.
"Yes, sir!" They said in unison before Haastal waved a hand at them dismissively. "Get to work, man." As the holotable went dark, the Mandalorian pulled his helmet off and tapped a button on his gauntlet. The chiming it had gave off was a special one, reserved for Luna Terrik
.
He answered it and the moment the War Marshal spoke he nodded his head. "We'll handle them, War Marshal. Just get the body bags out." He said, before signing off the com. That moment he saw a chime on the table before him. He tapped the button on the console before arching a brow. "Go." He said, causing a voice to call out to him. "Sir, we're tracking movement near our district? Do we hold?"
Haastal shook his head. "No. The rats are out and it's clean up time. Any targets in our sector get wiped out, extreme prejudice." He ordered.
"Yes, sir!" The soldier chimed before signing off.
Haastal signed into the Command Comm web. "Ok, boys and girls. It's hunting season. The Rodian natives will escort us through the streets and show us the short cuts, use their knowledge to help you out. Safira Varad, Typhan Berrezz
, and Tiria Reinhart
. Move to intercept all enemy contacts in the area, cut em down. Subject 73 Red
and Jasmille Kavos
I want you two to group your squads and stand by. Let's move people, gun down these karkin' dogs." He ordered. Haastal pushed off the table before smirking, taking hold of his glass of whiskey once again. "Game, set."
The day had long since past in which Dianah’s armour had sat unused and gathering dust in the corner of her room. It had seemed like an age ago when the suit had been crafted, side by side with her brother Ivum in their forge on Krant. Back then it had been filled with purpose, and constantly in use, and Dianah had enjoyed it. However, when she had taken up the mantle of Viceroy, it had fallen to the wayside. Politicians did not need armour made of beskar. Some part of her had always hoped it would find its place in her life again, for the occasional mission with the knights obsidian or by her sires side.
Not for war.
The ever present, and now dominant darker side of Dianah Verd, was more than pleased about the subject of war. Especially this war. More than once she had admitted to herself that Dianah did not deal with betrayal particularly well. Especially not this kind. The people she had once been foolish enough to call friends were now severe disappointments.
Terrorists. Murderers. Traitors. Petty fools who played petty games and told petty lies in order to win a war they waged for spiteful reasons, that they had, most amusingly to many, fabricated from their own hateful minds. It broke Dianah’s heart. She wanted nothing more than to cast aside any memory she had ever had of them, to black them out of her mind and her life forever. Why pay attention to or even acknowledge the existence of people like that? Miseria, on the other hand, took a more obvious approach.
Revenge.
She could think of no better way than to have it come crawling to your doorstep looking for a fight. They were content to leave them alone after Ryloth. Content to pick up the pieces of the pointless destruction they had caused. But now they were here... Why not make them feel the pain they inflicted unjustly on thousands of innocent Rylothians, make them feel regret for their abhorrent actions during the summit on Siskeen. Make them suffer. Miseria was very, very on board with this particular train of thought.
A static sound filled her comm, before the very voice of the woman she had once called friend filled her ears. Miseria was almost amused. What sick plague was plighting her mind in order for all of this to occur? “You’re a fool, Madalena Antares
.” Miseria broadcasted to all frequencies, just as she had done. “I don’t know what kind of spice you’re smoking but… wow. Just wow. I’m glad you left, I’d be ashamed to call such a disappointment a friend. You preach peace, you preach kindness… but the Rodians wouldn’t even be in danger if you weren’t attacking. The Rylothians wouldn’t have been in danger if you weren’t attacking. None of this would have happened if you and your friends had dropped their petty personal grievances. I feel sorry for you, and I hope you find it in your head to rid yourself of whatever disease has plagued you. I do miss my friend, but if I come across you while you're here I will personally see to your end and feed you piece by peice to Murugan. He favours stringy meat.”
Miseria cut the comm. She would hear no more from Madalena, or indeed from anyone else save for a few on a private line.
Striding down the empty streets of Equator City, heavy beskar clad footsteps echoing back and forth from the hollow metal structures, Miseria remarked on how eerie it was. Such a once busy and vibrant city, entirely desolate, and for what? They wouldn’t have been forced to leave, or indeed even been in danger, if the AoC hadn’t decided to attack. The last evacuation ships left long ago, Dianah had seen them off herself. Now it was home only to those here to defend it from the same fate as Ryloth. Reckless and pointless destruction. Miseria’s final sweep of the city ended at Flip of the Credit Casino. She didn’t expect anyone to be there, but knowing what the casino had been used for, if there were any civilians left on Rodia, it would be here.
A mechanical hiss sounded as the doors slid open to admit her. There should have been intolerably loud music, bright blinding lights, and friendly chatter. Instead, there was silence. Expected, but much like the empty streets Miseria had just walked down, eerie. “Hello?” She called out, at a volume loud enough to alert anyone in the immediate area. “Anyone left in here?” Now muffled by a carpet, her footsteps made a dull thunk on the floor as she crossed the threshold into the hopefully empty casino.
Location: The E'care Shukur | Defensive Blockade | Rodia System
Objective: WAR
Allies: Confederacy of Independent Systems | Kyyrk
Enemies: Agents of Chaos
Post Count: I
Ryloth had been a difficult situation to say the least in the events that had transpired upon the world. The Confederacy had done everything right, and still, they seemed to have lost the world - and though the following days had been a rush of restless activity; such activity saw the creation of new things and opened the galaxy to a new dawn, a singular truth. There would be no peace with the Agents of Chaos, and now, the woman was seemingly free to act as needed. The Confederacy was not an Empire - she had seen Empires and it was nowhere near one save for its sprawling size. The myriad of Planets within the Confederacy was free; free to govern themselves, free to enact their own laws, free for their citizens to travel as needed. The only heavy-handed stance that the Central Government seemed to take was that on Slavery, and it was a stance that she could respect - though it seemed that the Agents of Chaos, tucked away in their own little fanciful world, had apparently ignored or otherwise disregarded just because the Confederacy had the apparent audacity to speak with the Sith Empire and not immediately speak out against their use of Slavery. After all, while the Confederacy was built upon the labor and utilization of droids, the Sith Empire had been built upon the back of slaves; and one does not simply dictate to another Stellar Government that they must face Economic and Social collapse overnight just to free the slaves, a process that had to be done gradually by showing them the benefits of an automated workforce. This was apparently not enough for the Agents and was their central basis for their aggressive and Terrorist attacks upon the Confederacy.
Rodia was one of two primary targets, and it was where the woman had marshaled her fleet to meet the Agents of Chaos. There would be no posturing this time, no offering a hand or a chance for the Agents to back away as there had been at Ryloth. They'd already shown that they were more than willing to use civilians as nothing more than fodder; in fact, the Agents of Chaos had lost the moral high ground and dirtied their proclamation of fighting for freedom the moment they sided with a Terrorist organization that snuffed out the lives of countless innocents on Ryloth by using themselves as bombs. And the Agents of Chaos has the audacity to call the Confederacy 'Monsters'... Well then, perhaps it was time to give them a monster to fear, to hate, to revile, and focus their attention upon.
True the Agents seemed to easily find their way onto Confederate planets prior to their coming Invasion, however, not all of their Agents were as smart or calculable in their capabilities to avoid detection and capture. Thus it began when the channel was opened and the video flickered to life to reveal the bridge of the massive vessel that now hung over Rodia as part of the Defensive blockade. A single individual stood, bound, with two armor-clad Hellknights at their side to keep them from escaping, though were would they escape? Slowly another individual came into view, the armored figure carefully moving forward, her voice slowly slipping from the great helm that weighed heavily upon her shoulders.
"Agents of Chaos, this is Grand Marshal von Sorenn. At Ryloth I had been tempered, I had been understanding and even shown compassion when your vessels were disabled. I had offered you assistance, I had offered you a means to leave that world and return home, though that offer was received and responded by spitting in our face. Now though is a different story. I tell you this now, You will receive no Mercy. There shall be no Quarter. As long as you are on Rodia or in its space above, you will be hunted, found, and brought to ruin. You sought to use innocents as fodder on Ryloth, you have shown your colors as nothing more than mere Terrorist the moment that you allied yourself with those that snuffed out the lives of civilians by using themselves as bombs."
The woman stood silently for a moment before the viewscreen, her hands carefully slipping up and beginning to remove the great helm, its hosing hissing as they were unleashed. Slipping the helm from where it had rested, snow-white hair slowly cascade down over her shoulders as if a waterfall, while golden-yellow hues slowly peered into the screen. A soft smirk carefully caressed her lips, and this time she did not attempt to hide a single thing as her fangs seemed to glint in the soft light of the bridge.
"You think the Confederacy monsters? I tell you this, you've not seen a monster, so I shall give you the monster that you so fear the Confederacy to be. I shall become the thing that you revile and fear. For every life that you took at Ryloth, I promise you this, I shall feed upon a thousand of your agents."
Slowly she made her way around the two armored individuals that stood with the prisoner at the ready, the individual's head bent down, hands bound in front of them. The woman smirked softly as she stepped forward, standing behind the individual as one hand slipped forward, her fingers gently dancing upon their chin before jerking their head back in a firm manner to expose their neck. Peering towards the screen once more, her eyes had shifted, the emotions that had welled within her slipped those once Golden-Yellow hues into a brilliantly stunning and vibrant Blue.
"This is your only warning... You Do Not Have 8 Minutes..."
Her smirk slipped across her lips once more before she slowly opened her mouth, revealing the fangs that awaited, and as she kept firm eye contact with the screen before her, those fangs viciously sunk into the individual's throat. The curdling scream rang out across the bridge of the vessel as the individual's body thrashed in a vain attempt to escape, only resulting in the woman biting down more firmly, one hand resting upon their chin, the other on their shoulder as she seemingly feasted upon the captured Agent. Then as the body's spasms slowly began to subside, the life having been drained from the now warm corpse, she simply let go, allowing the body to fall with a squelching thud upon the deck of the bridge.
Blood coated the woman's lips and chin, trails slipping down her throat as she merely smirked softly.
If the Agents of Chaos wanted a Monster to fear, then she would give them the very thing she accused the Confederacy of being.
The screen froze for a moment upon her face, a twisted smirk of indulgence, and mixed emotions before it finally flickered out of existence, leaving the channel blank, dead air broadcasting as the buzz of the white noise seemed to slowly get louder until the scream of the individual was replayed again - the channel then fully cut out, leaving them with nothing. The vessels in orbit shifted, as the fleet awaited the Agents of Chaos vessels to arrive. They would do everything in their power to prevent a single vessel from making it through the blockade; for the moment a single vessel arrived that was not broadcasting the newly established identification codes, they would be fired upon without hesitation.
Say what you will about playing hopscotch, it's not an easy game when you're carrying so many weapons on your body while playing. Scherezade was always a fan of playing those type of silly games, but when she'd realized the hour, she knew that there was absolutely no way she was going to have to pause halfway just to get her gear on. So she played like that.
When the fireworks began, she stopped anyway though.
"Okay little dudes and dudettes," she chuckled, "Looks like I got a planet to clean for you now. You remember the way to the nearest safety center, yes?"
The small group of Rodians looked at her and nodded, beginning to disassemble and collect their belongings. They had already joined the safety center a few days ago, but had wanted to come make sure no one had accidentally been left behind. It was only when they found one more person that the hopscotch had started. Scherezade had even given them one of her bags of cheese cubes to go.
Once farewells had been given, the Sithling walked herself outside, to look at the last of the fireworks. Glowing green eyes sparkled with amusement.
There was a reason she'd been sent to this specific location and not one of the numerous others that were on the chist list d'jour. For a change, direct battle was not her goal, though if the Confederacy had an inkling about what they were supposed to do, it'd end up in a battle anyway.
A small group of Agents flanked her as they continued to walk, but Scherezade paused, and then shuffled to stand besides Larentia
. It was only the voidstone around the woman's neck that kept her from knowing exactly who she was. As it currently was, Larentia's blood told her nothing beyond Lupine.
"They're going to try to stop us," she smiled, "It's up to us to make sure they fail. We can expect bigger pew pew's from their side since we probably scared them chitless with our success on Ryloth and Siskeen. But bigger pew pew's doesn't mean victory."
Sergei was sitting in the small side room they'd dedicated to the fallen from TDW on the battle of Ryloth. He'd sat there for days on end, and whenever he wasn't training, he would come here to remember all those who'd given their lives to stop the madness that the Agents of Chaos not only incited, they'd done nothing to stop. A move that had resonated with Sergei since they'd left that place. While his men had fought for the lives on the planet below, forgoing any measures of trying to save themselves, the AoC had sat quite contentedly, and did nothing. They had simply watched as a single Light Frigate, had to take on a battlecruiser and against all odds, sacrifice itself to bring an end to the threat. He looked at all the names of those who had died in the name of that sacrifice. All of them heroes. All of them selfless saints that they dared slander and call them imperials or worse, cowards. Sergei sat there as he mentally prepared himself for the coming mission, taking each and every single name to heart. Including one of which was the dearest to him.
Rear Admiral Maximillian Clark, formerly Confederacy Defense Force Naval Command, First and Last Captain of the Aegis of The Dire Wolves.
That crazed lunatic Sergei respected above all else. He'd done the impossible to save all on the planet below. He'd taken a Light Frigate and had used it to kill a Battlecruiser. He'd done so with little to no support until the very end, while most were either forced to sit and watch or couldn't be bothered to lift a finger to stop the crime against sentience. And while it had cost the lives of everyone aboard the ship, his home, he'd upheld their oath.
We must be the sacrifice of a well trained, voluntary few, to spare the many.
Sergei couldn't cry anymore because there were no more tears left. His hand would touch the wall where his name resided. His words were barely a whisper.
"We shall never forget,"
Invasion Zero Hour
Sergei had been sitting on the command deck when the alarm started blaring. He'd immediately ran to the closest armory where his kit was located, along with a nearby gunnery station. His men and Voph's were arming themselves side by side in the room as they were doing weapons checks, pre-combat checks and inspections. Sergei himself had just suited up when Voph had come to pat him on the back. It wouldn't take a force sensitive to realize the level of rage that was flowing out of Sergei's being. He wanted revenge, he wanted their blood. He would call out to the room to get everyone's attention.
"ROOM ATTENTION!"
He would listen quietly as Voph spoke, waiting patiently as he would finish. When Sergei saw he was about to finish, he roared immediately to the room and all.
"FOR THE FALLEN!"
"HABU!" Was his men's unified roar in response.
"FOR THE AEGIS!"
"HABU!" Again they responded getting louder.
"EGO SUM DIGNUS!"
"EGO SUM DIGNUS!" With a deafening roar the men and women of the Dire Wolves Commandos answered their mantra.
"TO YOUR STATIONS!" Sergei would answer equally as loud.
This would send The Dire Wolf Commandos, both the new blood and the unnamed ones into a much more fervent and almost frenzied state. Ammo was packed, weapons had last second checks before loading their gear into their pods and setting it into place. Sergei himself would draw out his Wolf Fang blade and do a check of the blade before sheathing it and attaching it to his back. Next came his various weapons, holstering his L-7, slinging his HARM across his chest, and strapping on his various grenade belts and bandoleers of ammunition. Finally he attached his backpack with even more explosives and ammo before walking to his pod and speaking to Voph briefly before stepping in.
"Thank you,"
And with that his pod doors sealed shut. Sergei was happy that these new cannons offered a little more room than his previous pods, and while they were still a bit cramped, they were a far sight bigger than the older pods. As the pod sealed and Sergei's own life support took over, he could feel the shifts as they were moved down the storage racks of ammunition. Meanwhile across the ship, combat crews went to their stations and readied for the impending battle. Alarm Klaxons blared announcing the general quarters calls and pilots scrambled to their craft as they all sought to get into space as quickly as possible. A pilot would be sitting in his cockpit as the "ground" crews were giving signals to him telling him to begin main engine startup. The three fusial engines would roar to life as the pilot began his pre-flight checks and then signaled to the ground crew with a thumbs up. The controller nodded, signaled to the catapult crew everything was ready, and in a few seconds he would take a crouched pose as he stuck his arm out towards the hangar bay in a clear signal. Launch.
The first wave of fighters would launch from Hope in mere minutes as Black Squadron formed up in a patrol pattern around the Hope. Red Squadron was up next, followed by Gold Squadrons, their F-4 Dragons outfitted in their multi-role capabilities for both capital ship attack and Aerospace Interception. Meanwhile those on Hope would man their battle stations, the main Mjolnir cannons powering up, and going to full power. Their magazines would have rounds loaded as they began identifying and selecting targets. Hope would even fire up its engines as she went to full military power. It was time for revenge. And unlike before where Sergei and his wolves had been chained by wishes of peace, the AoC had thrown those rules out the window. They had proven they were animals. And on the pain of death Sergei remembered what he'd learned so, so many years ago when he was still a trainee on his home world.
'Men are arrested and tried. 'Men are given rights as prisoners of war, and are treated as honorable combatants.
Attire: This Location: Orbit of Rodia Equipment: Lightsaber, Mask, Ring of Splinters Enemies: AOC Allies: CIS TAG: Open
Rodia, hours earlier the Vicelord had summoned the Viceroyalty and announced that Rodia would be evacuated. That task had been completed at this point, while in orbit hung the massive CDF Resolve. The ship had her starboard side facing the planet and her escorts secured her flanks and shielded her front if any attack were to present itself.
Their commander, however, was not to be found upon the bridge; instead, she would be found in the meditation chamber. If any had dared follow her in they would see Sabine kneeling upon the floor with only a faint dripping sound reverberated in the room. Formless shadows cast over every surface and plane of the room, which seemed to move of their own accord. The blonde Sith drew the last sigil in a long-forgotten script upon the deck of the ship, and remained kneeling as her comm’s chirp broke the silence.
“Ma’am Agents of Chaos, have arrived in the system, we have confirmed that somehow they managed to get planetside.”
At the news, her normally blue eyes shifted to amber. Already the Darkside weighed heavily over the ship, but the darkness would only grow now. The woman rose from the floor in one fluid movement and without moving more than to stand she uttered the words in a voice that was not hers, not the Sabine that either Voph or Vytal had met. This voice was different in that it spoke with power, as one who had walked upon the ashes of empires over the span of millennia annoyed at the trifles of a galaxy rife with ambition, but so far beneath her; and yet there were those that dared to have her raise her hand.
“Lieutenant, call me Darth Phral or Sabine but do not call me ma’am again. Launch our alert squadrons only and set the fleet to high alert. I do not know how they managed to get past us but we will see to it they do not leave Rodia alive, alert me if anything else enters the system. otherwise, I require absolute silence.” As the final drops of blood ceased to flow from the wound in her hand, the wound began to close and she glanced at the glyphs written in her own blood at her feet, the surprise she had crafted would wait, for now, disappointing but it would present itself in time.
Then she knelt back down in the center of the glyphs, a lack of an opponent in space simply freed her to direct her attention to the planet below and interfere as she saw fit, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as she reached out through the force to the many soldiers stationed below her. Once the battle meditation began in earnest they enemy would be hard-pressed by Confederate forces in battle, as she brought the sum total of her knowledge of warfare and used it to bolster her allies, conveying faith in their cause, strength, coordination, and even anger and through it all she pushed an overriding thought into their minds never forget Ryloth and Siskeen but overall never forgive.
Willam Forlon sat in his office aboard Justice looking over the attack plans he had been sent by Raymond Mosses. "These idiots" he said to himself as he looked over the plan. He had only talked with the military commander of the organization once to offer his assistance. He had gotten reports of the operations they had performed in previous months and they had intrigued him. The powers that control the galaxy have become corrupted and bloated under their own weight. Hungry entities that fed off the people to feed the elite. Even the so-called LIght Side powers still to some degree had an unequal balance when it came to equality among their citizens. Forlon had seen this in the final days of the Republic. Before it was brought to its knees by the One SIth and Mandalorians years ago even the great Republic had become decadent in its practices and corrupt in its ruling. As he left the Republic with his entire fleet he watched it burn and fall behind him knowing there had been no way to save it. It had become something beyond repair. Something that needed to die. Now a dead later the powerful once again pray on the less so. Across the galaxy, he has seen it. His long years in hiding, waiting. His planning and preparations had culminated into a hammer force now and it was time to drive the corrupt and tyrannical out of the galaxy.
he closed the pad and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knew the organization was a band to freedom fighting rebels and expected some fault in their plans. He had read all the reports about them from Mosses. He had looked for the traitor Stela'shlit'nuruoto when he arrived and found the Chiss building ships for the Chaos force. He had left the man to his business for now. But one day there would be a recognizing between him and the Chiss. For now, he would take advantage of having a large force to destabilize at least one of the corrupt superpowers of the galaxy.
Willam pressed a button on his desk and a man answered immediately. "General?," the man replied over the comm channel. Willam waited a second then responded. "Form up the fleet, we will be departing within the hour," Forlon said then shut down the channel. "Now which target will we pick," he asked himself out loud. He considered the three he had been given then picked one. "That will work" he said them pressed the comm channel once again.
"Captain, once we have formed up, set your course for Talay"
OOC forgot to change the account sorry. I will reply next time with Forlon.
This had not been what Eenia had moved on for. This was not what she had left Kashyyyk, and her life behind, to become a part of. In fact, she had moved on for quite the opposite. To be rid of past troubles that drug her down; fights, troubles, anger. She had moved on to escape the anger that continuously crept up on her. That tinted the edges of her vision at random, and made her seeth silently over the things she had no control over in her life and her past. The anger that had made her less of a person, less of herself, that made her do stupid and careless things that ultimately hurt the people she cared about. She had moved on to get away from everything that had tainted her past few years out of fear of what the anger may cause her to do again.
Yet here she was now, aboard a ship she did not recognize, silently seething in anger all over again.
While the idea of an invasion should have churned Nia's stomach, it was quite the opposite. She was gentle by nature, a Healer and typically focused on that very fact. It's what got her through those really rough days, after all. But this? A senseless invasion, driven by whatever means that she may not understand? No, she could not just stand by and not participate in doing something about this.
Admittedly, part of her reasoning for being present at current was due to the new - or not so new to her, really - guidance she had found. While she had not been under Voph's tutelage very long now, she was ever the good student. She had not been forced to come along by any means, but the situation had been spelled out for her, and Nia had easily made her own decision over the matter. There had been great concern from her over the innocents of this planet and what would happen to them when all hell broke loose, but luckily there had been good news on that front. The citizens of the planet were all mostly evacuated, and those that were left were boarding a ship for take off as well. There would be no innocent lives left upon the surface, no casualties of those who had nothing to do with any of this. This information had both eased Eenia and hardened her resolve.
The blonde was pulled from her reverie, not when speech had filled the air, but when shouts had done as such. While it had surprisingly not startled her, it had indeed gathered her attention and made her pull immediate focus. Her mind reeled back far enough to get the gist of what was going on, to follow orders - though admittedly her stomach twisted at the idea of not getting away in time. Regardless, Nia moved when given the go ahead to do so, and was reminded all too quickly of the armor strapped to her frame. While not uncomfortable, it was most certainly not something she was used to by any means, though she was most certain she would get over that fact quickly enough. The boarding pod for her was examined for just a moment, and then with a noise made in the back of her throat she fit herself within it. Being of smaller frame she fit far more easily within than most would she was sure, though the armor she wore did not make the fit anymore comfortable for her.
The sensation of the ship moving caused Nia to exhale hard and close her eyes; she still wasn't used to the way space travel felt, no matter how close or far the destination. But the blonde took a deep, steadying breath and braced herself. There had been very little moments in her life where she had faced a situation like this, but here she was, ready to hit this one head on.
Centuries ago, when Razor was a freshly assembled unit, it had participated in many high profile operations. The Clone Wars were a turbulent era - and the droid's masters were just as concerned about the property as they were about victory. To this end, a rather vicious device had been created. A weapon that could burn away all traces of the adversary, whilst leaving infrastructure behind. Defoliation was a process the Jedi would deem brutal. It was a weapon that even the Sith did not regularly employ. But after the terrorist assault on Ryloth and Siskeen, the Confederacy had tired of the antics. Now, Razor's superiors had sent orders directly into his processors - to use that ancient weapon and to purge the cancerous Agents of Chaos. They were a tumor, choking the life and attention of the Confederacy. They would be cut out.
Brazenly, they announced their intent to assault Rodia and Talay.
Wisely, the Confederacy had completely evacuated both worlds in anticipation of the assault. There were no stragglers of Confederate origin. No citizens. None who the nation cared for who could be caught in the flames. There were only the Agents, and whatever tricks they had brought to the surface. For Razor, its orders began at the time of the evacuation. It rode astride a Defoliation tank, sweeping the streets with lifeform scanners. From basements to attics to alleyways, the Droid had been assigned a route to ensure that all had been evacuated. This was a route it had repeated for days, along with so many others of its kind. In the present, the planet was barren of its people - but this was only temporary. The enemy would be purged and peace would return.
So began Razor's operation in the present.
Like before, it sat astride a DDT as it rumbled through the city streets. Both Razor and another commando were busy at work, now using their life form scanners to determine if any of the enemy had managed to slip through. What, with their explosive introduction to the planet via Fireworks and all. For a time, all was quiet. That is, until Razor's comrade buzzed. Scanning Positive. Razor turned, setting its photoreceptors forward. It, too, could clearly see the blip behind the building before them. The lifeform was standing, with head tilted upwards at the fireworks above. Razor zoomed in...there were more blips underneath. A sum of bodies it couldn't quantify at this distance - but a sum nonetheless.
This was its route.
These were no natives.
Orders were Orders.
Fire.
The DDT aligned at once and let fly a single shell. It easy arched over the building before them and came crashing down upon the pavement a mere stone's throw away from the first lifeform (Scherezade deWinter
). A wave of fiery decimation erupted from the shell, one that would curiously wash over the pavement and buildings without so much as a char. Yet the native grasses planted to beautify the streets saw an instant end. The decimation crossed the distance at an explosive pace, hungrily attempting to devour the Agent and to seep into the opened basement below. Fire would seem to claim them all. To reduce them to nothing. But leave behind a dwelling perfectly fit for the return of its rightful occupants.
The boom was more than enough for its comrades on other routes to detect.
More than enough for them to report it over the comms.
Like the twin suns of Thyrsus from whence he came, the young Sun Guard rose and emerged from the amber lake. The mornings on his homeworld were often quiet. There was a certain serene calm to the start of a new day. When the sun rose the fire of a Thyrsian was lit, and he kept that fire burning as deep into the night as he could. But this conflict had done something to Theo’s fire. This evening he bathed late, knowing the Agents of Chaos were creatures without honor and were likely to strike when the sun did not shine.
Oh, but there would be fire this night.
The young warrior’s breath was uneven as he donned his armor. The desire and excitement of the coming battle burned within him. He had heard of the dangerous Madalena Antares; the Confederacy saw her as a criminal, but her list of crimes only showed that she was someone worth fighting. Morality, sin, virtue -- all would be burned away in the purifying fires of combat. This was a woman worth seeing in truth. When he found these lurking creatures they would see his light, and those unworthy would be cleansed.
His shields clasped to his forearms, his helmet fit easily onto his head, and his fingers curled around his pike. Even in the darkness his gold armor glittered. The Sun Guard’s fire smoldered without a battle to fight, but he was patient, even as the effects of the battle oil raised his heart rate and made him shiver.
Théodoro’s life was on fire, and tonight he sought someone to fan his flames.
They were sneaky. Silent as the night, the Agents of Chaos crept forward through the empty streets of Rodia’s capital, most of the buildings long emptied by the evacuation of the planet by the Confederacy. Theo snorted. Once the Rodians had been fearsome, warlike; a race that would not hesitate to defend their home against invasion. But now? They’d run with their tails between their legs, desperate for aid from the Confederacy. If all it took was a little fire to scare them, it must have been a miracle for their civilization to last so long.
The fires of war showed the true nature of all. Cowards and heroes both faced the same fears, but only the hero could turn his fear into flame. Thus Theo stood tall in the center of the street, his pike resting in his right hand as he waited for contenders who sought to snuff him out. He stayed several blocks from the weapons factory in the city. It was the obvious target, and soon he was proven correct -- the sound of Madalena Antares’ voice sounded through the comms channels, and it only took a moment for him to see roughly where the terrorist was coming from.
Under his helmet his eyes blazed like the twin suns of Thyrsus, and none could hide from his sight.
The first of the Agents of Chaos’ advanced party reached him, one peeking around the corner of a building at him and raising their blaster. The agent’s body armor hid them from his sensors, but he was reminded that they were new to war -- as only a novice lacked a helmet. He could see the heat radiating off of the agent’s head. Unfortunate that his fire was to be snuffed out so soon.
The muzzle of the blaster flared just as Theo moved, sidestepping the shot easily. Even in the darkness, he could practically smell the agent telegraph his attack. A moment’s hesitation cost the man his life. The Sun Guard drew his disruptor and shot the agent. It struck him in the head, and once the bright light of Theo’s weapon had faded the agent had turned to ashes. Another stepped out of the shadows, weapon raised, but Theo was faster and another pile of ashes formed where his disruptor had struck.
A projectile hurtled out of the window of one of the nearby buildings, round and with a small red dot. Without hesitation Theo activated his shield and batted it back where it had come from at twice the speed it had come towards him. The imploder tore the building down. In the light of the explosion, the golden armor of the Sun Guard shone bright as the sun.
The agents had lit their fires, but without the fuel to sustain it the sun set on their time in this galaxy. Tonight there was someone greater that he sensed. As more approached, Theo’s helmet retracted such that they could see his face. He slammed the butt of his pike into the ground and roared out a challenge.
"My name is Théodoro Pirran! I am a Sun Guard of Thyrsus. Madalena Antares, I know you have come this night! Face me in combat. Defeat me and you may pass. Refuse my challenge, and I will tear through your forces myself." His helmet came up to cover his face once more and he hefted his pike. The sound of further battle erupted not too far away; a grenade sounded off where he’d guessed Antares was. Blaster bolts spat from their weapons as the Agents met with the Confederacy.
But Theo?
Theo was building a fire. Every day he trained, he added more fuel. And tonight? He lit the match.
Rodia. It was not a planet that Shuklaar had ever wanted to visit in his life. There was nothing about the shabla planet that attracted him to it. The shabla terrorists on the other hand, hadn't quite given him a choice. If this was going to be the planet they chose to die on, then so be it. Shabuire had caught them by surprise on Ryloth, and if he'd had the slightest inkling of what was to come he'd have brought more than Saram Kote
and Davaab squad with him. They'd hit Ryloth bad, and he'd heard the news from Siskeen.
There were those who'd doubt why he felt so strongly about this. The confederacy had taken them in, given them a place to stay, a cause to fight for and a people to defend that weren't just their own. For the first time in a very long time, both Shuklaar and the Mandalorians of the Breshig system felt responsible for others than themselves. It was for that reason that when he'd heard about this he'd put together this ad hoc force of commandos and pilots and made best speed for Rodia. Nyles was supposed to be right behind them with the Darasuum Morut and a few ships to back them up. Unfortunately, he'd just received word from Nyles that they were going to be delayed. Which was just shabla perfect.
Shuklaar waited in one of the terminal buildings that had been set up as a temporary command post. Al'verde Ragar Nihut'tyr, his second in command and apparent 'bodyguard' and his squad of Vornskr Mirshir-Jurkad Rammikade stood nearby. No word had come in yet that the shabuir had been sighted, and so they were playing the waiting game. Ragar didn't quite show it, but he knew the commando was itching for a chance to fight. The holotable in the center that had been connected into a field portable Manda Tactical Battlenet 'ground variant' module and was displaying data and vid feed from the various sentries.
He was just about to see if he could raise Nyles again for a more up to date status report about their reinforcements when the holographic display focused on one of the sentries' vid feeds, showing what looked like...fireworks? All he could make out was that a message had been spelled out, but not what the message actually was. "Whose di'kutla idea was it to set off shabla fireworks at this hour? I'm going to shoot the shabuir myself, I swear to the Manda," he spat, annoyed that someone was actually stupid enough to do something like this. He barely had time to even process what he heard when his comm unit went off, the holotable displaying Luna Terrik
.
“You know what time it is, Shuklaar. Let’s get the airspace around the dome controlled. Spin up your ships. Keep me updated on any new developments, as well.” The comms cut out before he could get a response out, but that suited him just fine.
"Hah, looks like the terrorist shabuire finally decided to show their face! Time to earn our pay, eh Alor?" said Al'verde Nihut'tyr as he got to his feet and picked up his PPC-01 Phased Pulse Cannon. He and Ragar exchanged a quick glance before he added, "Ni malyasa'yr tsikador cuun ramikade."
Shuklaar looked out at the airfield where most of their aircraft that weren't already out on combat air patrols sat ready. It was finally time, and he'd have to do without his reinforcements. In any case, he knew that he had the pleasure of serving alongside some of the finest commandos in the galaxy. If he couldn't hunt down a few terrorist shabuire with what he had, then he sure as haran didn't deserve to be in command. "Rammikad 6 to all callsigns, prep for take-off. All fighter callsigns, take off and set up a cordon around the dome. Nothing leaves, and nothing enters unless you hear otherwise from either myself, Haastal Haran
or Luna Terrik
. I want our recon droids combing through this shabla city! We're going to find these shabuire whether they want us to or not! All bomber and gunship callsigns, wait for troops to board. Remember, vode, Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur! Oya manda!"
As Shuklaar boarded the gunship, he watched as vast number of R/IS-01 'Nuhaatyc' Reconnaissance/Infantry Support Droids took to the air, heading into the city. He couldn't count them, but his HUD told him there were about one hundred ninety two of them. He sat down, and watched as Ragar knocked on the door to the cabin, signifying that they were all aboard, more out of tradition than actual requirement. He could feel the gunship rise into the air, external camera feeds being instantly made available to him via the Manda tactical battlenet.
They flew in silence, the commandos all checked their weapons and equipment one last time. The intercom came to life, disturbing the silence, "Alor, reports are coming in about hostile forces in the industrial district at one of the arms factories. We've got a decent fix on their position."
That was hardly surprising. Shuklaar did know one thing, however; he was not going to let either of them live to see daylight. "Rammikad 6 to Rammikad Alpha 6, Rammikad Bravo 6, Werlaara Alpha 6 and Werlaara Bravo 6. We're going to pick up a patrol pattern. Rest of you are going to see if you can lend a hand at the industrial district. Oya, vode!" A chorus of 'oya' answered him back as the gunships split up. Four headed in the direction of Madalena Antares
and the four with Shuklaar broke off in a patrol pattern, deliberately avoiding the areas where friendly forces or their recon droids had reported were clear of insurgents.
It wouldn't be long before the gunships arrived on scene. Neither set of pilots waited for additional orders from Shuklaar or Ragar. They already had orders to open fire on anything that wasn't broadcasting a friendly IFF. So fire they did. Flying in an 'arrow' formation, only their front two turrets could be brought to bear when they were in weapons range. Fire from eight RHM-04 Repeating Heavy Mass-driver cannons sprayed both positions with high caliber deadly baradium high explosive rounds before a quartet of Getnayark'a-class Guided Air-to-Ground Plasma Missiles was unleashed at both targets.
Edited to reflect that the gunships haven't fired at Domino
's position as of yet. Once more, genuine mistake, my apologies.
Felurian wasn’t too invested in politics, nor was she much invested in the Confederacy. She had yet to find the same patriotism others had. There was no question of her loyalty, it just didn’t quite feel like home yet. She was still attempting to grow used to her freedom, there was little time to decide which party was right or wrong. Or whether it even mattered.
In the case of this particular war, regardless of her loyalties, it didn’t matter to her in the slightest. The Agents of Chaos were a waste of time, as far as she was concerned. If it weren’t for the fact that her Master had demanded her presence, Felurian would have stayed at home. Nevertheless, here she was. At the very least this battle would be practical. She always jumped at the chance to practice her skills or better her fighting. If she could see no other use for it, at least there was that.
She didn’t much care for space travel, but the Hope was rather luxurious in comparison to the other ships she had been on. Standing silently Felurian listened to Voph’s speech, containing the orders she had already poured over a thousand times in her room. She had always been willing to admit when there was something she didn’t know, and while she was more than certain of her capabilities, she didn’t know anyone from the Agents of Chaos. As far as she was able to ascertain her master had known a few of the members personally, so Fela had taken extra care to read up.
With their orders dished out, Felurian still said nothing, and instead turned to follow her fellow apprentices. There was quite a gathering now, nothing that Fela hadn’t expected. A blonde woman with a soft face passed her by, she hadn’t the chance to learn her name yet, but she slid into the boarding pod next to hers. A little taller than most, she had always found escape pods or boarding pods or pods of any kind a little uncomfortable to sit in, but that was by the by. Rodia wasn’t too far down, and the journey in these kinds of things was always quick.
As she strapped herself in and the ship began to rumble to life, she pondered what it would be like to walk around a city that had been entirely evacuated of any civilians. With only military presence remaining, she imagined it would be a ghost town. The perfect playground for causing some havoc.
Larentia wasn't playing, head tilting drastically as she observed Scherezade deWinter
play the game in full armor. In truth, the Lupine had seen stranger things; this was without question but this would certainly reach a high place on her list. Without question. She still observed, time was counting down to the true fun of the evening; the warrior hungry to wield her blade tonight. Last time, their actions had brought the deaths of a traitor and an ally, betrayal, and the mass slaughter of innocents. In all of this, they were made out as the villains by the Confederacy, with several of them, including Katrine, Scherezade, and Madalena with high bounties on their heads. The rest of them obviously hadn't been that interesting, which was fine. Larentia was a special case, to say at least...
However, there was a thing she disagreed with. It was the early days' public announcement of the upcoming war by the Agents, allowing their enemy to prepare. She did not agree that it was a strategically wise decision to inform them of this. Innocents had perished before, and now they were giving their enemy a chance to prepare? It seemed foolish to her. Because tonight - Rodia had to fall; and Larentia did not take that thought process lightly. One step towards changing their futures had already transpired. Ryloth had been freed. Now, Rodia had to be freed. The Empire had to fall, the map needed to be altered. The Agents were an anomaly in the history of warfare, unregistered in the history books Larentia had read growing up. Therefore, she put her faith in - history had to change.
Fireworks began, her head rising as her gaze focused upward to the sounds. Scherezade heard them as well, stopping her game before she instructed their companions to leave them and head to the safety center.
The Lupine remained in the back as the girl said her goodbyes, then followed her outside. Their relationship was one of affiliation, Larentia considered. She was well aware of her history of a triangle that had occurred, so she wondered how Scherezade felt about the whole thing now, even about the result of that situation. Larentia had considered she should never remove her amulet in front of the deWinter girl. Time will tell, the Doashim Shaman decided long ago, following after the Sith side by side as the other brunette spoke. They're going to try to stop them, Scherezade spoke the truth; reasoning their previous victory to cause an effect on the Confederates.
"I still disagree with the early announcement. Their actions on H.O.P.E. were monstrous, the element of surprise would have served us better," the General of the future offered as they kept on. She was, however, not a General of Chaos, and as such, her opinion was just her opinion. Larentia accepted this and moved on. Yet, her consciousness would not permit her to remain quiet.
Quiet.
The moments of silence between them had been beneficial as a distinctive sound entered her sound parameter, head-turning to the side just for a quick second as she observed the sound. The gust of wind, the dance of a fast-moving object. Larentia could not foresee the impact it would cause but she could see the incoming danger. "Hold hands now!" The Lupine had roared, the first of the hands to her side being that of Scherezade deWinter
. Of their companions, three more joined from each side as the woman summoned the Force to her aid and they sped out of danger just a milliseconds before the impact. Her warning had been enough, the remaining two companions at their side had bolted out of trouble, but would be injured none the less, as Larentia ran out of the radius of the impact.
TK-1104
5U-K5
A'Runda
A'Sura Den
Al'Taylor Quarnz
Adaraa Undulee
Alyva Terrix
Anesia Jy'Vun
Angelo Cavataio
Annasari
Anse Baenshaol
Aoife Ironborne
Ashla Vella
Aster Jen'allé
Aston Jacobs
BB-610
Bedrovelse Hevn
Brie Jaxx
Romund Sro
Bryn Celli Ddu
Bundori
Cadan Keggle
Celestine deWinter
Custani Valcho
Kainan Wolfe
Derek Dib
Dexter Zytros
Dr. Droideka
Dyre Redwave
Syrenno Maraan
Eldoc Quasat
Eli-Mae Forrest
Erden Tarkhan deWinter
Eryn
EW-031
Finette Frai
Gat Tambor
Gna Grimwasp
Hanna
Ingrid L'lerim
Izwi Kutaurira
Jai'galaar Gred
Thalia Senn
Jaranamo Sal
Jin
Judas of Vahl
Kamyrin Gyvolis
Karlie Lynn Destat
Karma Jayne
Katrine Van-Derveld
Keshar'atar
Kyrinov
L8R
Larentia
Lash
Lieutenant Walsh
Luna Vega
Bast'rom'arosti
Madalena Antares
Maximus Kreel
Middenface McNulty
Moe
Muad Dib
Myrium Okar
Nashiro Tsuia
Nerium
Neyana
Nighthaunter
Niki Priddy
Nyree Justice
Octavius Bellator
Petra Cavataio
Pom Stych Tivé
PrincessNatalie
Qaheesh the Scorned
Darth Kalyptos
RadioWhisper
Rashae
Raymond Mosses
Razelle Breuner
Be'iqaronn
Ruby Sky
Salem Norongachi
Sasmay Cull
Scherezade deWinter
scifipoinsettia
Sentiri
Seraph Sin
Sir Orionus
Strider Garon
Sussh
Tae-Rai
Tanno Rand
The Third
Tek Kkak
Thalliesin Bard
The Bridesmaid
Tobias Dib
Ursula Vizla
Vale Vynar
Valkur
Vaulkhar
Wegli Jinrang
Will Westender
William the Bloody
Wonderworker
Xandyr Carrick
Xenro
Zachariel Steelblood
Zaldros Sabolte
Zel Nar
Zenva Vrotoa
![House-Verd.png]](https://i.ibb.co/XY5FZ6c/House-Verd.png])
