Private Grim Preparations

[Darth Imperius]

T H E M E​

Edge of Unknown Regions | Ascension
Hellmarch

Ascension filled the void between the stars with its own lights and those of the ships in a constant stream of traffic. And it was not alone. The First Ascendant Fleet had gathered, for the first time, in force for a new assignment, a new operation. A new purpose. While the Second was assigned to aid the Dark Imperials and was slowly being reinforced to proper strength, the First had been at full strength shortly after the taking of Ascension. The Sith Mechanicum having worked tirelessly to procure resources and produce ships at an alarming rate, pushing back orders from across Sith space.

Darth Imperius stood with his arms crossed in front of his armored chest in the headquarters of Ascendant military operations, the Central High Command. Without cape or sword, he almost looked twice as big as he was, a figure in dark metal emanating an aura of fear and dread, his cold, black stare observing the gathering of the forces and with no doubt doing multiple things at once. The center was a pit with a large holotable, surrounded by rows of staff officers working on their stations, maps, trajectories, comms and many more tasks being pursued by the red-black clad officers. There were more pits, though smaller and meeting rooms nearby, largely unused due to the limited amount of military operations the Ascendant Order had so far, but Imperius fully expected them to be used sooner than later.

The new campaign they had prepared needed to be finalised, they were on the eve of its beginning and they moved into the final stages of the preparations. While Imperius was more than keen to do it on his own, more than able, he could not be everywhere at once and he had to deal with the Dark Empire and their transition as well. There his presence was required far more than here, but one should try to stop him from overseeing the last checks of readiness for the Ascendant Crusade.

 

[Hellmarch]

Tags: Darth Imperius

Lord Militant.

The title meant little to most, a mere designation of rank—authority given, and authority taken. But to him, it was a mantle well-worn, an identity forged in the fires of countless wars. The Sith Ascendant Order had bestowed it upon him, as had many before them. He had seen the title rise and fall in meaning across the ages, wielded by warlords, despots, and would-be conquerors whose names had long since faded into dust. Yet, for all its history, for all its weight, it granted him the only thing that truly mattered.

The right to wage war.

Where others craved power for its own sake, Hellmarch sought only conflict—the ceaseless march of war, the orchestration of devastation upon the enemies of the Ascendant Order. It was not mere violence that drove him, nor ambition, nor the indulgences of the Sith who schemed and clawed for supremacy. War was not something he desired; it was something he was.

The metallic thud of his boots echoed through the command chamber as he strode onto the floor of Central High Command, his every step measured, purposeful, inexorable. Officers and strategists flanked both sides of the chamber, their whispered discussions silenced at his approach. They acknowledged him with crisp salutes, though they received none in return. Hellmarch did not salute. He did not engage in the pomp of ceremony. He was beyond it.

His gaze—if one could call the cold, unblinking glow of his visor a gaze—fixed upon the lone figure at the center of the chaos. Darth Imperius. The Dark Lord of the Sith Ascendant stood like a monolith, a presence that demanded obedience without a single word. Lesser Sith and officers scrambled to provide reports, issuing orders to the war machine of the Ascendant fleet. But Imperius remained unmoving, an unmoved bastion of control amidst the storm of preparation.

Hellmarch approached with unwavering precision, closing the distance without hesitation. He moved not with reverence, but with the unshakable certainty of one who had no need for pleasantries.

At last, he came to a halt before the Dark Lord.

"Lord Imperius," Hellmarch intoned, his voice a hollow, mechanical rasp filtered through his warplate's voice modulator. It carried no inflection, no warmth—only the unrelenting cold of eternity. He lowered his head in a brief bow, a gesture of respect stripped of all excess.

"I was not made aware of your intention to inspect the High Command today."

It was not a complaint, nor a challenge—merely an observation. A statement of fact, precise and unembellished. Hellmarch did not ask unnecessary questions. He merely sought what was needed to carry out war.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Hellmarch

Imperius' eyes looked towards the approaching figure. "Lord Militant." The words came without emotional expression, a statement as clean and direct as that which he been given by the individual. The Ascendant Order was more than gifted to have soldiers like Hellmarch, even though such gratitude or appreciation would never be expressed in a foolishly charming or ego stroking way. Service and duty are rewards in their own right.

"I am seeing personally to the finalisation of the preparations for our expedition into the Unknown Regions. It would be negligent to yield such undertaking to our officer corps alone. You are free to begin your briefing on the status of our recruitment and training of our soldiers that led up to the Crusade."

The Dark Lord was fully aware of the program he had initiated together with some of the members of his powerbase, but since it was handed to Ascendant Order personnel, it was out of his direct oversight.

 

[Hellmarch]

Tags: Darth Imperius

Hellmarch inclined his head slightly, hands clasped behind his back in the precise posture of a seasoned commander. His every movement was measured, purposeful—an entity built for war, for order. He did not carry datapads or holosheets; he had no need for such things. Every detail of the coming campaign, every logistical projection, every deployed asset was committed to memory with unerring precision. Preparation was not a necessity—it was a certainty.

Without delay, he began his report, his voice a steady, mechanical cadence, devoid of doubt or hesitation.

"The First Phase of the Crusade nears completion. Naval assets stand at eighty-seven percent readiness, and ground forces are at ninety-two percent muster. Three Sith Trooper Legions have been assigned to spearhead the offensive. At my direction, two of these are freshly founded units—raw but capable. The third is a hardened veteran force, selected to act as the foundation upon which the others will be tempered. Order within chaos. Strength drawn from experience. This will allow us to keep additional veteran forces available for rapid response to other theaters."

Hellmarch's tone remained impassive, unshaken, as he continued. "Seventeen priority worlds lie in the projected path of the Crusade. Our reconnaissance elements are already in place, conducting initial assessments. Naval probing actions are underway, testing the weaknesses in regional defense networks. The enemy's response has been predictable—scattered patrol routes, fragmented oversight. Resistance, as expected, is inefficient. Their weakness is structural. Exploitable."

For a brief moment, he tilted his head slightly, the gesture almost unnatural, as if shifting through a thousand calculated contingencies in his mind.

"Minor development." The words carried the weight of an afterthought, as though what followed was little more than an inconvenience. "Survivors from the Oasis Station engagement have begun forming a resistance cell. Unanticipated, but inconsequential."

Hellmarch neither frowned nor showed frustration. Obstacles were not to be lamented. They were to be eradicated.

"These Jedi have begun assembling an auxiliary force to contest our movements. Logistical projections indicate sustained conflict will be unavoidable. Engagement analysis suggests prolonged resistance in the region, requiring additional adjustments to the timetable. Accordingly, I have extended the current operational framework by three months to account for their interference."

There was no concern in his tone, no room for second-guessing. Hellmarch did not doubt. Hellmarch did not speculate. Hellmarch calculated. The Crusade would proceed. The enemy would resist. And the enemy would fall.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Hellmarch

Darth Imperius listened intently. He valued martial skill, organisatorial ability and logistical acumen extremely high, afterall, it was what he excelled at. Hellmarch, for a mortal or at least closest to it, was quite apt at it and was more than respected for it, he had his rank and trust because of it. Good soldiers were relatively common. Great soldiers were a rarity. And the best were those who appeared once in a lifetime.

The progress was satisfactory, well within the parameters of expectation and above minimum requirements the Dark Lord set for everything. Not that they were low or easy to achieve, but they were a trademark of quality, a demand of attention to detail and discipline, that it would make the Ascendant Order a force to be reckoned with.

"Malgus Legion as core, Khaion and Tekthon as newly founded. Good. The Skytroopers and other droids will arrive within the next rotation."

Seventeen worlds. That would be a challenge, a welcome one. He had dispatched Speculatores and opened several maps from the archives of Iokath and Zakuul that yielded way more on the Unknown Regions than even Jedi cartographies ever could. They were the ports to this remote area and while the Maw had been active, it only was a fraction of what was possible. They had been, afterall, just Core-Worlders playing in the shadows.

The fact that there were survivors of Waystation Oasis was extremely dissatisfactory though. It made the ancient Zakuulan squint slightly.

"Aegis. They will feel our wrath, a beacon that will light our rise."

"What information do we have on their developments and resistance? I am not willing to draw forces away from the Dark Empire, they are almost a liability already."

 

[Hellmarch]

Tags: Darth Imperius

A potential ally. A possible complication. A factor yet to be determined.

Hellmarch did not deal in sentiment. He did not care for alliances, nor did he place trust in the ambitions of others. Nations, empires, and warlords—they were all variables in an unending equation, pieces to be manipulated, assets to be expended. The Dark Empire was no different. Whether they proved useful or irrelevant remained to be seen.

For now, they were a consideration, not a priority.

Turning his attention back to the Crusade, Hellmarch spoke, his tone measured, stripped of emotion. "From current intelligence reports, we have identified four confirmed Jedi survivors from the Oasis engagement—one Padawan, two Knights, and a single Master." His voice carried no concern, only cold certainty.

"The Knights have fragmented. Each has taken to assembling roving fleets of militia drawn from scattered worlds in an attempt to contest our naval superiority. A futile effort. They will be the first to fall. These fragmented flotillas may harass supply lines, conduct minor raids, but they lack the discipline, coordination, and firepower to pose a real threat. The Ascendant war machine will grind them into irrelevance before the second phase of the campaign even begins."

Hellmarch paused only for the barest moment, tilting his head slightly, the act less thoughtful and more akin to the recalibration of a war protocol.

"The Jedi Master and the Padawan are the greater concern. Unlike the others, they are not merely gathering insurgents—they are forging an alliance." His voice remained steady, absent of doubt, yet there was an undeniable weight behind his words. "Three worlds have already fallen under their influence. They pool their resources, consolidate their strength. If left unchecked, they will continue to rally others under their banner. Given time, their coalition could become a legitimate military obstacle rather than a mere resistance."

A brief pause. Then, a single calculated observation:

"A Jedi Lord, if we were to use the ancient designation."

The words carried no reverence, no weight of legend—only the acknowledgment of a battlefield designation. A title taken, not earned. A name spoken by frightened soldiers and desperate politicians in search of a champion. Hellmarch shifted slightly, his stance never wavering, his tone never uncertain.

"It is of no consequence."

The declaration was final. Absolute.

"The Jedi do not win wars. They prolong them. They scurry in the shadows, wielding philosophy and sentiment where true warriors wield steel and fire. Their history is one of resistance, not conquest. They do not build empires. They do not command fleets with the discipline of a true warlord. This so-called Jedi Lord—he may gather his coalition, but he will not be prepared for what follows. The moment he commits to open war, he has already lost."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Hellmarch

"We will not underestimate the enemy, Lord Militant. Even if such apparent flaws as separation and inferior technology or quantity defines their status. They have managed to survive the hell of Waystation Oasis, to escape and retain a semblance of sanity and reason, that is no ordinary feat and we will approach them with cold reason and steel."

He knew he had not to correct him, but he did so nevertheless. There were too many boasting Imperials lurking about that claimed to be successors of Thrawn and Tarkin while they could barely write their names. It was not a reminder meant for the Lord Militant, but for the officers around that nobody was above correction and the realities of war.

"Our approach will define our flexibility. We are not throwing in everything we have unless a decisive battle is possible and feasible. This and here." He pointed to two systems, one independent according to scans and intel and one within one of the Knights' area of operation. "Are the most stable entry points into this sector. We can either move to the independent one and potentially secure a forward base in a swift move but alert them of our coming or we manage to strike at one of our enemies right away, but risk a longer fight to secure a foothold." With a slight adjustment via mind-impulse, the map zoomed out a bit, his armored hand pointed towards a third system. "Non-stellar civilisation but harsh hyperspace route, a risk to lose to the way, but considering its remote, we could achieve a base and maintain the element of surprise."

"The Jedi Lords will fall, but it is imperative that we watch what we spend on such. We have no abundant pool of resources and manpower yet."