Harrowed and Reaped (Levantine Sanctum Dominion of Bosph)

[Jorus Merrill]

The Absolution, a rotund Lucrehulk core ship, had once been the flagship of the Rebel Alliance (in its previous and true incarnation, at any rate). As the Absolution hit realspace, then, Jorus indulged himself in a fantasy that he'd never bothered to verify, the idea that the ship meant liberation, safety, reassurance to the people on the ground. The inhabitants of Bosph were six-limbed Force-sensitive insects, well on their way to the core ship's degree of bulbousness. Who knew what they really felt about anything. Not all minds worked the same, and the people of Bosph had suffered under genocide and oppression more than once. Events like that, whether recent or ancient, left different marks on different kinds of psyche.

Regardless, the citizens of Bosph had asked for Levantine support, and support they would get, no matter the gulf between their perspectives.

All rational beings could feel fear, after all.

***​

​

As the Levantine transports descended into the planet's well, Jorus strapped himself into the pilot's seat of the Gypsymoth and joined them.

Bosph had been the seat of the Sith Council, until [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] and Ember Rekali broke their pride, ripped open their deepest vaults, and turned their treasures to dust. That was one site, the Sith Council facility that had been partially gutted, then reclaimed by New Order Sith.

Because Bosph had also played host to the New Order, at least until [member="Alen Na'Varro"] and Ashin Varanin had broken the Sith Temple, and the Mandalorians had swept over the sector like harsh rain. That temple, and its very nasty catacombs, constituted the second site.

The third was a city, its name unpronounceable, its alleys haunted by Sithspawn...and a lab, perhaps the source of the spawn, perhaps the source of the New Order's immense monstrosities.

Jorus was bound for the broken temple.

[member="Jaxton Ravos"] [member="Rosa Gunn"] [member="Seydon of Arda"] [member="Ilias Nytrau"] [member="Delila Castillon"] [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="Thessa Kai"] [member="Thurion Heavenshield"]

 

[Mornhun of House Marr]

He did not belong...of that fact, there was no question. He sat alone in a small airlock to protect the rest from his terrible presence. He was a monster, an abomination who could never know the company of people he may at one time have befriended. The sight that came from his twisted eyeless face searched the world below. A mask of calm claimed his visage while tempest raged within. Somewhere, somewhere below he could feel them, sithspawn, darkside aura's that tugged at his soul due to the Keys of Korriban-like manipulation inside his body.

He stood from his crouched position and pulled his hood over his jet black hair and wrapped his cloak around himself as he waited. Soon, so soon he would again face creatures that echoed the abhorrent thing that he was turned into, and he would see them rent from existence or go to chaos trying.

 

[Seydon of Arda]

[ Absolution - Deck 13 - Hanger Bay 2 ]

Console modules began keying in, throttles along the floor-box rigged in by the centered command seat nudging forward until a throaty whine reverberated through riveted hulling. Hololiths swept with unwashed fingerprints and palm-oil woke, spinning data-lines, casting off lantern light in the darkly recessed cockpit. A comm-channel pinged for acknowledgement. Gloved fingers depressed a hard-light switch and fed the audio through padded speakers beside the engine read-out console.

"Relentless, this is Absolution Flight Control. Read outs are green. Docking latches disengaging in fifteen, refueling lines in three. Calibration cycles reporting complete. Docking latches disengaging in five. ...Two. One."

The Relentless, a long nosed war-bird of a cutter, lurched forward. Crisp flood-lamp lighting cones overhead painted the black rivet-hull and opaque fore-screens in patterned lobes of white, manoeuvring jets blinkered magma-hot. Unseen hands adjusted the nozzles, coasting the vessel forward. Deck hands guided her forward below and ducked under her fierce backwash. A sound like an eagle's keen rose in time with her lagged acceleration.

"Absolution to Relentless, you are cleared for flight. Happy hunting."

"Acknowledged," Seydon of Arda knocked his knuckles against the channel-diode and shuttered communications of. The Relentless phased through atmospheric shielding. Gyroscopes righted her in relation with cloudy Bosph below, thrusters dampening a touch under attenuating software. She hung silently, shadowy and terrible. And then her backquarters lit up with engine flare, afterburners opening wide until the aft-nozzle segments threatened to cook. Seydon took her in for a hot approach.

With events from the last prior months unresolved, Rosa's disappearance into the Core, alongside storied tales of black magic, occultism, and horror following the latest war, the Dunaan was like ball-lightning. Concentrated, worried, and in need of grounding.

 

[Not Ordo]

Gnarled hands held a simple staff of Veshok wood as he stood in the drop ship. Old grey eyes closed as he let himself be lost in thought. He had avoided trouble for so long. Why now? Why did he leave his life of watching to involve himself in affairs that would barely notice him either way. There was something, something had nagged at him and he could not quite put his finger on it.

His thoughts turned to the dark skinned woman he had seen. What was it about her that tugged at the back of his old mind. It was there. He could sense it just out of reach waiting to be grasped, but thus far he couldn't place it. It would have to wait however, he had pledged his aide to the Levantines and their goals and once pledged he would give them all he could just like the thousand year war, but that was another story....

 

[Delila Castillon]

[member="Kalizka"] | Drop Ship


Sitting uncomfortably in the drop ship was was redheaded soldier. Full body-armor was on, her blaster rifle resting comfortably between her knees. Uncharacteristically the woman was mildly nervous. Not at what could lie ahead -- shooting things was easy in a sense. The mind shut off and the body and training went to work. No, that was fine. Delila was nervous about her new position. A soldier for the Levantine Sanctum. Much of the operations in the sector seemed to be focused on defense and supporting local planets. The people in need. It was something Delila could truly get behind. Reminded her of younger days, when the world seemed more black and white, more good and evil.


Yet she was nervous something would go wrong. She had been recently fired. Not that it was going to affect how she acted. Delila was trudging on. She wasn't going to wallow in her misery and become a hermit. Everything in life was a learning experience. Putting one foot forward at a time was going to get her closer to being back to normal.


So today, today was new. And on this day she was on a drop ship with a old salt of a sentient, heading to help those who had faced genocide.

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

After the conference, Corellian Engineering had spent its time building up the necessary infrastructure on Etti IV to begin local development and construction of capital ships for Levantine use. Now getting near the completion point in that regard, the thought was shifting from capacity to design. The Levantine Sanctum had rather particular tastes and philosophies that put them apart from the galaxy. This meant that their designs would need to be developed very specifically with those things in mind. To that end, Ayden decided that some field tests were overdue.

A pair of ships appeared in orbit over Bosph. Broadcasting a Sanctum IFF, the ships were easily identifiable as Corellian Engineering in origin. However rather than the dark gray hull normally used in the capital ships CEC designed for the Protectorate these two ships had hulls primarily painted white with several prominent blue stripes painted along the side along with the sigil of the Levantine Sanctum.

On board of the bridge of one of the ships stood Ayden Cater, Lord Protector and Chief Innovation Officer for Corellian Engineering. He was busy pouring over the schematics. Though the ships were of a new class from CEC, these two were different still. Their flak cannons had been replaced entirely, and the quad laser cannons cut in half, to make room for a suite of point defense ion cannons. Only as strong as the average starfighter's ion cannon as opposed to those more traditionally used for capital ship combat, these weapons were just one possible aesthetic they were looking to test.

The LH-39 Mini-Javelins remained a part of the ships as their removal would necessitate a complete breakdown of the ship's structure. However they were presently powered down as the briefing packet had not included any intel on possible ground combat. The turbolasers remained active and were looking for targets to track. "Patch us in to the lead Levantine ship." Ayden was interested to gather the needed field data. "Connection established."

"Absolution, this is Ayden Cater. I'm here in my capacity as Chief Innovations Officer from Corellian Engineering. I have two ships on stand-by, ready to assist in whatever way we can." He intentionally left out his title as Lord Protector as that was wholly irrelevant to him being their. He was not here as a grand leader. No, today Ayden Cater had come to take orders.

 

[Nephesh Raivah]

Still in a state of morning but also one to not think on the past few months. After all there was a reason why her own cousin after much talk send her away from all the political unraveling. After all did she even have a home. The major income from her Lesser House family was burnt to the ground all part of a larger a wider plot to take down the House of Teramo. The holding of the Greater House and a sit on the Court of Counts. In this she lost her own father figure her Uncle Count Teramo. Finding out that nothing more she could but to be ship away and trained.

Even that was a bigger problem now having her Master [member="Jericho"] to give her training even that was a very long talk. Knowing the her Cousin Countess Calum stand on force user with good reason behind with the history of her family her family also. Giving a way to a long sight as she tried to seek out where her master was in this what she called a crowd in her eyes at less. With the busy of all getting into drop ships. Smoothing out her own dark green dress wondering now if this was the best choice of dress for something like this.

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to, here let me help you.", she had bumped into someone that seem to be in a hurry himself as she let herself at less help placing what looked to be some weapons in his hand or they could be just tools. Giving him a smile of her own as she watch this one hurry off as he blended into the crowd just what was she doing here or even what she was doing she had no clue at all. Telling herself go with the flow go with the flow Nephesh.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

The Absolution patched the comm through to Jorus and the Gypsymoth.

"Master Cater, this is Absolution Actual. Welcome to Bosph. Our ground forces are engaging three main targets, but there's a fourth target. The Absolution was going to handle it, but your position gives you a better angle on it at the moment." Jorus adjusted sensor feeds furiously. "There's what looks like a holdout base, polar, with a moderate deflector shield. Our bet is leftover New Order. We need that shield taken down without harming the base, and without melting a few cubic kilometres of ice. If your ships are capable of that kind of precision, feel free to take the shot. Over."

 

[Seydon of Arda]

[ Somewhere West - The City Without Name - Atop a Shelf of Flint & Rubble ]

A mitre-speck like a flies complexion sped west through a gale blowing opposite from the north and east, whipping rainwater across the sharp prow. Vaporized moisture plumed in the engine backwash, in kilometer long trails of white-on-silver gusting smoke, aft burn-cones bright as sunlight in the rainy fugue. Seydon banked into a grey wall of clouds rising vent-straight from hissing mineral lakes below. His palms were naked on the attitude and ventral yokes, his palms married to the grooved plastic, clicking subtly under his direction. Returns on in-atmosphere scans were pinging back a glistening, three-dimensional holo-portrait: a reconstruction hinting at something tall, rubbish, sapien, but alien. Inutterably alien.

Then he saw it come out of the mist. It's ruined stature belied what had been doubtlessly majestic in its time. Cleaved spires, gutted hollow by firefights and strafing ordnance runs, peaked like jagged molars out of a broken, rotted and greying gumline below. Smaller architecture ran up the spire-sides like ankling detritus. Fire-crazed trees, Seydon thought. It was the bare remains of nature when bonfire heat and flames wrecked havoc through unchecked.

The City Without A Name was a grey slurry landscape of wrecked geometric lines between honeycomb population centres and tetragon, dome-capped 'mosques'. Seydon put the Relentless down at a roadway mouth meandering out of the northern limits. Down-jets scattered scarp and flotsam, peeling rust off the flanks of skeletal hovertanks and torn, armoured aircars. Thick landing struts ejected from the darkly plated belly, depressing into flint, punching a foot or so through rotten pavement. Then Seydon of Arda rose and spun down ship systems, briefly retiring to his quarters to dress up, arm, kit, and prepair.

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Ayden grinned. Any time Jorus Merill was involved in an operation, magical things happened. "Glad to know you're here, Captain. As a matter of fact, I think I can help you out there. Let me get my ships into position and I'll get back to you." Ayden turned to the ship's commander who smiled and gestured for the Corellian to take his place on the command platform. It was not secret by this point that Ayden was an exceptional naval commander. It would be a learning lesson for the crew.

"Alright then. Move us into position over the target. Take us down to a thousand meters. Prepare the ion cannons and stand-by all hangers. We might get some visitors who don't want the company." He turned and tapped into the ship's internal com. "This is Cater. All hands, prepare for atmospheric descent. Set Condition Blue throughout the ship. All hands report to Condition Blue stations." The lights on the bridge dimmed slightly while blue bathed the stations. Intertial dampeners were pushed to their limit as the ships began their descent into the atmosphere. This would be just another demonstration for the Sanctum.

A fiery aura surrounded the ships as they fell through the atmosphere. On the bridge, Ayden clutched both hands onto the rail to keep himself steady. Even with the dampeners set maximum there was still a significant shudder that ran throughout the ship. After a minute the shaking ceased and everyone relaxed. "We're approaching the target." On the screen he could see the dome stand out against the white sheets of ice. Clever, really.

"Okay, deploy outposts Aurek and Besh. I'm sure the Sanctum could use a few forward operating bases near the target. If we're lucky, the Sith will all throw down their weapons and surrender. But I don't think we'll be so lucky today." In a quick response, the fore wings of the ship erupted in brief gouts of fire as the base pieces dislodged from the ship and set a course for the ice shelf two kilometers from the target. "While Aurek and Besh outposts are setting up let's give the Sith down there a light show. All available cannons; open fire on that shield."

 

[Velok the Younger]

OBJECTIVE B: BROKEN TEMPLE OF THE NEW ORDER

Akure Executive Leatherworks had diversified beyond haute couture, and rather a long time ago, all things considered. AEL had an exclusive contract with the Mandalorians to excavate and contain the more problematic elements of nearby Dromund Kaas, arguably the most Dark-Side-contaminated planet in the galaxy. Bosph, in its way, had a similar problem. Two recent Sith regimes had left indelible marks on a world already broken by ancient catastrophe.

That was Rave Merrill's favorite combination.

With Dromund Kaas' successful processing to pad her resume, the government of Bosph had been more than willing to acquiesce to her request. Their caveats had been straightforward enough: the Levantines were already onsite, and interfering with them, competing with them, was simply not appropriate. In response, Rave had pulled up a map and shown them just where AEL based all its operations -- at least, the ones in this universe.

A pair of AT-SAT landing barges, the Lethewalker at their head, disgorged a force of several dozen bipedal qo'saarai tuk'ata. Not just trained for this, but experienced as only an AEL employee could be, they followed Rave toward the ruins of the temple, on foot.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

The Gypsymoth kept pace with the far larger CEC vessels, albeit at a respectful distance; no need to make helmsmen second-guess his positioning. The battered old YV-929's viewports tinted against the actinic glare of a serious ship-of-the-line-scale bombardment. By sensors alone, then, he tracked the two miniature prefabricated bases as they took the lon fall to the ice cap.

Behind him, Beyyr and Miktik ran through final check. The Gypsymoth was packed to the gills with ex-Rebel Alliance folks, ready to move in on Objective D once Cater got the shield down. The YV-929 broke away from the larger CEC ships and looped around slowly, in preparation for a landing run.

 

[Jericho]

Sabers. Check. Grenades. Check. Combat Mask. Pat. Check.

Jericho gently absorbent clothing over his skin then he smoothed his armor lightly over his body with a quick strap to tighten it to his frame. After pulling on his armaments, he quietly put on his white battle-torn jedi robes. The man nicknamed the ghost read the report prior of boarding the Levantine ships and was ready for a fight if needed, as he always tried to be. Ready. As he awaited for arrival, he sat quietly meditating, becoming one with the force around. He took a deep breath in through his nose and long exhale out from his mouth, his eyes closed taking in everything around.

He did this for sometime until there was a light bump to his person followed by a thump onto the floor. He turned slightly to see that it was another one of his padawans.

He looked her up and down and wondered why she would be wearing a dress in situation like this. He cracked his fingers and his neck as he stood and walked over to his closet and took out spare light armor, a jedi robe, along with a vibroblade. He tossed over her clothes and armor but placed the weapon next to her. "Gear up and hurry." He stated calmly to her. "We are heading to the temple. You stay close to me at all times. Understood? You have five minutes to change."

@Nephesh Raivah

 

[Seydon of Arda]

[ The City Without A Name - Wintry, Strange Mews ]

The second needle jumped and hung round to the west and south, the third and fourth joining the first mag-needle waving steady for the north. Pause. A beat. Three of the four needles, non-tethered to the magnetosphere, swung about the compass face with near-violent speed, ducking and trembling whilst attempting to lock in several substantive presences nearby along the mew-street. Seydon eased its velvet-padded lidding closed and stowed it back on its thong of leather hanging from his throat.

His Korriban Compass arrived as an unanticipated gift from regions unknown, weeks prior. Letters marked in Rave Merrill's peculiarly ambivalent handwriting, neat yet trembling, described its ingredients and function. Through high weather, adverse battle conditions, through some of the worst locales Seydon and his kind dared to breach, it would lead them with felicity and fidelity to what they sought. Beast. Man. Or otherwise. It's indistinct wiles in targeting were both advantageous and a frustration. Sometimes volatile.

It was little larger than Seydon's open palm, bracken coloured wood seized by rings of concentric steel heat-chiselled with abrupt, evil scripts. A convex crystal lens was fitted snug in the center over a compass mark, nailed with four needles that shimmered like liquid mercury in certain light. It was remarkably hardy, despite bumps and strikes sustained in its current ownership.

The Dunaan came up a length of pseudo-roadway that veined out into numerous capillary aisles wriggling into rubble-lapped architecture. Weak grasses had sprung up through pauses in the destroyed roadwork, tall but brittle as glass. They snapped under Seydon's boots, cracking loud as pistol shots, reporting echoes in every which direction, returning from odd angles up beneath his feet, as a warped reply of sound. Fibrous growths hung in lichen drapes from heat-bent lamp posts. If they were lamp posts. Bosph aesthetics ran counterintuitive to a great deal of culture the Dunaan had encountered. It was expected, but still unnerving. With compass stowed away, he picked his way up through the ruined thoroughfare. Dreary shapes waited ahead over a rise in the street.

And shapes of dark flesh and rivened eyes stalked from the cover of emptied arches and doorways either side to Seydon. Sharp, wolven eyes picked them out: roughly six feet in height, copiously dressed in hanging skin with muscle tendons exposed to naked, grimy air. Their throats were collared with syphilitic sores and their breathing seemed quite pain. They did not, however, resemble the Bosph themselves. Their flesh was hairless, possessing only ever a maximum three arms to two bipedal legs, unreasonably thickened with braced musculature. Lower teeth jutted out on underbiting jaws, hinting at tusks, fangs, molar outgrowths that could chew easily through bone.

He wondered who'd brought and left their miserable sort here. Bosph had seen so many abuses, suffered tremendously under harsh master to master, that it was possible Seydon would never know. Whatever evidences linking their creation to a set, clear name was likely done away with. Destroyed. Either in the wars of succession throughout former Sith space or by the cleansing's that came in their wake. It wouldn't matter now.

The Farwalker armour called them. They began eking out from the ruins, two and three at a time. Voices rose in a haunting threnody of hunger. ...Rage. Seydon stopped his stroll and undid the binding of his cloak, hauling over a hood across his white hair and brow.

He reached and swung Winterfang free, in time as the first naked bodies came hurtling.

 

[Nephesh Raivah]

Blinking her own sky blue eyes as she lock eyes upon her own master. Giving away to one hand on her hip. Feeling that there was more to this then wanted to know finding that he place clothes in her own hands. "Change, ", as he eye the clothing. Taking a deep breath after all she had took her time picking out this dress. Something told her that he wasn't going to wait all day for her. As she hurried away coming back she had on the armor and robes. Even in these there was something of a tightness that hugged all her curves boy was there a lot.

Not wanting to keep her master waiting any more then she had tapping him on the shoulder from behind. Before she spoke she made sure her hair was in place. "Im ready now, I hope this to your liking, Master.", as she made herself stand taller then she uselessly does.

[member="Jericho"]

 

[Adele Adonai]

THE FIRST SITE
OBJECTIVE: Be a resource!

Ghostly reckonings and all, why not follow someone delving into the depths of the putrid Darkside to haunt? Ready to glower at any who would use Sith artifacts for dark means or to aide in identifying for the pure of heart, the ghostly apparition of Jedi Knight A'dele A'donnai would come and go.

Time to see who would feel the presence of the Force through the Iridonian Jedi.

 

[Aeron Kreelan]

LOCATION: EN ROUTE TO SITH TEMPLE AND CATACOMBS
OBJECTIVE: Do things
OMEGA PYRE DROP SHIP:

Missions were starting to pick up what with all kinds of chaos running amuck. More so now along the Tingel Arm now that the Sanctum was starting to slowly move across to claim under its wing of protection that which the Sith had long since dominated over. Eyes closed, the Icarii Commander would sway lightly back and forth as their shuttle would shutter, breaking atmo.

They were here to help clear the area, helping the Sanctum secure the old bits that might still have critters and the like running amuck. Her unit specifically had been in several different missions that ran along the same tone as this one, so their elite force plus experience came in handy.

They'd break dirtside soon enough -- in the mean time, she would make use of a short nap.

 

[Sumalee]

LOCATION: THIRD AREA???
OBJECTIVE: INVESTIGATE RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT


The Tingel Arm. This was a new frontier for the Togruta, having spent the bulk of her time on the Core Worlds and at the most, on Ossus Academy. Now she was here, upon worlds that were as foreign to her as the Yuuzhan Vong once were. Strange, how time and the Force play into such things.

The Jedi Padawan took a deep breath, the hum of the engines of the transport she was in giving a comforting sound. They would make landfall soon. What came next after that, was in the hands of the Force.

 

[Cira]

B O S P H


Well, it was bound to happen. A time where I would leave Midvinter and travel the so called galaxy. So far, I have found that recycled from a ship held no comparison to the brisk air from the alps of my home.

Really, everything was sorely lacking. I could not fathom why anyone would desire to leave our planet, our home. Much the less to travel to another planet that word had was overrun by the remnants of dark empires.

Nonetheless, I have my sword at my side, its familiar weight a comfort along that of my armor. It is in the small familiar things that life truly does find its blessings.

 

[Velok the Younger]

OBJECTIVE B: BROKEN TEMPLE OF THE NEW ORDER
[member="Aeron Kreelan"] (inbound)
[member="Jericho"] [member="Nephesh Raivah "](on their way eventually)

Rave and her qo'saarai tuk'ata squinted up into the sun as Aeron Kreelan's dropship began to descend. "What's an Omega Protectorate ship doing this far out?" she mused in High Sith, and a tuk'ata officer grunted volubly. The bipedal and well-armed tuk'ata fanned out, securing the perimeter of the temple. She'd hoped to test them on Dromund Kaas, but they could make do without it; they came from Tash-Taral. Broken Sith temples, and all the hazards thereof, were their stock in trade.

She pulled out her comm and put out a short-range open-channel hail. "Omega Protectorate dropship, this is Temple Actual. Welcome to the party."