High Seas [TSE Dominion of Dellalt]

[Mythos]

Objective: 1 Dive Dive Dive!
Location: Above the Mara-Class Aquatic Dreadnaught

The team made no moves, the clarity of their objective was final and the tide was perfect for the initial dive. Mythos made sure all systems were prepared and the supply of oxygen was adequate for the dive. In the case of emergency the Mara-Class had a filtration system to feed more oxygen through the life support systems using water. All systems were ready, weapons were primed, target zone was locked. He stepped off his own personal quarters at the top of the command bat and stood above the walkway that overlooked the Command Port. He gave a nod to the imperial officers responsible, the naval task force and the engineers. It was time.

"All ships. Dive!"

As he gave the command a blue light and a loud siren overtook the ship, Mythos hung to the durasteel bar over the walkway in front of his quarters as the ship began to seal the surface hatch and dive slowly into the seemingly endless ocean of Dellalt. The water protested around them like a storm as the behemoth ship dove down into the depths accompanied with other large ships in their course towards an unknown battle. The ship rumbled as the pressure of water crushed in all around them as deeper and deeper they went underwater. Once fully submerged the systems could be seen much better as the light did not filter in as much and the visual representation of what was around the Mara was much more clear. Mythos thought it felt like going a slower speed of hyperspace jump, slowly he brought himself to his full height and everything began rolling like the simulations.

The crew was in large Ithorians and Lamparoids, recruited from Florn and Nathema to aid in the war effort. They called themselves space bugs, because both of those things they would never see in this station. This was made clear to be one of the few times they could actually use this ships potential, as it was a very niche type of craft but deadly when used in what it was designed for. Up the stairs came commander Holk, the leading officer of this vessel, flanked by his assistant 2nd lieutenant Barghs, a newly graduated Lamparoid. "Lord Mythos, we are in contact with the natives. Our ETA is three minutes, once there there is about one hundred nautical miles against where the enemy tribes have set up their position" Commander Holk said, his young and charismatic demeanor always in coincidence with Mythos.

"Very good Commander Holk, let us prime the weapons and ready for contact at any time. Contact our flanking elements and sparse out one nautical mile. We don't want to lose each other commander but we also don't want to bunch up. Let's make sure we all breathe normal air once again shall we?" He said, responding to the Commander just as he had spoken, strong, optimistic and arrogantly confident.

"Yes My Lord, although Lamparoids say they prefer it down here" He responded cheerfully, a skip in his step as he turned and dashed away. Mythos nodded and smiled at that, noting that particular note about the crew of the Mara. Hopes were high above his ship, they were confident and most importantly Mytho got the feeling they were itching for this fight, if there was to be one...

​

 

[Vereshin]

Location: An Island in Survivor Territory
Objective: Find the Source of the Curse
Allies: [member="Dysnomia"]

As Vereshin's eyes widened at the sight of the teenager, he focused on the gentle splash of the waves against the jetty as a distraction. His eyes narrowed and he fiddled with the coins heating the surface of his palm. When Dysnomia complimented his chanting, something he had not expected, his cheeks turned scarlet. The ends of his mouth parted into a trembling smile as he slid both of the coins back into his pocket. Placing both hands on his hips in a defensive gesture, he stared at the jetty and stifled a an embarrassed chuckle.

"Well thank you." Vereshin stammered. He raised a hand and brushed back his slick hair, his heart fluttering as he offered a wide, bashful smile in a gesture of appreciation. "I stopped because I don't chant front of anybody." He answered concisely, avoiding the details of his experience with reciting incantations in front of an audience. "If you're lucky, you might get to hear me sing again when we break this curse." Raising an eyebrow, Vereshin hinted playfully. He noticed the focus of Dysnomia eyes change and he turned around to see that she was looking at the ferry girl steering her boat across the sea.

"The curse robs the affected of rational thought." Vereshin cocked his head to one side as he began to answer the question. "A Sith who cannot think is about as useful as a pet vornskr." As he handed Dysnomia her coin, he spoke in the manner of a teacher explaining a concept to a student. "Good to have on a leash so that they can bite your enemies, but they must be put down once they become rabid." Vereshin explained as the ferry girl arrived. He handed the woman his coin and stepped inside of the ferry, offering Dysnomia his hand as she lowered her foot down into the boat. Once inside, he sat down on the seat opposite the ferry and allowed Dysnomia to sit beside him.

"We may keep a few of the citizens affected by the curse to study the properties." As Vereshin spoke, the ferry continued to row, unfazed by his words. The effects of his spell with which he had imbued the coins subdued her violent impulses and made her nonchalant to the words he shared with Dysnomia. "However, the Sith do not want civilians killing another and disrupting the stability of the Empire." Resting an arm on the side of the boat, Vereshin enjoyed the motion of the waves as he spoke. The ferry girl rowed them across the channel to the island affected by the curse. The woman docked the ferry into another jetty and tied a rope around the post.

"Here we are." Vereshin said to Dysnomia as he stood. Maintaining his balance, he pulled one pointed-toed shoe out of the ferry. Once he had both feet on the wood, he lowered a hand into the boat and helped Dysnomia onto the jetty. Brushing down his clothes, he waved to the ferry girl out of habitual courtesy, even though she may have attacked Dysnomia and himself had he not imbued her coins.

"Tell me, little Dysnomia, would you like to capture some cursed islanders for the Sith to use as test subjects?" Placing a hand behind Dysnomia's back in a protective gesture, he lead her across the jetty and onto a wooden path. The beach met the dry grass, where mangroves and shrubbery hid the village. Muttering a spell beneath his breath, he combed the dark side energy hovering on the surface of the world for the source of the curse. They walked along the wooden path and into the trees, where the low chatter of villagers grew louder.

In the center of the path, the fresh corpse of a young woman lay splayed, her entrails ripped from her stomach and strewn across the path. A large dent was caved her into skull, where one of the villagers had struck her with a heavy implement. When Vereshin and Dysnomia stopped in their tracks, the dark mage did not cover the teenagers eyes. He simply placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down, so that his cheek almost brushed her own.

"Are you alright?" Vereshin asked in a gentle tone. Dysnomia was a Sith girl. There was a high chance that this was not the first dead body she had encountered. Vereshin merely thought it was polite to express his concern. "What do you make of this?" This time, he asked a question to test Dysnomia's observational skills.

 

[H3xle]

LOCATION: Delalt Orbit
OBJECTIVE: II, Secure Neutrality for Mediation
ALLIES: [member="vestille thumahra"] | [member="kaalia pavanos"] | TSE

The waiting was the worst part of any deployment. You trained for action, activity, deciding your actions, and responding to the actions of others. You trained until it was deeper than instinct. You trained for perfection, and then you trained more.

In the end, though, there was no training for the waiting.

No matter how many hours you've stood stock still at attention in an auditorium, sweltering in an itchy dress uniform. No matter how many hours you've stood stock still at attention on a parade field in all manner of weather. No matter how many hours you've stood stock still at attention on the parade deck of a Star Destroyer.

The next stint of waiting always sucked harder than the last.

Aryn knew, intellectually, that the waiting always sucked hardest in the moment because you were in that moment. In memory it passed far more quickly as you can only remember the boredom passively.

It never helped to remember that, though.

A short whistle was all that preceded a voice entering into the squad bay, a simple room where Aryn and her squad waited.

"Sergeant Grimm, report to CIC."

Aryn slipped her sidearm back together in a quick flash of fingers, then holstered it and stood.

"Suit up, assume standard mission layout until told otherwise." She ordered her squad, who were already putting away the projects they had been working on. Then she was out the door and en route to the CIC.

- - -​

"We have intercepted comms that suggest we may have an issue with the mediation." Major Salador Venta spoke to Aryn in front of one of the holotanks in the CIC. The tanks image was split between an image of part of one of Delelt's moons and an area within the proposed cease-fire zone. Various points in red and green were present. "Here we have the cease-fire zone. The points in green are current Legion deployments. Within that cordon is where the mediation talks should be happening. Outside of the cordon over here are Survivor camps, with the Delaltians deploying on the other side closer to this shoreline." With each point referenced, the point was highlighted on the planet side of the map. "Within the last twenty minutes, we intercepted comms originating within this Survivor Camp. The destination of the encrypted stream was an old Imperial naval base on the closer moons surface. All scans of the base showed zero activity, so we believe it is being used as a relay for the signal. Intel agents had already infiltrated both sides of this little war, so we had the encryption protocols, but we have no knowledge of who the message was sent to."

"You need my squad to zero in on who sent that message." Aryn replied matter-of-factly. Major Valta nodded before continuing.

"Correct, we have other resources looking for the destination of the signal, and until we have identified it we can't push forward on combat operations." Her eyebrows lifted pointedly as if to say 'obviously'. "The data we have will be put to your systems. Wheels up in thirty."

Aryn nodded, then left the CIC for her squads area so she could suit up and they could deploy.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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​

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Survivor-Dellaltian Border, Dellat​

Objective II :: Establish a cease-fire zone.​

Assisted by: [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]​

​

Numerous units were dispatched to locations all across the cordon.

Yet whilst tensions escalated and both sides snapped their jaws at one another, the control was clearly in the hands of the Sith Empire with the Command Post as the hand that held the whip. It was from here that the 7th was directed and other elements ran their operations from and it was from there General Thumahra stood alongside the Sith known as Kaalia Pavanos as they oversaw the diplomatic solution to the conflict that was nothing more than a speck on the radar of those that the natives of this world called outsiders. Were everything to go to plan, these 'Survivors' and 'Dellatians' would soon realize that their petty squabbling paled in comparison to the galaxy-wide conquest that the Sith Empire and its allies undertook; the Legions in league with the Dark Side of the Force never halting in their advance, world after world falling under the ceaseless expansion with no signs of stopping. Should they cooperate, the Survivors and Dellatians would see themselves on the winning side of the conquest-- To resist was to be seen as an upstart, an attempted blockade on the path to progress.

With how quickly and easily the Sith Legion had established the cordon, it should have sent a very clear message to both sides; a message that resistance would be crushed without hesitation. This may not have been their war before but now they were very much involved-- And in charge.

It was within the Command Post that the General and the Sith prepared to host the negotiations upon neutral ground. As Kaalia presented her request of a room of complete privacy, Vestille nodded and raised a hand to point at a corridor that seemed to stretch off to the right of the prefab structure; "I'll have one of the rooms cleared out and re-purposed for the peace talks, all with accompanied escorts and designated security detail; privacy will be upheld." the General stated firmly, the hand lowering itself and resting against the holotable in thought; no doubt in thought of which room was the best to provide and would be the quickest to establish. Once he had the venue decided, it then fell to him pondering upon the security and escort detail which, all things considered, was not a difficult task; in reality all of the planning on his end was done within a few moments flat, the tell-tale sign that this was the case came as he raised his tacpad and started inputting the required data; in which during so the Sith spoke once again, revealing herself to be the assigned diplomat for the duration of their time on Dellat. Vestille gave another firm nod as he'd continue tapping away; "As you wish, my Lord. I'll forward the information to the communications teams and have them fall under you for the duration of this assignment. They'll follow your orders and assist you in any way they can."

His hopes had been answered and now someone else was here to handle the diplomacy. The General could focus on more important matters, the matters that came apparent when diplomacy failed.

 

[Blackblade Guard]

Ash coated the ground, raining down from the thick plumes of smoke that rose up from the desiccated blown-out buildings that wilted like dying flowers in the intense heat. Bodies littered the street as well, many of them burnt beyond recognition, hands clutching their faces futilely in an attempt to put out fires that had already burnt the flesh from bone. The one things that moved amidst the ruin were the spectral visages of warriors garbed in ash-stained black, weapons of belching flame clutched in their hands as they made their rounds to ensure that nothing else could survive. Structures whose destructive embers had died away were reignited by gouts of cleansing fire, the conflagration reborn again and again until nothing remained by ash and twisted melted metal.

"This village is clear, move onto the next one."

The voice was garbled, almost mechanical, but distinctly Human. Men had come to this land to burn and to plunder, not beasts out of some mythical fairy tale. Men and women who had been indoctrinated into the cult of death and perversion that surrounded the Butcher King, the Scourge of a Hundred Star Systems that had consigned entire populations to death without hesitation or remorse. They had been given an order of enslavement and destruction, and they carried it out willingly and at times eagerly.

Typically, members of the Sith-Imperial News Network would accompany the footmen of the Legion on their campaigns to document and compose grand operatic propaganda reels to feed to the Imperial citizenry back home, but that was not the case for this particular operation. The cleansing of these people was to be carried out in secrecy, or as secret as it could be allowed. The people would be enslaved and carted off to suffer at the hands of the Zygerrians and nothing of their homes or of their culture would remain once the Blackblades had completed their task. Those who would question what had been done on Dellalt would be told that the Empire had discovered a vast network of armed insurgents preparing to launch attacks on the Imperial frontier, and had been ruthlessly eradicated down to the last man to ensure that the safety of the Empire would no longer be at risk.

Soon they would sweep over this land again, removing the evidence of their atrocities and building new settlements to house the wave of Imperial colonists that followed every campaign. And the history of those people that lived here before the Empire would be forever lost, as was intended.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Koda Fett"]

Perhaps another reason why Koda didn't shoot him in the face was the fact that Ronan didn't gloat.

He had made his point.

Nothing more was necessary. Even if internally he was still snickering about his reaction. Why Koda gave two chits about some ghost that had gotten himself killed like a chit... was anyone's question. It would almost be like him worshipping one of those old Vizslas.

"Hmpf." His scanners didn't catch anything either.

Problematic.

"Let's move then. Can't be far out."

The holes had become more numbered the deeper they had gone after all.

 

[Mythos]

Location: Abyssal Depths.
Objective: Conquer the Depths. Survive the battle of the abyss.

The dive speed of the fleet was only matched by their positioning angles and control while diving, the fleet was ready and engaged for war, yet they would receive no contacts or hails until they could not see the light of the sun. Silence slowly befell even the com chatter as league after league they passed, the pressure of the ocean crushing the outside of the ship but the durasteel more than hanging on. Inside the command center and weapons displays all was normal, until the Mara was hailed by the natives. As Mythos had suspected, they would only hail them when they had reached the abyssal sector, their path now was deeper still into what was called the vaulted trench. The natives of the planet hailed Mythos' ship with their encoding systems, one of the few languages in this sector he was not familiar with, he came prepared with a Xaynias droid to encrypt it.

The fleet was now in Abyssal Depths and could see where the battle was being held, the trench. The resistance was not of the race known as the Dellaltians, they moved different, everything was clear with the superior sensor arrays of the Mara-Class. The Behemoth ship hovered above a large portion of the trench while the smaller and prototype aquatic ships of the Sith Empire dove into it alongside the Dellaltians. The soldiers brave enough to take these missions were few, but among those were the Lamparoids and Anubians, already experienced with several conflicts and conquests under the banner of the Sith Empire. The Mara-Class brought light to a world of abyss in the form of her Ion canons and Laser Canons mounted on her sides, Mythos ordered a tilt of her broadside and the gun teams did their work, the high tech tracking systems making short work of even the most well defended positions,

"Call in the hydrodivers, get infantry positions down in the trench, locate that Vault." Mythos ordered, his calm demeanor inside the Mara-Clas resembling a cruise on a yatch minus the booze. The Mara-Clas could not deploy, it was sealed tight, a well defended carapace that withstood massive punishment underwater but other than it's escape pods it had no hangar bay, dependent on the fleet for support. The resistance was not without defiance, theirs was not a tribe but a city, their strength was in numbers and small fighters and ships that the Mara had trouble dealing with alone. Suddenly the trench busted with them like a hive kicked, each of them firing their weapons frantically against the imperial and native force coalition. Mythos' calm composure was quickly replaced with one of urgency.

"Belay that. Deploy all Hydrolancers and Corven Battleboats, focus all fire on the trench and their fighters. Alpha team, deploy Echo company of the engineers to sector eight with a Hydrolancer escort and the Commenori Marinos." He turned, looking over port and any hits the hull might have taken, he did not want to risk any damarge to the ship. "Revert thrust power to shields, rotate point defense canon fire with the east flank."

"It was like shooting a hive of insects with grenades... This battle had turned explosive... "
- 2nd Lieutenant Veran, Assistant Weapons Officer on-board the Malediction Corven Battlboat.​

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

THE OPEN SEAS OF DELLALT

The wind was fresh.

The seas were clear.

The birbs were chirping.

Kalak hated it.

Disgusting. But luckily all of this was going to change soon enough. If you wanted your banking system to succeed? Hire some Muuns. Want to break open the chinks of your engineering? Verpine, Fondorian. Brute mindless violence? Most likely the Mandalorians. Brutal bureaucratic efficiency and extreme exploitation? You called upon the Raykkans. [member="Darth Carnifex"] had seen the wisdom in that. It was by his call that Kalak the Raykkan had been approached as an intermediary between the Sith Empire and the Makesh Cartel.

The Raykkans and their slaves had come to Dellalt in force.

To build their infrastructure on the open seas and exploit it for all its worth. "No, not this one Desmond." Kalak flopped to the next Swimming Person. They had captured a handful of specimen to test them. See what they were truly worth.

"Put him in the cuisine section, mmmhm."

One more flop.

"Mm, this one is good, yes."

 

[Koda Fett]

DELLALT​

CAVERNS​

​

It was a matter of legacies. It is all that one left behind when they passed into the ether, and to transcend your former in the eyes of everyone was truly admirable, but it had never meant anything if you hadn't in eyes of your own. Perhaps Vizsla had firmly believed he was his own man, one entirely unique in a Galaxy that contained so many, and so it was never a concern. A Clone, however, desperately sought individuality- separation from their template, and despite his efforts Fett was never able to free himself from such restrictions. They were internal, for he was Jango replicated, he could never detach himself from the traits that man possessed.

That hadn't seemed to be the issue now. There was something regarding holes in the ground, Fett didn't quite know- he was distracted, and that was Ronan's fault. His Carbine remained firmly within his grip and he marched on, eyes glued on the area directly ahead of him in addition to his scanners.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Mythos]

Objective 1: Conquer The Depths/ Open the Vault
Location: The Abyssal Trench

What was supposed to be a skirmish quickly turned into an all out battle with several elements of Mythos' own fleet already being anihilated by the tribal defenses of the abyssal trench. They knew what they were doing, they used the faster and smaller ships to skip and zip through the large turbo laser blasts and set detonators alongside ships and ignite them, a single blast enough to cause the pressure of the ocean this deep to kill the entire crew. Mythos was not as confident anymore, barking out orders and taking full control of his strike force... He did not want to die here, this was a bad place to die even for him. "Lock on to the higher trench walls and focus the turbo laser fire on it, bring down the damn walls on these insects!"

His orders were followed to the letter but the enemy, a race they knew now was called the Mahailon, was physically more capable in these depths than any soldier the empire could throw at them, they moved like eels and snakes, using the pressure of the ocean and their natural swimming speed to close the distance with the imperial infantry and get in close quarters where their coral made weapons made mincemeat of the Imperial Abyssal armor. "Marinos!" Mythos said, the Mara-Class shaking after being rocked with a torpedo. "Lay down a base of fire from the lower ridges! Have the Hydrolancers move forward and clear a path to the trench!"

As the battle went on the enemy actually pushed the Imperial War Machine back further and further using their animal mounts or vehicles to do so. Everywhere around the trench became a battlefield, the Imperial ships following Mythos' orders to shoot the trench walls and bring down the rocks upon the enemy. It took several salvos but after the pounding of the larger laser canons the walls came down and a part of the miles long trench was shut, killing many of the Mahalion defenders with it.

This cut the reinforcements of the tribal defenses and the imperial and native Dellaltian forces began to finally inch forward with their long range blaster weapons. The Marinos found their lightning rifles to be extremely effective and after the Hydrolancers gave them what they wanted, distance and range to pick off targets while being protected by the Hydrolancers, the Marinos systematically began to elimiate the enemy entrenched infantry with precision shots and mortar salvos. Once the momentum shifted to Mythos' side he turned the guns on the enemy itself.

"Divert all power to main weapons and unleash hell on these insects! Push them back into the trench! Marinos and Lancer teams! Pick up and assault through!"​

 

[Irajah Ven]

Dr. Vain Jar'He was picky. When she'd requested samples of the aquatic locals from Dellalt, she had been quite precise in what she wanted. There was work she wanted to accomplish on other ocean worlds already in the empire's borders, and she had some hopes that the species here would be useful.

The first batch brought to her however had been.... sub par.

It was like they hadn't read her instructions at all!

So to Dellalt she'd gone, and unhappily at that. Granted, Vain didn't do much happily. Grudgingly. Intensely. But not happily. Her shuttle was directed to one of the nearby rigs being built- she didn't know nor care by and for whom, it was in Imperial space and therefore she had the right to be there.

When the small figure stepped out of the shuttle, the beak tipped up, taking in the sunshine, salt spray and brisk wind. Shrugging a little deeper into her robes, she muttered something unintelligible but might have been an invective about how bright it was out here.

A pair of guards followed her out of the shuttle. Apparently too close.

"Just stay PUT. I do not need extra shadows. Does this look like a war zone to you? It's an open platform. If I slip and fall in I can swim. Shoo."

[member="Kalak the Raykkan"]

 

[H3xle]

LOCATION: Delalt Orbit en route to Surface
OBJECTIVE: II, Secure Neutrality for Mediation
ALLIES: [member="vestille thumahra"] | [member="kaalia pavanos"] | TSE

Aryn and her squad sat inside a dropship en route towards the camp where the signal originated. Operational plan was to drop them well outside the camp, then for the squad to close in and begin monitoring for the source of the transmission. The originating communications device had been tagged for them, so whenever it was active it should allow them to triangulate.

"Reaper squad, touchdown imminent." Came the words of the pilot over the dropships overhead speakers.

Then the dropship touched down suddenly, and the restraints released.

For her squad, all landings were hot landings, and they were out of the dropship and into the grass around the landing site before the ramp finished descending. In moments, they were prone in the grass, monitoring their fire zones in a three hundred sixty degree arc around the dropship. A moment later, the dropship lifted off, aiming for orbit once more.

"Aleph team, port watch fifty. Besh team, star watch fifty." She ordered over her teams local channel. No verbal affirmation was needed, her HUD showed both teams of her squad forming up and moving. Aleph moved to a semi-circle formation centered on their team leader fifty meters to Aryn's left. Likewise, the Besh team lead centered his semi-circle fifty meter to Aryn's right.

Ten soldiers made up Aryn's squad, plus her. Two team leads, two heavy gunners, two designated marksmen, two combat engineers, and two medics. Her squad was designed to be able to handle any situation independent of support, and were often deployed behind enemy lines. Each of her soldiers not only got chosen by her superiors, but also had to pass her tests. She needed people on her squad that she knew would do the job they were assigned. The team was her family, and she was very proud of her Reapers.

"Sarge, I have a reading on the comm unit. Just north of the camp, about 11 o'clock. Can't pinpoint if it is within the perimeter or not from here." Aleph's team lead, Corporal Sanya De'saan, reported in.

"Confirmed, lets hoof it that way, keep your eyes peeled. These are supposed to be people looking for an armistice, but I don't want our assumption of their good will to bite us in the askal."

The team stayed low, and began to move around the eastern edge of the camp, with it still well out of sight, so they could come at it from the north.

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

[member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"]

Nobody expects Doctor Vain Jar'He.

Until she suddenly shows up and kicks the hands (feet) from under them. Then you start to wonder, while bleeding profusely, how such a smol person can have so much balled fury inside of them. This was the sentiment Desmond was feeling. The sentient tree stared down at the Doctor. They were unhappy with something. His mind was trying to keep up with the barrage of technical information.

But.

What did 'the osmosis co-efficient of the matrix' even mean? "Desmond. Thank you, you can go." A slimy voice popped up behind him. For once, just once, the Dalan was happy to hear that voice.

They immediately moved.

This allowed Vain to finally lay their eyes upon Kalak. The Raykkan was smoking a heavy cigar, the smog coming off of it enough to kill a small birb if it inhaled too closely or flew through it. "Doctor Jar'He." The other doctor was a bubbling ray of light. So this must be Vain. "That was quite rude. Poor Desmond will probably shed his leafs for weeks to come."

Head tilted.

"You seem to be agitated. Is something wrong?"

 

[Irajah Ven]

The rapid fire list of requirements she had peppered the tree-thing with hadn't been rude. At least, by the usual litmus of dealing with Dr. Vain. It had simply been uncompromising in its need and language. Maybe it was because she was already so small, or because of the coding put in from the cloning process by the Zambranos, but one thing Jar'He never did was make herself smaller in any way, for anyone. Simplify herself to be understood?

Only when necessary and then with enormous condescension.

She hadn't even gotten to that stage when the Raykkan intervened.

So by Vain standards she'd been positively polite.

When she looked at Kalak, Vain didn't feel the particular revulsion many other sentients might. But that was because Vain disliked and was vaguely revolted by everyone. So there was no spike, no real reaction to his appearance in any way. He could have been tall, dark, handsome and nothing would have changed.

"I am here to pick up specimens," the bird faced being snapped, tone peevish even through the buzzing of the mask. "The ones I was sent were no good whatsoever."

The mask traveled up and down, pausing for a moment. Not recognizing perse, but figuring out who she was talking to.

"Kalak, yes I did read something about your cartel being in charge here. I am certain that YOU at least understand the necessity of the right specimen for a job, yes?"

[member="Kalak the Raykkan"]

 

[Dysnomia]

Location: An Island in Survivor Territory
Objective: BYOO
Allies: [member="Vereshin"]

Dysnomia gave one more longing glance to her lift-skates on the dock, fretting momentarily that anyone could just saunter up and steal them. In addition to Darth Interitus, she was also not in the good graces of Daddy recently and doubted he would buy her another pair if she lost these ones, no matter how much she would plead that they had been stolen.

Although Vereshin seemed to have quite a few coins on him.

As she sat in the ferry, Dysnomia clasped her hands in her lap. Little did anyone in the boat know that when she was angry, those same palms would emit painful sparks of fire, lightning or other arcane energy she could summon. And though not comparable to the wrath of a seasoned Sith Lord, if any of the dark conductivity managed to touch your bare skin it would leave an uncomfortable mark. Daddy once locked her in a closet for causing a second degree burn on his arm after he forbid her to go to a Commenor social with her best friend because they broke the curfew for the fifth time that week.

She tried to listen but focusing was a difficult task for a sixteen-year-old, although her face blossomed with curiosity when Vereshin mentioned a pet Vornskr.

But now was not the time for talking. She listened to the man as though in class, and after they departed the boat, Dysnomia also waving to the ferry woman, they began to walk up a wooden path into a thicket. The SIth Acolyte felt a strong pull to the darkside. She examined Vereshin with a critical eye on their journey. He was young but yet old at the same time. Not like old and wrinkled as some Lords she'd caught a glimpse of. More like an old soul. "Capture, why yes!"

As the student and teacher grew closer, she smelled the sweet, putrid odor of eternal rest.

Her brows furrowed, but she did not flinch or turn her head. Dysnomia had seen a dead body before but only at a funeral home. She pretended she was the heroine in a holo-horror movie so she wouldn’t completely lose it. She did want to be brave for Vereshin for some strange reason if not the sheer bravado of not wanting to seem like chicken-poodoo.

The sprightly girl finally covered her mouth because of the smell, her eyes watering.

“Part of the curse?” she offered. “I mean, it sounds like this affliction makes everyone into homicidal maniacs, right?” She didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing. Why not turn the area into a place to bring those who have wronged you, watch in glee as they were hunted and then torn limb to limb?

“You mentioned a Vornskr. Can I have a pet like that? Under your tutelage?”

The ADD was strong with this one.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Location: Survivor-Dellaltian Border, Dellalt
Objective: [II] Establish cease-fire zone
Working with: [member="Vestille Thumahra"]

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Much like how general Thumahra was utilizing his headspace to work out various details surrounding the peace talks that would be hosted, the confines of Avacyn's mind contained a checklist. Each point was an essential one and failing to complete even just one created the potential of jeopardizing the mission as a whole. Things like ensuring the number of delegates from both parties that were being sent were in proportion to each other and differently-timed arrivals to prevent hostility to break out between the parties before they had even walked into the door were only some of many that had to be taken care of beforehand. That meant every second was valuable, for whenever one passed there was a chance of the conflict worsening even further.

"Thank you for your assistance, general," Avacyn said while taking out a datapad on which to direct and send out the communications. "I have transmissions to send out to both parties, so I will be attending to that. Do not hestitate to call me over if there is anything you need. I will be with the communications teams." With that she moved off towards that destination, tapping away at the device in her hand in the meantime. An order to request direct communications so she could inform them of the details of the talks personally, as well as give her the opportunity to ask the necessary questions beforehand. Hopefully, by the time the woman had found her way through the command center, both the Dellaltians and the Survivors had established contact.

---​

​

While Avacyn had her seperate talks with the leaders of the Dellaltians and the Survivors through a holo connection, the communications team was responsible for transcribing every word that was said. Through this, the finest details necessary to set up the peace talks for any kind of success were garnered and several things had been agreed on beforehand to promote an environment with the least amount of hostility possible. Both sides had agreed to bring five delegates and no more; the agreed-on arrival time of the two groups was 10 minutes apart. Precautions had been taken, and now there were only a small number of things left to be done before things could be discussed in proper. One of those things was making sure the request that the Dellaltians had made would be honored.

The moment the holographic image of the Dellaltian she had conversed with disappeared, the Sith lady nodded to herself as she internally confirmed that everything had been set up properly. "Inform general Thumahra to meet me in the room where the talks will be taking place as soon as possible." She herself then took off to head to the now-repurposed room to wait for the arrival of those who were invited. In the meantime, a message would be sent to the general to meet her there. If he bothered to read the explanation, he would find out his presence during the talks was requested by the Dellaltians.

 

[Blackblade Guard]

The forest was on fire.

Though by how the Guardsmen effortlessly marched through the flames and choking smog one wouldn't be considered at fault for thinking that they were strolling through a pleasant meadow than a nightmarish hellscape.

And this was no meager earthly fire either, it was specially concocted deep within the foul laboratories of the Sith Emperor. The flame was so intense and chemically unique that not even water could quench its thirst, and it was even shown to burn ferociously on top of bodies of water. When the warriors of the nearby Human villages had learned of their counterpart's destruction to the East, they had devised a strategy to protect their young and elderly before taking to the vast expanses of woodlands to fight the black-plated butchers that had ruthlessly annihilated their kin. Yet, instead of allowing themselves to be drawn into a disadvantageous position, the Blackblades had instead resolved to set the forest completely alight with this unnatural flame.

Their armor protected them from the heat and the smoke, while the natives had no such protection and were often found either burnt to death or asphyxiated. Those that still lived were executed on the spot through often grisly methods, with the cruelest of the Guardsmen taking trophies from the dead; primarily teeth. Typically such contraband was considered forbidden in the Imperial Legion, but the Blackblade Guard was afforded special privileges so long as they ultimately kept such trinkets a private affair.

It wasn't too uncommon to find personal shrines decorated with the macabre findings of the battlefield in a Blackblade's barrack.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The planet of Dellalt was not the largest of planets, nor the most strategically important, though it had its uses. From the mines that stuck themselves the center of a number of trade deals, to the rumored treasure vaults utilized by Xim the Despot more than a few millennia before Maliphant ever treaded on its soiled earth, there was and undeniable youthfulness to the otherwise continental world. Perhaps, if the day came, Maliphant would like to vacation here, if only for a few days to appreciate its splendor.

Today however was not time for that.

Following the Silver Jedi’s occupation and abandonment of the planet, there was an unknown fate for the planet, lost in the limbo of apathy and neutrality. That was the case for much of the world, however deep within the planet there was those few vague rogues that abandoned the order of the Jedi and worked tirelessly to save what people they could, the ancient order of the Watchmen if not unofficial. Maliphant’s target today was one given to him by the upper echelons of The Sith, directly as a test from [member="Darth Carnifex"], an aging Master deep in the caves outside one of the smaller cities on the planet.

If the Sith wanted an iron fist grip, taking any semblance of dissonance away from their psyche would be paramount. The destruction of this Jedi would be the primary concern, and so that Captain of the Legion moved in his armor, helmet at his hip, as the first of his squads descended into the caverns to evacuate those hopeless few who assumed safety behind the grasp of a Jedi. Once he showed his face, there would be only a few gracious moments before his death, and Maliphant knew this.

He could feel it, deep inside the rocky caverns, even as he stood outside of it.

“Darth Maliphant, words come back. We think we’ve found where the citizens have hold themselves up. A small bunker deep within the network, likely made during the era of Xim.”, one of the Lieutenants said to the Sith.

“And the Jedi?”

“He refuses to open the door without speaking to you.”

Maliphant considered it for a moment before nodding.

“Tell him I’ll be there.”

 

[Vereshin]

Location: An Island in Survivor Territory
Objective: BYOO
Allies: [member="Dysnomia"]

The mist concealed the lift-skates as Vereshin helped Dysnomia out of the ferry. Looking over his shoulder, he exchanged a discerning look with the ferry girl, as though he was silently warning her not to touch the girl's skates, although he suspected that she had not even noticed them. With a hand placed behind Dysnomia's back, he lead her down the path and towards the village, only to look down and notice that she continued to gaze longingly at the skates. The coast was practically deserted and he did not imagine anybody coming by during the time that they were on the island.

"Don't worry, nobody has come by this coast for weeks. Your skates should be fine." The sorcerer said in a reassuring tone as he looked down at the teenager. "If anything does happen to them, I promise I will buy you a new pair." Nodding in affirmation, he offered a smile to Dysnomia as he scanned the area for any enemy presences. When had explained his plan, he noticed that she seemed somewhat lost among the details, possibly not having understood his description of the mission. Scratching his head in thought, Vereshin tried to think of a more simple explanation. He was not accustomed to dealing with children and did not know how to properly talk to one.

"Vornskr are dangerous, you would need to know how to train one." Vereshin chuckled in response to Dysnomia's request for a pet vornskr. Just as he organized his thoughts, Dysnomia and himself stopped before the fresh corpse splayed across the path. The girl did not take long to connect the cause of the woman's death to the curse, a sign that she processed information quickly. He leaned down and watched as he thought about the situation, piecing together the imagery unfolding before her eyes.

"Very good." Standing upright, Vereshin offered his approval to the young girl. "The curse has made the people on the island kill each other." He explained, using a more simplified vocabulary. "The Sith Empire doesn't allow civilians to kill each other, so the curse has to be stopped." With a sigh, he made his sentence concise and used words which were easy for a teenager to understand, hoping that painted a clearer picture of the situation to Dysnomia. "Do you understand?" Turning his head to face her, he inquired a creased brow and a hint of concern in his voice.

The smell rising from the dead woman overpowered Vereshin's senses. Reaching into his coat pocket, he procured a black handkerchief, which he used to cover his nose. He walked forward and hovered his palm above the corpse, then closed his eyes and tried to siphon any remnants of the curse. Uttering an incantation beneath his breath, he combed the essence of the dead woman, which was all but empty. The curse had exited her body when her life had ended, which meant the spell could not be siphoned from a corpse.

"The curse attaches itself to the life essence." Removing the handkerchief from his face, Vereshin spoke assuredly, before rethinking his sentence and trying to think of a more simple explanation. "The curse leaves people when they die, so we need to capture them when they are alive." Squinting, he internally berated himself for dulling his words. "Do you think you can capture people who have the curse, Dysnomia?" Flattening the front of his scarf, he walked around the corpse and beckoned Dysnomia to follow. "Not many, only two or three." Vereshin said in a chipper voice as he continued his walk down the road. "I will deal with breaking the curse itself." With a nod, he walked off the road and into a clearing, which revealed the village.

A layer of mist cleared to revealed a desolate street. Smoke rose from houses and the feint sound of wailing hung on the air. Eyes widening, Vereshin's senses heightened as he stepped cautiously forward. The squeak of doors on hinges broke the desolate silence, which did not seem to be marred by a single person. Feeling the Dark Side energy grow strong, he followed the sound of the wailing to a house a blocks away from the trees. From the ajar space between the hanging door, dried blood stained the floorboards and the agonized crying grew louder as he stepped inside. Extending a hand, he repressed the malicious energy and subdued whomever lay inside.

Turning back around, Vereshin beckoned Dysnomia forward with a wave of his hand and assured her silently that everything was alright. Inside, furniture and cutlery was strewn around and gashes covered the walls. At the end of the corridor between the kitchen and living room, a young woman sat curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying with agonized shrieks. Stopping in his tracks, Vereshin stared her down and immediately detected the disturbance in the Force which was the curse. The woman pulled her head from her knees and wiped her face on a sleeve, appearing more desperate than violent.

"She's cursed, be careful." Vereshin warned in a deathly tone as he took a step ahead of Dysnomia. He approached the woman slowly, gradually suppressing the malicious energy with a splayed palm. He knelt down beside her and gently stroked her hair.

"I... killed my parents." The woman sobbed incoherently. Creasing his brow in thought, Vereshin realized that while the curse robbed the islanders of rational thought, their conscience remained intact, meaning that they could experience remorse for the murders they involuntarily committed.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Step by step, Maliphant made his way through the squads under his control work through arresting and guiding out the ‘rebels’. In truth, he doubted their involvement in ill deeds, though they acting in fear they have put themselves in a corner, and it was up the Imperial Courts to decide if it was meant for ill, or their knowledge of this Jedi’s kindness would be deemed detrimental to the Empire as a whole. Truth was, any ounce of negative feedback to the cause could send ripples through the Empire, evident by the numerous rebellions that had surged up on their borders in recent times.

Maliphant read about them, only wishing he had been there to put the rebels to the sword. The irony eluded him.

As he came up the door, Maliphant saw as one of the legionnaires that worked the operation motioned him forward to a small video screen next to a large blast proof bulkhead, likely designed to prepare the local population for an orbital bombardment. On the holoscreen was the face of an aging Jedi with a cold expression on his face, but his voice seemed to make him even older;

“I do not know your name, Sith, but I’ve asked you here to parlay.”, the old man said, the dust practically spewing from his words. The man appeared on the edge of death already.

“And I’ve come. Speak your mind.”, Maliphant responded simply.

“Those inside here are innocent of any crimes. I ask for their safe release.”

“I can only guarantee their safe transportation to the Imperial Courts. You, however, I can not guarantee the same for.”, he retorted in a deathly cold manner.

It was the truth, as no matter what any ‘Jedi’ was deemed to be killed on sight. There would be no court, no jail time, nor would there be a spectacle made of their efforts. Whatever information he knew could easily be interrogated out of the various others accompanying him, and they’d put up far less fight to get that information.

“I… Understand. Still, ensure their safety, and we can end this.”

Instead of speaking, Maliphant simply nodded, taking a step back from the blast doors as he waited for the Legionnaires around him to rush in the room, quickly moving to guide the various huddled masses from the depths of the bunker to the surface, their hands held over their heads as the groups moved.

Behind them was the man, short in stature and moving with the fragility that betrayed his Jedi heritage. Slow, methodical steps, that brought him forward at an annoyingly sluggish pace. Maliphant stood next to him, speaking for the first time in person;

“Once we are outside, this will end. Outside of the sight of the citizens.”

“Thank you.”, the man said simply.

Maliphant didn’t care for his forgiveness.