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Iridonia, once a bastion of Sith and Imperial Rule, now sits on the edge of Alliance Space. While the New Imperial Order is long past, its iron grip still has a hold over small parts of society. The world has fallen into civil war as sith loyalists, imperial fringe elements, and a small democratic minority rose up to all try and grab power. The last few years have been a brutal slog of turmoil, the planet now sits on the edge of finally finding peace, as the capital city becomes the final battleground of the long war.
Elsewhere, the Hypergate sits high above the planet, waiting to be utilized by a Faction daring enough.
Objective One:
(NJO/SIA OBJ)
Capital Carnage
Malidris, the Capital of Iridonia, has fallen into city wide chaos. A three way conflict between a fringe Imperial terrorist group, the remains of the Sith monarchy, and a democratic minority that has requested the help of the NJO and SIA to secure the city. The Democratic minority, known as the Horns of Freedom, has promised a full integration into the Alliance should the NJO secure their seat within the capitol. Fight under the stormy skies, through the urban hell of the city.
Objective Two:
(SENATE OBJ)
The Gates of Trade
John Locke
, of Locke and Key, has devised a massive upgrade to how Hypergates work. While his proposal to the GA has been sitting in limbo for months on the senate floor, the potential integration of the Iridonian System has sparked debate once more. Finally giving John Locke and those of the Corporate Interests Guild the chance to speak their case, the GA senate floor is now open.
Objective Three:
(GADF OBJ)
War Games
The planet of Uba IV has offered their rocky wastelands and upper atmosphere as a proving ground for the GADF to test their new equipment in a ceremonial War Games. Test new equipment, new tactics, or just enjoy a chance to hone your craft. Chum up with your favorite soldier boy, achieve the target objectives, and find a new favorite blaster or starfighter.
Interacting with: John Locke
| Open to interaction | Dressx | x | x | x | x | x |X | X |
The grand Senate chamber buzzed with murmurs as the Corporate Interests Guild representatives prepared to make their case. Amidst the formal robes and stiff decorum of Galactic Alliance senators, Danger Arceneau made her entrance like a warm breeze cutting through a humid Tatooine day. Her fitted deep emerald dress spoke of understated elegance, while her presence radiated the commanding assurance of a woman who knew exactly how to command a room -- even one as imposing as this.
Her emerald-green eyes swept the chamber, taking in the rows of stern faces and skeptical gazes. Beside her, several counterparts of the Corporate Interest Guild stood poised with his datapad, the very picture of calculated determination. Danger, however, carried herself with a softer kind of authority -- a honeyed drawl wrapped in steel resolve.
While this was Locke's presentation, she was here to support them in any way possible, including speaking on the matter if needed. She'd take her cues from John and then move from there. After all, there was plenty to discuss, especially due to the necessity driven by the Dark Empire's Imperial blockade over Corsin and the havoc it was making on trade and travel along the Hydian Way.
The Neimoidian navigated the corridors of the Military Canton on Fondor, occasionally checking the datapad within hand, while two Trade Federation Envoys trailed behind him to provide him economic advice during such an important session as the matters of hyperspace were interlinked with the profitability and rise of the Trade Federation of Planets.
It was uncommon for the cybernetic conglomerate known as Locke & Key Mechanics to travel this far into the Galactic Alliance, as they appeared to operate largely as an independent entity with alignment more towards the Sith Order, based on their marketplace acqusitions on file. Although the implementation of a new hypergate system was a captivating idea for the Neimoidian Purse-Worlds, there was still a matter of financial challenges that the Alliance Government was tackling.
The Dark Empire and the Sith Order would likely be determined to obstruct the project, should it receive approval from this chamber, through acts of sabotage aimed at redirecting significant financial resources away from military advancements towards security personnel and surveillance technology.
"Let us see if the Mastermind of Locke and Key is persuasive enough to convince the Chancellor and the Delegation from Alderaan." Dod said to the envoys seated nearby wondering what the Chancellor of the Alliance would have to say about this.
Senator Monaray was not personally opposed to the project but would have to play the opponent of the Corporate Interests Guild on the orders of the Commanding Viceroy who did not want to see the Guild become a rival to the Trade Federation within Alliance territory.
He spotted the Queen of Trade Danger Arceneau
not far from him, doing a polite nod in recognition.
"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"
[COMM TRAFFIC]
LOCATION : Malidris - Iridonia | OBJECTIVE : I | TAG (FRIENDLY) : Azurine Varek
| Jonyna Si
| Aris Noble
| Open for Interaction|
TAG (FOE) : @
Objective One:
(NJO/SIA OBJ)
Capital Carnage
Come on!
He had been there already for several days, undercover, not “hiding in plain sight” but using every bit of his field experience and his training to stay out of the way of everyone. It did not work every time, and he was found by some, but they were “dealt with” and would not be reported in. He was confident that he would be able to complete his mission undetected. He had to be resourceful and careful, but he was prepared to stay the course. He knew that the mission was more important than his own personal safety.
Heh “safety”... what business am I?
Connel was actually deep in the city, and though he wanted to he did not engage unless it affected his cover. Vanagor had a myriad of information on the Imperials. They were not “Imperials” but moronic terrorists who are too militant for their own good. What he was concerned about was the “other foes” that he was looking at. It was the Sith who were trying to reclaim the throne. Were these… the Assassins he read about?
They have to be…
They’re mounting some kind of power move? This was
If that was the case, he had what he needed, especially with the two who were below him. A couple of assassins ripping through an “Imperial” patrol. It was his mission that had to come first, he had the drop on them, clearly, but that would give away his position, and compromise the information. He had to act swiftly, but with caution. He had to take control of the situation and come up with a plan. He needed to act quickly, or else his opportunity would be lost.
Getting out of there was not the ideal move, but this was “war torn” and all he could do was hope that innocents were not stuck in the crossfire.
His datapad beeped with information that the reinforcements were here. He could report in finally and get back into the fight. He took a deep breath and pulled out his communicator to contact the reinforcements. He gave them his coordinates and informed them of the situation. He waited for their response and knew he had to act fast. Connel was not going to stay in the area though, he was going to give them the important information face to face if he could help it.
A coded transmission would request their position. He just had to move to get there. Staying on the rooftops was the only option and it was not enough. The Imperials were setting up sniper positions in what was “their” territory and moving in further. That meant that his path was compromised. That was it, it was time to engage. One sniper nest at a time. That would be after he sent another NOT to track and follow to his position without. Snipers line the area.
Connel did not like using his Lightblaster but attacking them head out would give him away. Luckily the weapon had fairly good range. There was a nest of three. One shot at the sniper, and Throwing Lightknives at the other two simultaneously took care of that. One nest down…
However many to go…
Connel is requesting the landing team's location to give an intel report.
Imperial snipers line several roadways.
He is engaging who he can silently
"Wizard, suppressing fire, Dragon, push in to the left around that ridgeline."
It was a simple order, but Ashley wanted to keep things simple today. It wasn't life or death for once, but she sure didn't want her men to not feel like it was.
Today she had been given the chance to work alongside the marines of Dawnflower Star, and she fully intended to impress. Even if Phoenix Platoon was well known within the GADF Army, their reputation only spread so far.
Ashley looked to Boxer, her Second in Command, with a nod. "Feel like we got this?"
"Only one way to find out. Trial by fire."
"You know I hate phrase."
"You hate reality Firebird."
"I hate seeing my men charge into uncertainty." Ashley shot back, crossing her arms. "Let's just keep going. We still need to find out if these new armor sets are worth the trouble."
The introduction of the Lionheart armor was a boost to morale within the platoon, but it also meant a new set of training throughout the unit. And boy, did the boys hate that.
Gil was surprised to find such a divided city. In most cases when it came to civil disorder, Gil expected to find a single government sided loyalist group, and a dissident faction of varying color and orientation. To find not one, but two rebellious elements if conflicting ideologies was both interesting, and dangerous. The locals had to divide their focus and tactics between two different forces, each one requiring a different type of response. It was something that a local government might have trouble with.
The New Jedi Order however had some experience with it.
Gil had deployed to the city with several other NJO members and the SIA operatives, though some of them had already scattered to tackle the issue the way they saw best. Gil believed that the best way to counter a threat was to get all the information that he could. The best source of that information at hand was the Horns of Freedom. He had spoken with their officers, learned what he could of the Sith and Imperials tactics, and began to formulate his plan.
He stood on the steps of the Horns of Freedom primary outpost, doing a final check of his equipment. He had secured intel of a possible Sith attack against a civilian shopping center. The loyalist forces were preparing to defend the center, but Gil determined the best course of action would be to attack the Sith's staging point. He had secured a speeder from the Horns of Freedom, and was only waiting to see if anyone else would join him in raiding the Sith base.
Location: Iridonia, Malidris
Objective: Capital Carnage, The Imperial Question
Tag: N/A
“Wargames on Uba IV? I can’t see that ending well.” Ko replied to the protocol droid he was speaking with who was the Jedi Knight a run down other GA operations in the sector.
“I’m afraid I agree with Master Vuto. The local Ubese there may perceive it as gravely insulting. The Galactic Aliance has likely inherited the generational hate earned by the Old Republic.” The protocol droid replied to Ko, sharing his sentiment.
“Well there’s no use in me fretting over it. Now is there any new information on the Imperial cells here on Iridonia.” Ko asked, he’d be specifically requested to handle some of the imperial elements here on the planet. Leveraging his own perspective and history as an imperial citizen from his childhood. Even these days Ko still held to his imperial sentiments thanks to his loyalist family.
The zabrak homeworld had been torn apart in a three way conflict. Something that wasn’t all that uncommon these days in the former imperial space, and the Dark Empire appeared to have no real desire to reclaim the old worlds. Ko believed that the unholy alliance between sith and neo-imperial kept their focus to the core-worlds and the Jedi. Not in being a proper successor state.
. . .
Ko had reached the meeting location. A nondescript area abandoned since the fighting started within the outskirts of the capital city. He was here to find a less violent and more long term solution for the Imperials. That was his hope at least. But he wanted to keep a realistic mindset going into this. Floating towards the Kel Dor was a small droid that scanned his body. Ko came here entirely unarmed as a show of trust and non-agression.
After a moment several soldiers approached. Clearly cautious of the jedi knight as he brought his clawed arms up to keep them in view. While here, not once did he not have a weapon aimed at him. “How do we know he’s really a Jedi, not just some spy in robes?” One of them asked out loud.
“Let me show you…” Ko replied, keeping his hands up he telekinetically summoned a rock from the ground. Gently floating into his hand to demonstrate his ability to use the Force without any hidden gadgets mimicking the effect before simply dropping the stone back to the ground.
With that settled more soldiers harshly grabbed Ko from behind and he felt a bag go over his head. Likely to help cover their tracks. Not that it mattered much for the blind Kel Dor who could peer past the thick fabric through The Force. Once he was secured they walked Ko to a nearby air speeder they had prepared and shoved him into it with him. Ready to take the Jedi to a secure and private location…
Clad in his tan suit, Judah quietly entered behind the Queen of Trade to the Senate chambers. One to avoid politics, he was int he business of making money, not exerting any power or 'influence' to get things done. Yet it was becoming clear corporate entities and their owners needed to make their voice and agenda heard throughout the galaxy. Banding together was in the favor of most friendly and neutral corporations - the Dark Empire was making that abundantly clear.
Which is why he was here with Danger and Mister Locke. A united front, a pushing of interest from their corporate guild. Personally, Judah suspected the Senate would want too much in return regarding the hypergates. Too much control. Too much say. However, he was merely making assumptions. He would remain open minded until then.
Location: Iridonia, Malidris
Objective: Purge the dark.
Tags: None yet.
The storm lashed the streets of Malidris, rain striking like needles against Dezorath's towering form. Encircled by a half dozen Sith warriors, he stood defiant, his blue phrik-plated light-pike glowing against the storm's gloom.
They attacked all at once.
A saber lunged for his side—he parried it downward with a swift flick of his pike. Another blade stabbed toward his chest, slipping past his defense to slash across his armored torso. Dezorath growled as the searing heat bit into his flesh. He twisted, letting the saber slide free, his wounds already knitting back together. They're fast.
Another strike came from behind, slicing into the plating on his back. Sparks flew, and Dezorath staggered forward, barely catching the next blow with the haft of his pike. A savage kick sent one Sith reeling as Dezorath pivoted, weathering the flurry of crimson blades with pure endurance. His armor bore carbon scoring and deep gouges now, rainwater mingling with smoke and his biology. He had the appearance of a fallen star. A saber jabbed up into his shoulder, punching through the heavy plated Duranium armor. Dezorath snarled, sweeping his pike wide in retaliation and meeting a foes blade with a parry. The motion wrenched himself free and tendrils of muscle regrew and sprouted appendages from the charred wound. Unleashing some of his form and releasing the shoulder pauldron from its place with a heavy thud.
"Is that all?" he barked, deflecting incoming a downward strike.
The group pressed harder, trying to overwhelm him. He blocked a blade aimed for his neck, parried another at his thigh and repeated a combination of counter attacks but to no avail yet. The force of their relentless attacks kept him on the defensive, his massive frame shifting and twisting with surprising fluidity for someone his size.
Then the Gen'dai's patience snapped. With a sudden surge of ferocity, he blitz forward!
He baited two Sith with an apparent stumble, allowing their sabers to lunge through his abdomen. The pain inflicted did nothing to stop his assualt and forced the attackers to over extend, Dezorath swept his light-pike in a brutal arc, cleaving through both warriors in a single, fluid strike. Another Sith rushed him from the side. A tentacled off hand shot forward in a stretching through the attacker's blade and coiling around the body. Twisted around the warrior's arms, the was simple flex of the muscles and with a wet crack bone broke before sith foe was raised into the air and slammed into the duracrete with a trembling quake. The display of raw strength fissured the surface below.
The remaining three Sith hesitated slightly, their eyes shifting intelligently with formulations of a new approach. Mean while Dezorath stood with a hunch poised to begin again, rain streaming down his battered armor and over the red and blue blades in front of him. They all hissed in the down pour. Once again he assumed form with his pike and gripped it tight with anticipation.
The Padawan followed faithfully behind the seasoned Jedi, his elegant tunic a stark contrast to everything unfolding around them. The embroidery carried natural hues of their new home, Naboo, which swayed in the breeze. His trousers fit snugly around his slim frame. The boy's wide eyes revealed curiosity and a hint of unease while darting about the streets of Malidris.
The datapad felt heavy in his satchel, as if it were a reminder of the endless notes he had been collecting since their arrival earlier. Each moment spent in the shadows of Gil had been an opportunity to better understand this city's story. Gathering knowledge was a skill Lysander adored, and he was no stranger to the constant effort of trying to better understand the chaotic galaxy they lived in.
Though he hadn't spoken with any of the officers directly, he stood quietly off to the side, his fingers dancing across the surface of his device, jotting down their interactions and his own personal observations.
Taking a deep breath, he removed any lingering doubt and allowed courage to kindle within. Finally making his way down a series of steps, the leather boots guided him forward with purpose, drawing him to one of the speeders. Piloting wasn't something he had spent much time learning; still, he quickly felt the powerful vibrations of the engine beneath the vehicle, even with just barely tapping the throttle. It ignited a sense of excitement and liberty in his veins.
He puffed out his chest slightly, trying to feel as confident as his companion while shooting a glance at him. The corner of the Padawan's mouth twitched into a smirk. “This can’t be any worse than what crawled out of the Netherwold on Theed. Right?!”
Kahlil spoke softly, glancing to his wife. Today was one of the rarest days imaginable. Valery was with him the Senate meeting. Given how pregnant she'd gotten, it was the safest place for her. And totally not because she was bored at the Jedi Temple and wanted to see what Kahlil sat through as if it was something fun or interesting. It was usually neither. And now she was trying to toy with the senate pod out of boredom.
"We're only here to observe and speak up on matters of the Force and in assistance with the war. We'll likely not have much to say here."
It was finally time. After 900 years, Azurine was finally going back to her homeworld. She had hoped it would have been on better terms since the last time she had gotten the opportunity to set foot on Iridonia, she had to run a blockade to get there and then staged a prison break for those fighting occupation from the first Empire. She never got to see the liberation of her people before she had fallen into stasis for centuries, and now, after all this time, she would finally see it through.
Her hands gripped tightly at the shuttle controls, turning back to the teams who were along for the ride, including Jonyna and Aris—both of whom had decided to accompany her on what was likely going to be one of the more difficult tasks of this push for liberation:
They were going to take the Malidris capital building, which had once been the meeting place of the planet's council and prime minister.
"Make sure all of you who need it have your protective gear on. The heat here is dry—it won't be merciful—and being caught outside if an acid storm rolls in will not be pleasant without it." Azzie stated quickly, a determined fire bright within her eyes. She didn't need the acid- and heat-resistant gear the way others might. Her body was quite literally adapted to handle such conditions, but she needed to make sure everyone else was prepared. She wouldn't be losing anyone to the elements on her watch.
"We touch down in three to group with the Horns of Freedom. Jonyna, can you send our coordinates to Knight Vanagor? Hopefully, he doesn't need a forceful extraction and can meet us with the intel, and we can go from there." She focused her attention on Aris and Jonyna as she spoke for only a moment before moving quickly to begin landing protocol. She didn't realize how quickly and easily she had taken charge, despite her hierarchical status, her violet eyes being ablaze with the fire in her soul that made her such a bright beacon for others to follow.
It was finally time. Though there was still a whisper in her mind that tried to tell her that she had no business trying to lead anyone, she was ready for this. It was time to hold that torch of hope and bring it up for everyone to see.
Roman sat hunched in a dimly lit room, some makeshift forward command center of the Horns of Freedom militia. Around him, the room pulsed with a cacophony of frantic whispers and urgent orders. Militia members, a motley crew of Iridonians who had dared to dream of a future free from tyranny, milled about, their faces etched with a mixture of hope and fear.
Intel, fed to them from the Horns of Freedom leadership, was the backbone of this specific operation. It detailed the horrifying reality of the situation. Varok, a Devaronian rogue-Sith with a reputation as ruthless as his crimson skin, had seized control of a towering residential structure near the city's center. The tower, a monument to luxury in a time of despair, now stood as a grim fortress, its upper floors occupied by Varok's Sith loyalists. Reports hinted at hostages, civilians trapped within the Sith's strong grip.
Roman ran a hand through his red hair, his mind racing through the intel. He was part of a small detachment of Padawans, deployed to support the Horns of Freedom in securing a part of the capital.
His gaze fell upon the tactical map spread across the table. It depicted the tower next to their position in grim detail, each floor a potential battleground. He could almost feel the oppressive weight of the Sith presence, see the chilling gleam of blaster fire in the shadowed corridors. The task before them was daunting, a fight against an entrenched enemy bent on causing chaos.
The militia commander, a grizzled veteran named Kel, clapped Roman on the shoulder, his voice low and gravelly. "Ready for this, Padawan?"
Roman met Kel's gaze, a spark of resolve igniting in his eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Roman's eyes scanned the room, landing on Caelan, a fellow Padawan with whom he had shared some field experience with. Next to him, a Padawan named Diogo stood, someone Roman hadn't met yet, but he assumed they would know each other well after this.
Roman tightened his grip on his lightsaber, the familiar material on the hilt a grounding presence in the chaotic symphony of the city. "Caelan, Diogo," he said nodding toward them, his voice calm despite the churning in his stomach. As the group exited the command center, they prepared to breach the tower.
The remaining three Sith hesitated slightly, their eyes shifting intelligently with formulations of a new approach. Mean while Dezorath stood with a hunch poised to begin again, rain streaming down his battered armor and over the red and blue blades in front of him. They all hissed in the down pour. Once again he assumed form with his pike and gripped it tight with anticipation.
Dillon was perched upon a roof that sat above the clearing off to the side, his legs kicking as they dangled. A cheerful grin was spread across his face, seemingly unconcerned about the circle of Sith. After all, the Gen'dai seemed to have it covered. The old Jedi hopped down, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strolled over. The rain was acidic, but it seemed to not bother the man in the slightest.
"Your display of skill is most impressive," the several thousand year old man noted with a soft smile, "But I think we can make some improvements. You do have an ally far greater than a blade, after all."
The old Jedi reached out his hand, dragging one of the Sith to him with the Force. It was a telekinetic strength that was raw and overwhelming, catching the miscreant entirely off guard. Dillon would catch them by the head, casually keeping them in place as they flailed about, his other hand removing their lightsaber from their grip.
"Your biology has forgiving perks," Dillon noted, "Healing from grievous wounds is a handy trick, but I'd imagine you'd much rather not be splayed apart by a hot blade of plasma, no?"
A more mischievous grin now played across his face.
"Can I interest you in an impromptu training session, padawan?"
Iridonia was not what he had expected it to be. Knowing Azurine Varek
as he did, this place should have been peaceful, serene, a place for study of life and martial arts. Perhaps there would be sparring arenas and tournaments to fight in. People sharing food and exciting stories of their favorite fighters from the tournaments. But instead it was chaos. Battle raged everywhere, and through it all, the people cried out in suffering, and he could feel it through the Force, begging him to do something.
It was so heavy that he almost missed the briefing of the situation they were going into. But he heard enough of it to understand that they were going to be trying to free a residential tower that a Sith had holed up in. The last time he'd faced one of them, he'd gotten a hole through the shoulder. In fact, his arm was nearly cut off. Most of it was replaced by metal, now, and the wound was long faded away.
Even though he had his lightsaber, it wasn't in his hands at the moment. It felt... wrong, somehow, to think about drawing it and using it first thing. This world was important to who he was, now, because of the training he'd received from one of its children. What kind of student would he be, if his first thought was to cut down his enemies? What kind of Jedi would he be? How could he live with himself after killing? He'd done it on Tython and it still weighed heavy on his heart even now.
"I am ready," he said, when Roman spoke his name. "We must bring peace to this world, and I will do so with my fists, as it should be."
He clenched and unclenched them, then drew a set of simple cloths from his pocket and wrapped them around his hands in a way that would protect his knuckles from getting cut open. It wasn't so much for himself that he did that, but there was someone back home that he didn't want fretting over split knuckles upon his return. Least he could do was try and keep that from happening.
A voice sounded through the rain. Distracting the Gen'dai briefly.
Enough time for an attempted strike.
He deflected a red saber strike aimed at his helmeted visage, his light-pike whirling in a deliberate, defensive arc. Another Sith lunged, aiming for his torso, but Dezorath twisted, allowing the blade to glance off his armor, leaving a molten scar across its surface."Training session?" Dezorath barked, his voice distorted by the strain of combat. His tone was gruff, edged with irritation. "This hardly seems the time, Master Jedi?!"
He sidestepped a third Sith's sweeping slash, countering with a brutal strike that forced the attacker to leap back. The Gen'dai's hulking form loomed, muscles tensed, his mind split between the fight and the strange intervention of the Jedi adjacent. Dezorath's yellow eyes flicked toward Dillon as the ancient Jedi plucked one of the Sith from the fight with casual ease. His grip on his pike tightened. "Do you always talk this much, or is this some sort of lesson in patience?" He asked.
It wasn't exactly the lightsabers that hurt. But regrowing nerves at an accelerated rate was a pain he did not exactly enjoy.
A strike came fast from his left. Dezorath intercepted it with the shaft of his pike, shoving the Sith off balance and immediately stepping into a defensive pivot. He took a moment to snarl toward Dillon:
"You think I don't know the Force is an ally? I am commanding it now, every moment I survive their blades!" He lied. He was not using the force at all. In fact specific abilities he actually struggled with greatly. Telekinesis was one of them specifically. He glanced at the Jedi Master and his display of telekinetic power. A feat he himself aspired to reach but then again he lacked the skills to wield it midst combat.
A saber slipped through his guard, slashing upward into his side and severing his arm at the elbow. He was for the moment disarmed. Dezorath gritted his teeth but refused to yield, his body rapidly healing even as he turned and slapped his elbow into the offending Sith, sending them sprawling. An array of red muscled tentacles protruded from his "wound" and prodded the air toward the direction of his limb on the duracrete below. Ah kark!
"Fine," he growled as the Sith regrouped, circling warily. His defiance burned like the scars crisscrossing his armor, but deep inside, he couldn't deny a flicker of curiosity. Drawing a blaster carbine he rapid fired blaster bolts at the sith to stall their approach and buy time. " Enlighten me, Master Jedi!"
Aris stretched just a bit as he stood in the transport with Azurine and Jonyna. Combat, warfare. The part of him that relished the fight was excited, even if he wasn't actually pleased with the idea of fighting in a war. What a fragile balance there was between the warrior within and the Jedi. And yet, helping Azurine, helping her people, that's what mattered the most to him now. He cracked his knuckles, glancing to the other two Jedi.
Both a once-powerful Imperial authority and a diminished Sith monarchy were taking their dying breaths. The Galactic Alliance and the New Jedi Order—along with their various allies— were bearing down on Iridonia, threatening to end the three-way civil war stalemate once and for all. Whatever vestiges of Imperial and monarchical power remained would soon be excised and discarded into the dust bin of galactic history. In reality, it was over before it started; the anachronistic powers were on the verge of flatlining and it was time to pull the plug. Diogo and his fellow Padawans just had to do their part, starting with some rogue Sith coward named Varok.
As usual, Diogo was confident.
Roman and Caelan were unfamiliar to Diogo, as his duties in the Outer Rim had kept him busy until recently. "Hey, boys, nice to meet ya. So, what's the plan?" He looked up at the towers on the holomap in the makeshift command center and swallowed a lump in his throat. "Are we assuming they have hostages? If so, what's our rules of engagement?"
After the brief, Diogo stepped out with his comrades. Unclipping his lightsaber from his belt, Diogo turned it over in his hand. The hilt and hand grip were heavily tarnished. Chips and scratches decorated the metal bits of the pommel and emitter matrix. Though functional, the activation button lacked the spring it used to. Despite its unattractive appearance, it worked—and it was about to get its fair share of use.
The reports had been coming in. The Heir. The true born son of Iridonia, pledged to the throne, was the commander behind all of this. Once in exile, now on his path to a triumphant return. The Sith King that had once ruled this planet hadn't been erased as he should've been, and his followers had chosen to hide in the shadows. Wait for the moment to strike. Was it a coincidence that the Alliance was here?
Or was it part of a bigger trap?
Regardless, as Iris scanned through the injury reports her expression hardened. The warrior caste under the old king were a brutal sect of fighters. They fought for the thrill of the kill, butchering bodies and leaving corpses unrecognizable in their blood fury and zeal. That mixed with the other dead bodies, killed in ways they didn't even realize it themselves. The contrast was off. No. Over brutality covering the systematic elimination of the Imperial leadership.
Iris's brow knitted together some before she clicked off the datapad. "We prioritize the living. Check for vitals, then move on. Only use the Force to heal if they can't be saved with conventional medicine. We're going to be here a while, you're going to need your strength." She paused again, glancing to her Padawan. There was going to be bodies and injuries that she didn't want Zaiya to have to see. But, they were Jedi. Her place wasn't to shield Zaiya from the galaxy, but help soften the blow so Zaiya could stand on her own.
"Knight Lidos, you ready?"
Her gaze shifted finally to the other Jedi with them, though her eyes never did settle on him. He'd be more aware than most on just what she was looking at. The colors of her world, that blended life, intent, emotion. The Force in a dazzling spectrum that Iris could always see, for better or worse. Watching and studying. He wasn't someone she knew, after all.
Aadihr appeared to have his head lowered as he attempted to glimpse closer at the capital with Farsight, but the colors that flickered before him made Aadihr want to vomit.
Every single corpse in the city, every splash of light snuffed out in real time was a life lost - the culmination of years of life - memories of love, loss, joy, and tragedy; decades of lives as vivid and storied as any of the Jedi onboard come to an abrupt and terrible end, if they were lucky. Aadihr would not allow himself to feel anything less. He would not allow lives to be diminished as a statistic or resource to be spent. Every single death here was the worst moment of someone's life.
It was a greater concentration of hues both desaturated and searingly vivid than he had ever had to stomach before. He could not look away. He could not be merely a bystander to such horror.
Aadihr snapped out of his Farsight and back to his immediate surroundings, only slightly twitching as Knight Arani addressed him. He nodded, gulping back the pre-sick salivation that threatened to betray him, as well as the burning feeling of his own bile in his abdomen.
“It’s every bit as bad as the injury reports say.”
Worse, even, with what is not yet recorded. Aadihr felt a twinge of guilt - he had spoken without concern regarding the morale of Iris’s Padawan, Zaiya.
Under his breath, he muttered for Iris’s ears alone, “Black as bile, choleric and crimson.” He tried to lift the mood on his face, to project false confidence. He could not, his faltering grin failing to conceal the horror of what awaits them on the surface.
“Orders recieved and clear, knight Arani; Stabilize and move on, save our strength. I’m ready.”
Aadihr’s voice quivered with emotion as he acknowledged the directive.
Even if it cracked his composure, even if it affected morale, even if it drew anger from within him at the wanton waste of precious life, Aadihr would not diminish the value of each soul suffering below. Despite the blindfold over his empty sockets, he would keep his eyes wide open to the living nightmare of war.
John Locke
, of Locke and Key, has devised a massive upgrade to how Hypergates work. While his proposal to the GA has been sitting in limbo for months on the senate floor, the potential integration of the Iridonian System has sparked debate once more. Finally giving John Locke and those of the Corporate Interests Guild the chance to speak their case, the GA senate floor is now open. 
