Jewel of the Tion [TSE Dom of Chandaar Hex, AJ,25]

[Darth Carnifex]

Jewel of the Tion.

Throneworld of the Kings of Cron.

Now a toxic wasteland exploited by intergalactic corporations, a fallen idol marred by abuse and neglect. There was still potential, shining out from the fetid swamplands and scrap-metal barrens that blanketed the planet’s landmasses. Many have passed up the world for greener pastures, viewing the world as unworthy of the time and effort that would go into dragging it out of the muck and back into magnificence.

But the Empire had an abundance of time and resources, and they would not let such an opportunity slip through their grasp.

Architects and engineers were tasked with crafting a bold new utopia, steeped in the geometric designs of the Sith that would make any who looked upon this new city awash with awe and reverence.

But before the Empire could lay claim to Chandaar, they needed to clean if of undesirables, reestablish its mining guilds, and secure the ruins of the old city.

Only then could construction begin.


Objective I: Restore Ambaril
Chandaar was once the throneworld of the ancient Kingdom of Cron, and Ambaril was its most prestigious city. However, the untold centuries have not been kind to the once shining jewel of the Tion, and all that remains of the city is a polluted waste of anarchy and ruin. Such filth is not deserving of the Empire’s glory, but the Emperor deems that it is necessary to the Empire’s control in the sector. Remove the undesirable elements of Ambaril through violent means, and return the city to some semblance of its former glory.

Objective II: Re-establish the Mining Corporations
Beyond Chandaar’s former importance as the Kingdom of Cron’s throneworld, it was also exorbitantly rich in natural resources such as minerals and ores. In the devastation of the Four Hundred Year Darkness, such resources have been left unutilized. The Empire always has needs of more resources to fuel the bellows of its war machine and demands that the once thriving mines and quarries of Chandaar be brought back to fully operational status. By any means necessary.

Objective III: Eliminate the Anti-Imperial Royalists
Centuries ago, the planet of Chandaar sat as the centerpiece of the Kingdom of Cron. Whilst history has whittled the once great Kingdom to a husk of its former self, from the ashes rose a figure only known as King Sigmund and has since rallied a significant number of his countrymen to bear arms in his name and restore their planet as theirs in a Galaxy rocked by chaos. Gain access to his stronghold by infiltration or brute force and eliminate the King and his loyalists, securing the planet from the upstart faction.

Objective IV: BYOO

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Royalist Stronghold, Chandaar​

Objective III :: Eliminate the Royalist Threat​

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Conflict erupted upon Chandaar.

This time there was to be no diplomacy, no sense of retreat or quarter for those that sought to slip the planet out of the hands of the Sith Empire. History had not been kind to the Galaxy, that much was known since the recovery from the Gulag Plague that swept across planet after planet exterminating without mercy and with an efficiency that put many of the blights that sought to leave their mark upon the Galaxy of conflict to shame. Yet it was this period of darkness, a clean slate for which the Galaxy would rise from the ashes and start anew gave rise to new Empires and Republics, Force Sensitives Orders that followed the paths of Light, Dark and the thin line between and those that would fall in the shadow of the Galactic Superpowers that rose to prominence. Deep within the wasteland covered by a toxic cloud, King Sigmund rallied his countrymen and sought to take a stand, the ideal that they could rebuild their homeland and the power that their ancestors once had. For this, to keep their sovereignty, foreign invaders had to be oppressed, any outsider seeking a stake upon their land was an enemy that was to be eradicated or beaten back. This, of course, put them at ends with the Sith Empire.

They were soon to learn of their folly.

Within the early hours of the morning, the 7th Field Army had deployed along the outskirts of the confirmed Royalist Stronghold alongside elements of Special Forces who had been deployed as a forward force to eliminate key installations such as radar, anti-air and munitions depots with the intent of the assault by the regular infantry and armor less of a struggle. It was unlikely that the enemy was to be one to surrender or go down without a fight; instilled with a form of national zeal by the defense of their homeland in the name of their King. It was to be a slog, an operation that would rely upon utter annihilation of these royalists and their defenses and drawing the enemy away from the defense of King Sigmund, allowing the Special Forces to infiltrate his sanctum and eliminate the figurehead, hopefully giving the enemy the push they needed into total disarray. General Thumahra spent most of that morning arranging the men and the tactics that were to be utilized in order to hit the enemy hard and fast. With major anti-air threats removed, gunship insertions within enemy lines would, in theory, bog down the Royalist defenders and make what could be a drawn out engagement become something of a blitzkrieg; a rushing wave of Legionaries and support that took inch after inch without complication. With the battle lines drawn, it was simply a waiting game.

Hours later, the reports came in; the Special Forces had laid their charges and were in position. Upon the order from the General, the explosions were heard, the mortars started to rain hell as per their fire missions and the first attack began; infantry backed up by armor and air support.

The sensation of war and the death that was assured filled his soul. This was his calling.

 

[Sian Jerikao]

This was his first real experience with war among the Sith. Or whatever tiny excuse of a war you could consider the fight taking place among the ruins of Chandaar, it was so...liberating. It was a gracious thing to be given new experiences, and of course a gracious thing to be given free reign to feast: Sian firmly doubted anyone would protest him slurping away at the brain of one of the royalists.

Silently he had joined [member="Vestille Thumahra"] the Anzat had no interest in interfering with the far more experienced man and his work. Merely watching with a deference, it was calculated of course: a predatory instinct he couldn’t quite shake from his being: he had seen the superiority that ran through the blood of some Sith, to make himself of a different stock would be useful.

Once he felt that thunder of artillery, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Nar Shadda industry. An amused smile coming across his face for a brief moment before continuing on as silent as before to the General himself.

“If I may, do we begin the advance, General?”

He couldn’t hide his eagerness, the Acolyte wanted to fight, wanted to kill, wanted to feast. It was impossible to hide when it was so close.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Royalist Stronghold, Chandaar​

Objective III :: Eliminate the Royalist Threat​

Assisted By: [member="Sian Jerikao"]​

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Like clockwork, the Legion advanced, leaving a path of blood and fire in their wake.

With the attack still being so early in the morning, the sun had yet to rise. The land was pitch black in darkness, this no doubt gave the Legion the advantage of equipment that negated the loss of visibility and gave the Special Forces that had led the way the openings they needed-- This, however, was not the only boon of the chosen time. The beast had kept quiet, kept under wraps, seething and waiting for a time where it could find itself released, able to bask in the glory of bloodshed, conflict and the misery that spawned from the environment which the General thrived. Now, here on Chandaar, the patience had paid off, the tugging and addictive surge that Vestille gained when allowing it to release was finally allowed to burst free from its cage. His back became host to the two snake-like demons that sat over both shoulders, their sets of red eyes focused on the enemies ahead and their teeth ready to feast; amid the sounds of guns and screaming, their repugnant hisses and growls that vibrated through the very soul signaled their desire to join the fray-- Writhe in the blood and the dirt like a feral creature.

It would have its time, soon enough.

With the Acolyte's approach, one of the serpents looked towards him, both sets of eyes on each side flickering and bathing in the force sensitivity that it could no doubt sense within the man. A venomous hiss followed before it returned its attention to the front. Vestille looked to his side, his helmeted gaze taking an observation of the Acolyte just as the beast had albeit this time the Acolyte was given a nod; "Begin the assault, leave none alive." it was with that statement that the General drew his sword, the ripple of the corrupted songsteel being vibrated from its scabbard sent a sound across the battlefield. To his men, they knew that it was a sign that the Demon General was to join them upon the field of battle. To the enemies upon the field? They had no idea what awaited them. With that, the primal and unholy screeches of the demons signaled his charge forward, joining the advance that sought to break through the Royalist lines. Through blaster bolt, explosive impacts of the mortars and the armor's heavy armaments, Vestille charged; it wasn't until he made contact with the enemy that the sword cleaved, the sickening song of the Executor rang out across the enemy lines, the bell tolls signalling the fate of those who dared defy the Sith Empire. The beast took to the contact with ecstasy, surging forward and ripping through flesh and armor with teeth as sharp as needles; consuming and slaughtering as the two worked in tandem.

The Reaper released himself, allowing the animal to break from its cage and feast. Yet the Royalists held firm. An act of defiance against what seemed to be a spawn from hell itself. They fought for their King and for their homeland.

A fruitless endeavor, leading down only one path. Death.

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

OBJECTIVE: BYOO “Remove Royalist Atmospheric Forces”

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It all starts the same. Aboard a Star Destroyer: Keira and Mastiff Squadron had been given some free reign for fighting on Chandaar, just go and remove any forces that decide to show themselves in atmosphere, sadly no battles that great black void of space for the Squadron to have their fun with. Atmospheric was fun as anything else.

Keira herself had gotten a half rude awakening after the warship exited from Hyperspace. Grumbling she rose from a rather comfortable nap and a pleasant dream, stretching out with a yawn: seemingly not caring a smidge she was going out on the attack. Those shiny spec ops forces had to do their work either way, she had a good few hours before the actual fighting got started.

Course’ Empire expected a lot out of them and Keira got no chance to enjoy those few moments before she was right back into the flight suit.

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With a hiss she finished putting on the flight suit she had become so familiar with, a grin across her face as she remembered all the pleasant times had in it: threw up in it three times, almost died in it twice. Good statistics in her mind, the rest of Mastiff Squadron was doing the same, the usual suit up routine they had done a dozen times over: the usual banter included, Mastiff-3 commonly referred to as Azure was the first to spit something out at the young Corellian:

“How many more will I be snaggin’ from ya’ today Hotshot?”

They all called her Hotshot when they could, Mastiff-7 was her proper designation but who used that crap? Being a Corellian AND an Interceptor pilot made the name next to impossible to actually go and escape. Not like they were wrong.

Azure was a rough looking Weequy man with a rough voice to match, the two got along the best: both had been pirates before joining into the Starfighter Corps like the rest of them. Well, more like forced into it: Azure had been always a bomber to Missile Boat Pilot before or after joining, that same bomber had turned against his lot real fast once the Empire came around. The only thing Azure about the Weequy was that he loved that color when a good bit of ordinance blasted a Starfighter to glowing bits.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say you old bone head.”

The Corellian had a grin across her face, it was the competition: go around and see who could get the most kills out of the bunch: the usual competition that constantly continued to change.

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With that the Squadron had suited up, she was back in the seat of her Interceptor: the usual sight she had grown so used to now: hands gripped on the controls and with the call from down below the Squadron zoomed out along with the other fighter squadrons given the task of totally removing the atmospheric presence of the royalists. No mercy. No respite. And a whole lot of good booze on the other end of it.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Barancar​

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HIMS Elidibus​

Objective IV - BYOO​

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[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bzWSJG93P8[/media]​

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Aboard the Elidibus, Rear Admiral Fiolette Yvarro oversaw the approach to the Barancar system. Once part of the Kingdom of Cron, it had been the site of numerous shipyards under Xim's empire. Now it would belong to the Sith Empire and produce vessels for the Armada, the Elidibus serving on behalf of Darth Arcanix moved among the stars its sleek onyx hull seemed to reflect the stars around it. Inside the Elidibus overlooking the bridge's open floor Admiral Yvarro with her arms at her back watched as the planet came into view. Behind the massive dreadnought emerged the rest of Darth Arcanix's forces save for a small token force that had departed with her to assist with her personal objectives elsewhere. "We have resistance, sensors reading anti-imperialist forces on approach."

"No one said it would be easy, eliminate them."

A simple nod of acknowledgment from the officer on deck as he moved to give the orders, "disable the shipyard armament systems, let's avoid as much damage to them as possible." A verbal confirmation of her order was relayed as the fleet moved into position. Barancar much like the rest of the former Kingdom of Cron would bow to the Empire through one means or another. Traditional wedge shaped ships cast a shadow over the shipyards as they loomed over them and continued forward. While anti-imperialist forces were fast on their approach. Crews and gunners reacted as the red alert was sounded throughout the Elidibus.

"Weapons ready."

"Fire."

 

[The Amalgam]

Objective: 1

Arrived in: Corrupted Flesh (X-70B Phantom Class Yacht)

Armed with: First Degree Burn (Laser Pistol)

Skin Shears (Purple Double Bladed Lightsaber)

Wearing: Resistance Epidermis.

The Crawling Flesh had descended through the Atmosphere of Chandaar with its limited stealth systems fully engaged.

The Saaraishash had sent her to help with the clean-up of Ambaril. It was a cesspit of gangs and infighting and pollution. The pollution could be fixed with a bit of spit and polish. But its undesirables were in the way. There were no families in the city, not that the deeply unpleasant creature piloting the vintage infiltration craft wouldn't have visited death on such had they been here, but it certainly made the task more uncomplicated. Besides, no sane person would have stuck around in this hellhole to raise a family anyway.

Perfect excuse to cut loose. She was good at the whole quiet and patient infiltration, and for a while had actually considered going on the assignment to topple the king. But she so rarely got to just...play...

The Yacht, the only real luxury in life she truly possessed, settled down on a bare patch of land she knew wouldn't sink into the swampy mess around it. It was well hidden and as she planned to cut loose soon with the Darkness, a non-issue.

The Amalgam rose from her seat in the cockpit, her off-white, skintight combat suit clinging to a deliberately voluptuous frame, face crafted just as expertly, a moe-cut of black hair and a set of purple eyes, beautiful but missing something if stared into directly, blinked back the hated emerald gaze of Uri Udinia in the back of a twisted mind tied to the darkness of others before her as she headed to her bedroom to retrieve her weapons, staring at the captive Rodian man she had acquired, tied up on her bed. Her bedroom was nearly as unsettling as the woman herself, the walls plastered with photos of Uri Udinia, better known as Maple Harte. Uri's name was scribbled in white on the walls and floor.

"Ah, I forgot about you!" she said in a friendly voice, though her eyes as she stared were dead purple stones as she took a seat next to him. He started screaming through his gag.

"This must seem terribly unfair, doesn't it?" she cooed softly, though there was an element of gloating in her words. Her hand slid across the bed and he started struggling and screaming harder.

"Me, I just pick your house out of all the other ones I could have chosen, introduce myself, kill your wife, take you for later...its actually very exhausting work, being that cold-hearted. Because, you know, millions of years of evolution have conditioned us against acting so ruthlessly towards others. Fortunately, if sufficiently disciplined...one can ignore evolutionary whim...at least, all the parts inclined to mercy," The Amalgam said with an unsettling, empty smirk as she faced the Rodian, retrieving the black, jeweled hilt she had lain next to him.

"You know, if the insurance companies had the...fortitude, shall we say? They would insure against 'Death by Force Adept'. But they'd go bankrupt for certain. We're more common than the plague. Now, what-to-do-with-you..." she pondered, tapping his chest.

The Rodian would not stop thrashing, desperately trying to get free of the bed frame he'd been tied to.

She continued to smile emptily at him and his resistance. He went still as a hand was placed om his left arm. She knew then what to do.

"Standard death won't do for you...not when I can do this..."

Her face melted and rearranged itself in the head of his wife. The Rodian started screaming even harder as lesions started to appear on it and she activated one end of her lightsaber...

Afterward...

The Amalgam moved ever closer to the barriers of Ambaril, broken down and infested with gangs. From its architecture and every tid bit of scrap she came across that suggested a long faded glory, she supposed it had been quite the city at one point. She used the Force to turn invisible and silence her movements as she sprinted forward, taking out the perimeter guard by sneaking up on one guarding the large, ruined gates she was making her entry towards and snapping his neck from behind. She took his grenades sneaking towards a mortar emplacement where some gang members were keeping an eye on the road ahead.

She activated, tossed it and ran. She smiled as she heard them scream when it went off.

Tonight was a night for cutting loose, she thought as she went to meet the reinforcements who were all running to the site of the grenade blast, her purple blades appearing out of thin air as she decloaked, slashing and spinning violently into the largest mass of them, bolts passing by her body or bouncing off her blades as they whirled through hips and faces and weapons, never ceasing in movement. She gave free reign to her Force Rage, letting it distort her deceptively petite frame into something more muscular, face going pale, eyes blood shot as the darkside both enhanced her alchemy infused body and accelerated its decay by a factor of three as she savagely pushed through them, hacking away at everything in her blades radius.

 

[Kotos]

Objective: I: Restore Ambaril
Allies: [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]

Chandaar wasn’t much different from most worlds she’d come across. Crime was rampant and any semblance of authority was either bought off or had their proverbial arm twisted by whatever gang ruled the streets. The slums she’d grown up in ran that way, most slums did. But in Ambaril, the opportunistic scum managed to crawl from the gutter and spread through the city, taking advantage of a skeletal planetary government. Zeynab was sure that even the utopia worlds—places that wouldn’t let scum like her near by a lightyear—had their own seedy underbelly. Crime was everywhere.

But the criminals here were disorganized. Infighting was rampant and gangs were at war with each other, curbing their power and preventing Chandaar from being effectively ruled by criminals. Coming from a similar environment, Zeynab couldn’t help but think that she could have done it better.

“And they are where, again?”

Her tone was polite, almost musical but the look on her face was just a bit too pleasant. In one hand she held an ornate dagger, point pressing against the throat of a man she’d caught by the hair. He swallowed thickly, eyes daring to shift from her to the corpses on the ground—charred to a crisp, nothing more than cinders and vague scent of roasted flesh by now.

“I told you,” He murmured, a tremor shaking on his breath. “In the warehouse two…two blocks from here. But there’s a lot of them, like I said it’ll be...hard for just two…!”

Her hand twitched and the tip of the blade pierced gently, enough to sever a few capillaries and keep him on his toes. As if he already wasn’t.

Are you blind. She wanted to take his eyes for that, carve one out of its socket and pierce the other just right, just enough to distort his vision. Did you not see how thoroughly we dispatched you lot.

They didn’t need a hostage and he’d be more trouble than keeping him around would be worth. Without further preamble, the knife plunged into his windpipe, twisted and withdrew. He fell to the ground in a heap, gurgling on his own blood and gasping for air. Zey knelt down, wiped her blade on his shirt and rifled through his pockets before retrieving a device.

“Well that was…nothing we couldn’t find out on our own.” She snorted in laughter, turning towards the woman who she had accompanied. Kaalia Pavanos was a pretty red-haired Sith Lord, someone who had far outranked Zeynab in both skill and title. But in the journey to Chandaar, she found her to be friendly and pleasant.

She held up the datapad she’d pilfered from the now-corpse. “Got his info, at least. Even if he lied, we can find this place pretty quick, yeah?”

 

[Sian Jerikao]

"Understood."

In what seemed like a mere moment, that aura of overt politeness seemed to vanish towards cold and uncaring. Sian had showed just how two-faced he truly was, though just two might have been an understatement, he was a predator at heart. He was an Anzat, it came to him like a second nature. Without another word he turn and began a brisk walk over to the battlefield, he could barely contain himself as he unsheathed his own blade: a basic Vibrosword, it's properties were none. Unlike the General he merely swung a sword that he had grown accustomed to while training on the Academy on Anzat itself.

Well, a brisk walk didn't last too long. He was barely contained in his eagerness, he quickly began to break into a soft run to catch up to the front line: there was no bursts of potent force energy, nor some great power unleashed. He merely began to jog because he wanted to kill, to feast, to slaughter, to leave a vicious and bloody mess.

Sian was the predator, the royalists all had now become his prey. He was the predator unleashed, all that he had contained in himself while looking at those juicy meals the other Acolytes were. All that was so horribly contained within him, he felt so...free...now that he was on the battlefield.

[member="Vestille Thumahra"]

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Barancar​

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HIMS Elidibus​

Objective IV - BYOO​

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[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nohQReM7BpI[/media]​

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The Elidibus's main guns focused on the lead star destroyer, a moment of delay as the weapons tracked their target. Gun crews on their aim awaited the order to fire, and when it was given the ever damning sound of silence as they fired on the star destroyer. Streaks of crimson closed in on the anti-imperialist's contact made as the shields held, but Force only knew how long the enemies of the empire would last. Fast attack and front-line Imperial vessels promptly launched themselves well ahead of the dreadnought. Not too far behind were Revanche-class star destroyers that would make short work of the throng of fighters headed toward the Elidibus.

Smaller anti-missile and ion bearing vessels departed for the shipyards. TIE Fighters launched for the belly of the Elidibus to escort such ships, "status on the shipyards?"

"Seventeen percent, we've got incoming."

"Of course, engage them with the second group," Fiolette ordered and watched as a part of the Elidibus's forces departed to intercept the next attack group. These anti-imperialists should be commended on their spirit, however futile. "Finish the star destroyer with attack Cresh-Nth-Four."

"Overall system status?"

"Twenty-one percent."

"Excellent, inform Darth Arcanix of approximate system subjugation time." Fiolette then ordered as she stood to watch over the bridge, officers moved through the command trenches as information was then relayed to Darth Arcanix herself.

 

[Mythos]

Objective 3: Assassinate King Sigmund/ Assist [member="Sian Jerikao"] and [member="Vestille Thumahra"]
Location: The Outskirts of the Royalist Stronghold in Chandar
Gear: Sith Assassin loadout

Once a very long time ago [member="Darth Ophidia"] killed the King of Onderon, today her apprentice killed the king of Chandar. The Demon general had the ground, his forces were more than enough to draw out the royalist resistance, Mythos had another mission entirely. His mission was one of the Sith Assassins and it was clear, the King had to die and he would die by the Ax on Mythos' back. With the dagger, the rudis and the Ax Mythos charged into the rear flank of the enemy while the demon general handled their front. Theirs was the horde of the royalist, his was the head of their king.

Using the skills he learned while in the old order Mythos used his force enhanced speed to duck and dive from and to cover and concealment, hiding the bulk of his weapons and the massive frame of his body only covered by the black cloak of a Sith Lord. It was not long before he encountered opposition yet while big, he was far from slow. His ax and rudis unclipped from his back and his enemies were chopped down to size, each swing tracing a black shadow behind them that only those with force sight could see.

Chaos was everywhere, Mythos was in the crossfire of his own allies but this mission required such risks.

Inside defensive line of the fortress he could make out how effective the chaos had been, blaster fire and thermal detonator blasts already were igniting all around him. According to the intel, the king was at the highest tower and Mythos was to get there alone. Proficient in the battlefield he was now to prove he was equally as deadly in the shadows, the apprentice of Ophidia today would match her accomplishments, yet another taunt at the neck of his master who he, out of respect, wanted to separate from her shoulders.

From where he was to the edge of the great tower entrance was about sixhundred meters and between him and his destination several footsoldiers and battledroids littered the field, taking and returning fire. Mythos hid behind the ledge he had climbed, below him the patrol routes that took him around the outskirts of the fortress and in front of his face laser wise and no doubt several mines. He knew what he had to do.

Using a force leap he launched himself from the ledge and over the laser wire, as he landed his ax came down on a droid and shattered the durasteel and electric components with such an impact that he felt absolutely no resistance as his alchemized weapon tore through it. He did not stop, his movements were as fluent as the water that crossed the rivers of Jar'Kai. One hand went up and he let telekinesis send the remains of his fallen foe directly into the path of two oncoming soldiers. The power of the ax and rudis amplified his already impressive mastery of telekinesis so much that when the split droid rammed into plasteel armor it went through the armor and tore the soldiers apart. What remained in the floor looked more akin to the blunt trauma bodies had in speeder crashes. Mythos arrived on the battlefield like a force of nature and after this his aim was to get to that tower and start climbing.

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[Kaalia Pavanos]

Location: Ambaril, Chandaar
Objective: Assess a promising acolyte & clean up the streets
Ally: [member="Zeynab Kazat"]

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In order to prevent the rats from running away from you the moment they see you coming, one had to visually blend in with the rats. Chandaar's capitol had a rampant infestation and turned what was once a shining city into a nest of crime and filth, something Darth Avacyn normally cared very little for. Those places were simply to be avoided unless there was a specific reason to be there- criminals would be criminals, and it was better to let them all be concentrated and deface a single planet rather then letting them spread out. Now, however, the Sith Empire had come to bring the planet under its rule. And there was no place for filth in their nation. So when the rats had to be removed the exterminators were sent down, among them the Lady of Defiance. The armor she normally wore during outings were replaced with a much more casual outfit, consisting of plain blue jeans, an ink black leather jacket zipped open to reveal a plain white top, and a sturdy pair of black boots. To complete the look used to blend in with the environment her hair was put in an intentionally messy ponytail. The look fit her fairly well, if she said so herself.

The one who had seen the 'before' and 'after' of the woman's transformation into a street rat was also the one who accompanied her, a promising acolyte by the name of Zeynab Kazat. She often invited Sith of lower stature to join her in various outings for them to gain experience, and for herself to get to know as many of the ones who would one day rise up to the food chain as possible. Some of them would become an apprentice of hers, some would find other avenues of growth but remained an ally, some she wouldn't see again. Creating alliances with lords and ladies granted power, but aiding in the growth of acolytes and knights felt fulfilling. Both had very real merit.

And so, Avacyn and Zeynab would be working together.

The moment the helpless man crumpled onto the ground after Zeynab had finished her business with him, the redhead, who was leaning with her back against a wall with one foot propped up against it too, kicked herself off and forwards towards the acolyte. The Nasvalo was eager to do the interrogations necessary to track down one of the particularly problematic crime syndicates' ringleaders and she saw no reason to object or interrupt. Perhaps the deaths were somewhat unnecessary, had it been her she would've made sure they were brought to justice in court to act as an example, but it didn't very much bother her. It got the job done, that was what mattered.

"But it was the most efficient way," Avacyn replied to her accomplice's remark, although she refrained from joining in with her laughter. "Besides, I don't know about you but I'm not all that interested in staying for much longer than is necessary." The entire planet was honestly quite depressing. The sheer amount of wasted glory and potential was at the head of why that was.

Zeynab would hold up the datapad, giving Avacyn the opportunity to take a look at it for a moment. The exact contents, however, were yet to be revealed to her. "You'd be surprised how many goons of his caliber," her head tilted towards the most recent corpse, "lie until their dying breath, even with a knife at their throat. Never hurts to double check."

 

[The Amalgam]

The man gasped, then choked as his body withered, neck in The Amalgam's grasp. His comrades around him sliced open or pulverized on the city's perimeter. The Shi'ido knealt over him, smiling in delight as his eyes whited over and he finally mummified.

She had neutralized enough of the perimeter guard that it would be at least a short while before they could muster reinforcements properly, so she took the opportunity to cloak herself, fully replenished. She shut her staff off as she darted through the gates, finding the ruined, garbage strewn city to have a smell worse than the underworks she had inhabited once.

Fires in dumpsters,, trash in the streets, husks of ancient vehicles and crashed starships, gangs of men and women too heavily armed for their own good, but just enough to make interesting for her as she stealthed her way deeper into the streets. They all had their guns pointed in her direction, so she had to be extra carefull to avoid stepping in waters or deep mounds of garbage as she got closer to their firing line, drawing her unactivated staff as she got closer.

She would have to be tactical about this. Strike too early and they would react too quickly. Strike in the wrong place and she wouldn't get enough of them.

She spotted a cluster of them together. Some of them had grenades--"

"NOW!" she heard a woman yell.

Only her Force Senses, which had the briefest of time to warn her, saved her from the severe amount of blaster bolts that screamed in her direction. She decloaked, her purple adegan blades whipping around a petite frame at high speed, at least compensating for her lack of knowledge in actual Soresu in that no bolt hit her. But it was coming in so fast and heavy she couldn't advance. How had she been spotted?

Through the screaming streams of bolts she slapped aside randomly with her staff she saw and sensed the answer. A Miralukan. Strong presence in the Force. Likely trained. She was atop the roof of a burnt out and ancient hanger, wearing black and red armor, a black sash across where her eyes would normally be present on a base human.

Her hair was blond, cropped short, and in her hands were twin longswords.

She recognized her. Merith. One of Ursula's friends. She had been tracked here. And an ambush had been set up.

She had to think fast. It was only a matter of time before one of these lug heads got the bright idea to toss a grenade. But she could not advance under such heavy fire and her reflexes were already at the end of their superhuman limit.

She could not advance so she decided to go up. She leapt with the Force, but much of the fire traveled up with her, forcing her to deflect shots even in mid-air as she sailed over them. She unleashed a heavy bolt of purple lightning from her hands that smacked into one with a grenade on his belt, causing it to detonate and caused a commotion among the others as she landed smiling like the insane murderer that she was as the explosion gave her the opening she needed as she sprinted towards them, her purple double blade being seperated into two lightsabers as she Force Jumped, channeling her hate into her motions, savagely dismembering the first thug they came into contact with.

She really couldn't help but be disappointed in the gangs' short sighted nature: If they had really hoped to mount an effective defense they would have come together and at least gotten the garbage off these streets. It was times like this she could really appreciate the order that the Sith brought...any government that had dared base itself on the Republic would no doubt have sought to reform such wretches...but she knew these types. She'd had to survive them in the underworks in her youth.

They never reformed. Even when it would have certainly benefited them. It was an observation that could have been applied to The Amalgam also, but both vanity and hubris would prevent her from realizing this. At least, until much later. But, by then it would be far, far too late for it to be of any use to her.

As she cut viciously into the next gangmember, she Force Jumped backward, still deflecting expertly aimed bolts, although because she had thinned their numbers, they were no longer able to concentrate such a high amount of blaster fire as when she'd been given away by Merith. Was she leading this particular group?

She barrowed a technique from form five, deflecting back some of the shots back in the general direction they had come from. But because her Niman only barrowed the technique, it was not refined or as precise as it would have been if she had been using actual Shien. The shots tended to veer wider and quite a lot of gangsters managed to dodge the return fire, but at the very least she was now able to advance, thanks in part to her extreme agility.

Blades of violet ripped through weapons and fleah, not a one of them truly good at what they did individually when they didn't have overwhelming numbers. The Amalgam made them pay for their laziness as her blades tore two more in half, then tearing into the skulls of three more, that savage, ear to ear grin of hers never leaving her face, set under eyes that had gone a poisoned, decayed yellow. They were starting to run, starting to retreat--

A sensation of hideous pain from the light nearly made her double over in agony. A bolt glanced her shoulder and she could only deflect the shots of the remaining stragglers.

She moved in any direction to get away from the light, ducking blaster fire as she turned to face its source, her face half melted from loss of focus.

Merith stood, holding a circular amulet bearing the image of a tree with many large and small branches, the leaves composed of small green gems, the Jedi Order's symbol etched into four points, glowing brightly.

The Amalgam recoiled, retreating down the street. "The Talisman of Memphus!" she snarled animalistically, her flesh starting to go a corpse pallor. She almost couldn't block the incomng blasterfire and ducked into an ancient apartment complex as more gangmembers showed up to give chase.

"Remember, I want her alive!" Merith shouted, putting away the holy Talisman..."If you kill her, you don't get paid!"

 

[Djorn Bline]

Objective 2

The Inquisitor was very upset lately.

Hell, lately? He was upset almost every time of the day. The few instances he was content and calm was bringing conspirators against the Empire in the light of justice and order.

Now what could it be that was irritating him? Recently he was given orders to keep an eye on a [member="Darth Maliphant"]. A name that he had been hearing since his interrogation of another Sith Lord by the name of [member="Darth Vesper"]. There had been...minor inconveniences ever since those two made contact. Issues that could potentially be a thorn for the Sith Empire. While Djorn didn’t hesitate from making sure Maliphant would be compromise for the Empire, he wasn’t happy in his current situation.

Being stationed near the mines and quarries of Chandaar, and making sure that the Imperial Engineer Corps would revive these mines of old. A unit of Saaraishash agents was under Bline’s command with a garrison of Imperial soldiers to ensure the security of the engineers and no potential hostiles would disrupt their progress.

It infuriated Djorn more so that his abilities were wasted such a task. He could be infiltrating the King’s Palace and execute them in the name of the Sith Empire; however, his orders from the upper echelons of the Saaraishash exaggerated that this was an important task to be completed.

Orders were orders unfortunately; now Djorn just had to wait for arrival of Darth Maliphant along with his personnel and equipment to aid with reconstruction of the mines of Chandaar.

 

[Mythos]

Objective 3: Kill the King/Assist the Demon General [member="Vestille Thumahra"] and [member="Sian Jerikao"]
Location: Scaling the Tower

It was one thing to hear about the 7th field army, it was another thing entirely to behold it from this side of the battlefield. Although he was far from the edge of battle and covered by the blanket of stealth he could still see the battlefield he had just crossed to arrive here. It was now only a matter of getting to the highest tower, luckily he had the aid of the special forces of the 7th field army. Like Mythos they too specialized in using night vision devices and military special operation protocols, they rolled together more smooth than a twilek dancer and loose credits. As Mythos cleared a path so to did the SIF-101 blaster rifle when it systematically eliminated targets with the added functionality of stealth modifications. Mythos was really beginning to like that particular rifle.

Once in position their locations and detail status were fed to the general himself through their specialized encrypted communicators, the first phase of the operation was done, the team was in position and still enjoyed the element of surprise for the moment. Once they had secured their position and reported back to the general they began their slow ascent through the outside of the tower, each team dropping off after the tenth story and leaving between each other five stories. It would be slow and tedious but that was for the specops teams, Mythos had easier ways to get to the top.

Using new prototype Sith Assassin technology Mythos commissioned a special short use gel that he applied to the soles of his boots that theoretically, in testing, allowed the user to walk on solid surfaces like magnetic clamps without the risk of triggering magnetic anomaly detectors. The only problem was the testing had been sparse, with varying results of success and unreliable to a fatal degree as several test subjects found out. What Mythos applied now was in every way a prototype, the clear and almost invisible gel seemed to have no weight at all.

"You sure that's going to work?" Senior Officer O'maley asked him, the only one of the team he had spoken to before in depth due to their birthplace being the same. Mythos shrugged, barely noticeable under the black leather cloak he had over him that looked more like broken blacksilk than Terentatek. "Only one way to be sure"

He put the first boot on the durasteel outside of the tower, instantly he felt the space that he had filled under his boot vanish, the boot itself standing on the durasteel now with no adhesive. Mythos narrowed his eyes and brought his leg back to try again when suddenly he felt a tug from the wall as soon as his foot left more than half a meter from the tower. The team around him still checked their sectors, their fighting skill and knowledge of technology came in handy as they provided a type of stealth field that was more akin to camouflage for them all. Their unit emblem, or team emblem was amusing to Mythos, as it was two skulls apparently human overlapping one another, which Mythos quickly made note of.

"See you on the top skull heads." Mythos said, flexing his thighs and bursting into motion, running with force enhanced speed up the tower as if he was on flat ground, evading search lights and detection.​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Argai​

​

Frigid wind swept over the rocky plains, whirlwinds of dust rising into the air to stir about the ground before dying away as quickly as the wind's breath. This world had once been of great importance in galactic antiquity, the Spartan and utilitarian throneworld of the ancient conqueror, Xim the Despot. Now all that remained was rock and ruin, any palaces of his that remain picked clean of treasures and left to wither beneath the harsh weather conditions of the world.

The settlement of Sah Gosta had remained unchanged since the earliest days of Xim's Empire over twenty-five thousand years ago, serving as a sanctuary for the most bitter space-faring pilots and the occasional local pirate. Since the coming of the Sith Empire, the pirate population had dwindled significantly across the frontier, with the notable exception of Argai. There, pirate culture remained strong and thriving, and it was not uncommon to find pirates who had been previously harrying Imperial shipping lanes to be meandering about its pubs and brothels.

A shuttle, black as night, emerged from the storm clouds brewing in the west. It circled the city once, twice, and then settled down in one of its many spaceports. A single entity emerged from the boarding ramp that lowered to the dust-covered floor, a heavy cloak of maroon concealing his features except for the pair of luminous eyes that glared out from beneath the hood. It look up to the scant few buildings that managed to peek up over the starport's walls, and grimaced in distaste.

"Such a waste, the legacy of the Despot is squalor."

The Sith Emperor chuckled as he disappeared into the streets beyond the starport, moving alone and without escort through the city's narrow passageways. "I will show them true glory."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Chandaar Mines
Objective 2

Interacting with: [member="Djorn Bline"]
_____________________________________

The clouds breached as the Omicron-Class Imperial Shuttle slowly brought itself down to the surface of Chandaar, its ion engines offering a slight hum that left nothing to the imagination for a few hundred meters. Forwarding its landing credentials, the temporary imperial dock opened for the ship to dock, its landing gear offering a hard metallic clunk as it finally made touchdown. Air rushed from its various pressurized internals before giving way to opening; from the rear a number of professionals walked out, some from Blackwell Industries, others from the Imperial military.

Maliphant followed in suite, bringing himself to the building that held the various hierarchy that was tasked with rebuilding the massive mines of Chandaar. Due to Maliphant’s extensive experience with mining through his company, he was a prime choice to be given the task to utilize imperial assets to subsidize their initial construction before transferring them over to private organizations loyal to the Sith Empire; that being Blackwell Industries.

As Maliphant entered the building, an assistant quickly told him of the man that was waiting for him. Djorn Bline, someone he hadn’t heard of before; but that was his profession after all. Maliphant simply nodded before moving in the direction of the Inquisitor, offering him a subtle smile and a hand to shake;

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bline. You already know, but I’m Major Dorian Harper, or Darth Maliphant if you feel like being formal.”, he said with quick laugh.

“I assume you’re here to help assist in the reconstruction of the Chandaar Mines?”

[member="Djorn Bline"]

 

[Sian Jerikao]

There was no surprise that Sian became Sith as he so viciously ran to the front of the fighting, like some small child running through the streets of Abregadeo Raw, such was his eagerness to simply engage in simple and absolute carnage. The men of the Legion around him meant nothing, the flashes of orbital fighting meant nothing, this Demon General meant nothing, he was consumed by that need to fight, to hunt, and most of all he was consumed by his ravening hunger to simply become an icon of raw violence.

Oh, how he did excel at being an icon.

His body moved without much thought and at a speed that was simply unnatural his facade disappeared now that this raw and savage fighting had begun. A quick slash fell a solider h had nearly leaped onto before simply parting the body that was in his way, another a quick jab to fell another: his heart naught but a bloody mess from his blade. Sian was no simple fresh recruit to the Sith from a backwater nothingness, he was a trained killer and a seasoned predator (in the human way of viewing things at least). His cold eyes paid no attention to the advancing forces of the Legion, they were smart men: stay out of the Sith's way.

Oh and he completely demolished the facade with his last little bit of slaughter upon that sad group of royalists. Clasping the man's head in a death-grip between his hands, two fleshly tendrils burst from his face and violently dug through the man's nose, Sian stood there and feasted in the raw chaos of the battlefield, he knew few would remember the grizzly display. Once finished he threw the empty husk aside, tendrils disappearing. And he advanced with a wicked grin, he loved war.

@Mythos @Vestille Thumahra

 

[The Amalgam]

Objective: 1

Post: 3

Sub-objective: Survive.


The Talisman of Memphus! Of all the rotten, Bogan-less things that schutta could have dug up out of some cave or out-of-the-way-to-a-rediculous-degree sacrifical site--!

The Shi'ido tried not to panic as she ran deeper into the ancient Apartment complex that she suspected had catered to the wealthy elite...simply too many frecoes of ancient Tion battles, made of an expensive white jade, that hinted to the city's once glorious past. One more reason the filth walking its streets didn't deserve it.

But the Talisman had changed the game. The foul object generated and focused the light. Just gazing on it could bring stinging pain if one was aligned to the dark. And when one's spirit was as corrupt with the Dark Side as she was, just the short level of exposure had poisoned her. She had regained control over her shape but its was starting to sag, still a corpse pallor, the eyes a clouded over yellow. She fed on someone soon or it would start to rot, and when it started to rot, there would go her agility and stamina.

She staggered in the dark into the remains of what looked like a private bath. The remains of the ancient tub were as long and wide as the circular room itself, the decaying murals worshiped by burnt out, melted candles and some incantations she knew for a fact to be distinctly unholy because she had used them herself. It seemed the ritual, whatever it had been, hadn't worked...you don't leave a mess like that if it worked.

What had been going on here--?

The shouts of gangmembers two floors below her and her force senses telling her it was at least sixteen men heavily armed made her cloak her presence in the Force and keep moving upward, trying to buy time and figure out how to take down that many in such closed quarters. The painful tingle in her flesh reminded her of just how close by the Talisman was. Even when it wasn't focused it was still dangerous. She put a hand to her brow. Her flesh was slick and starting to crack and flake off. Needed to feed it soon. The exposure had done worse damage than she had thought.

The Talisman of Memphus was a Jedi Artifact. It was designed to repel Sith Spawn and spirits, or otherwise beings so corrupt that the light could cause severe pain just by being in their vicinity. She had encountered many a mighty foe in the past who had wielded it...this hadn't been her first encounter. It was the fourth, actually. Long had she desired to corrupt such a 'pure' object. Always had it escaped her grasp.

Not today. The ones who had used it in the past had been worthy. Merith wasn't even worthy to lick their boots.

She felt the beginnings of her muscles starting to break down, the legs and arms growing weaker. She needed sustainance. Her queytek meditation failed and her dark presence once again started to spread throughout the building, doubtlessly alerting Merith to her exact location. She could already feel them move faster as Merith directed them to her location.

She couldn't run much longer. She had to preserve her strength until she reached someone to feed on. She drew her pistol and decided to rely on her magic. She felt them reach her floor as she took refuge in a decrepit, rotted library of brass columns and books, waited for them to come to her., hiding behind a rusted metal shelf of books, the half destroyed murals in the gigantic room she had found her way to, the only light coming from the destroyed walls and ceiling showing the garbage fires outside. She felt them enter the room.

She pointed at the ground, unleashing the black chant:

"The Unholy Spirit licks my foe's gamey flesh..."

The spiritual construct coalesced instantly, the Unholy Spirit of the Brain Demon sending her avatar to aid her. It was an emaciated, faceless Togrutan woman with lavender skin, and claws three inches long. It snarled, its bones snapping as the partly transluscent construct raced on all fours to the crowd of armed gangmembers, who screamed as they opened fire at the snarling ghost creature, disappating it, but the moment they had taken to turn their blasters cost them, as The Amalgam had leapt out of cover and opened fire at exposed heads, thin beams of red drilling through bone and frying brain. She downed seven before they managed to return fire, their bolts incinerating the still intact books and melting unarmored shelves. She returned fire, and then turned to her primary and favorite spell:

"Unholy Spirit, pour forth my hatred..." she seethed as she fired.

Purple light erupted from her throat and she spat pout a jet of purple fire that torched the area in a psychic fire that did no damage but caused severe depression, loss of morale, and suicidal thoughts. The men were screaming in despair as the Amalgam force-pulled one to her, starting to drain him only to feel the hated pain of the Talisman get closer. She drained enough to render her victim an old man but not enough that she felt she was out of the red zone. Sure enough, she saw Merith enter and she opened fire, only to feel the hated Ashla that polluted the metal be focused on her once more. But she was ready this time.

She focused her own corrupt spirit by holding out her hand, channeling herself on its power as Merith entered the room with it in her hand, its holy inscriptions directed at her. Even though it taxed her body, accelerated its decay as she focused her corruption to hold back its power, which hurt her greatly.

Seven of the gangmembers were strong enough to fight their despair off and opened fire, breaking her concentration, and causing her to take another exposure that rotted her a little more and caused her to make a break for it, running through blaster fire to another entrance, returning fire as she scrambled for another strategy to by more time. She spotted an ancient stair case heading downward and raced down it as fast as she could, still too fast for the three gangmembers that had cleverly anticipated her trying to escape this route, though she barely dodged their blasters as she shot two of them in the head as she reached the bottom, shooting the last in the knees and dragging him with strength derived from desperation to a balcony, where she fed on him so fast and indiscretely she derived no enjoyment from his mummification as her decay was again halted. She was four stories up but it wasn't a far leap to the next building. The still partly rotting Shi'ido force leapt to it, knowing Merith would follow. She had the Amalgam's scent. She was not the sort to give it up.

 

[Kotos]

Objective: I: Restore Ambaril
Allies: [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]

“Mm, doesn’t bother me much.” Zeynab’s tone was idle as she scrolled through the device’s contents. “I came up in a place like this. Home sweet home.” Could she survive here? Probably. But there was a reason she left the slums of Sel behind; nobody wanted to be there. Her ability with the Force and innate ruthlessness had earned her a spot with the Sith, albeit a low ranking one.

At her core, Zey was as much of a rat criminal as the corpses had been. “Looks like he’s recently visited that warehouse.” She turned the datapad around to show Avacyn the map, a pin dropped on the location he’d told her about. “Who knows if it is what he says it is. Should be worth it to check, right?” She looked over to the other woman for confirmation. If this really was a criminal hideout, it would be much easier to burn them all in one place rather than hunt two or three at a time.

As the pair made their way through the maze of streets, Zey let her eyes wander over the architecture of the buildings…or lack thereof. Lack of governmental involvement meant less room to repair infrastructure. A frown tugged at her lips. Even if the gangs saw themselves as ruling over the city, they were no leaders. Leaders took care of their people and homes for the greater good.

“What do the Sith plan to do with a place like this once we sweep the filth away?” There was no ‘if’. From what she’d seen of the Sith Empire—and it had only been a little so far—they were a powerhouse spreading across the northeast. Though she was a long way from home, Zey couldn’t help but entertain the thought of the Empire one day touching Manas. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

It wouldn't take long for the pair to reach their target-an industrial looking building with boarded windows and peeling paint. Home sweet home indeed.