Skirmish Lightning Strikes Twice [NIO vs TSE]

[Boram Predor]

Thanks to Kana Truden, Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt , and Irveric Tavlar for the help with the look. I am a caveman.

The Hand of the Emperor, Kascalion Giedfield , has deemed it wise to take a force of Sith Imperial Trooper's while the main bulk of the New Imperial Order front was focused on the joint effort on Muunilist and Mygeeto. While the struggle over there was dealt with and the NIO emerged victorious and thought they had time to lick there wounds, the shadow of the Hand of the Emperor loomed over Veroleem. The planetary forces on hand, as led by Boram Predor , have done little in the way of preventing Kascalion's besiegement of the desert world. In a rare cry for assistance from the Warlord, the New Imperial Order has spared what personnel and resources they can after the past invasions.

Shuttles have already delivered some advanced forces from the New Imperial Order as they prepare for the invading Sith forces to crash down upon them, while the majority of the backup forces are still emerging from hyperspace. The infamous Cult of Veroleem long having been thought disposed of has begun to resurface as well, using this chaos to find refuge and offer their skills to whatever Lords will take them. Though Moff Predor insists that they are nothing but snake oil merchants, some of what they offer can sound promising to the more alchemically minded.

It's a race for the protection of Veroleem, and the Sith Empire holds the upper hand for now. But with the backing of the New Imperial Order coming in from their core worlds, and the Sith, despite their strength at first glance, is too far to rely on any significant support from their Empire. The fate of Veroleem rests in the hands of New Imperial units rescuing the stronghold in time, before the vengeful might of the Sith Empire is able to claim victory to rally troops back home.

THEATRES OF WAR
​

The invasions forces of Kascalion Giedfield have already begun an invasion of the Capitol of Veroleem, squadrons of troopers decimating the outer reaches of the city into the deserts as well as the main body of the capital. The purpose of the fighting is to push through the more difficult and sandy terrain to make it into the rockier terrain that lays above the city and holds the capitol building where Boram Predor has been holed up since the beginning of the siege. Advanced Sith forces have already begun a siege on the main building while the bulk of his forces occupy the city below.

While the capital is of vital importance to the New Imperial Order, their focus is forced onto the Super Star Destroyer of Kascalion Giedfield, the Vodvtaki. Such a vessel pressuring a second front for the New Imperial Order must be destroyed with extreme prejudice. It is to that extent that the Imperials have sent as much naval power as could be spared from the front, even then it will be a difficult battle to overcome such a ship. Imperial forces have been ordered to destroy the vessel through any means necessary, whether that means internally or through exterior means.

But the ship is looming with the tenseness of the dark-side, and the influences of its master have created monstrosities in it's most vital locations.

This will be a decisive battle in the war against the Sith Empire one way or another, the prevalence of the New Imperial Order here could spell the end for one of the Sith's most imposing weapons and leaders. But the price of a loss here could spell a painful war for the New Imperials, forcing the bulk of their army to split their focus between two fronts of their ever expanding Empire.

OOC INFORMATION​

The theatres of war are just easy locations to find a start in, but if you and your partner agree, you can locate yourselves anywhere on Veroleem. I hear the core is pleasant this time of year. As mention in the OOC thread, this skirmish is meant to be lower pressure than the invasions are. As much as we are flavouring it to be a win or loss, there is no judging and all that matters is the story that you write yourselves!

With that said, I hope you all have an amazing skirmish!

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | Veroleem [In Orbit on board the Predator]
Objective | Destroy the Vodvtaki
Forces | Wraith Squadron
Tags | N/A

Finally some real Action. After the Battle of the Bloody Aurora , Wraith Squadron had taken alot of damage fighting against the Sith-Imperial Armada though by pure chance rienforcements had arrived pinning down the Sith-Imperial Fleet and forcing them to retreat. However now the Sith Empire was launching a daring counter attack against the New Imperial Order on Veroleem and just as usual Marlon Sularen and Wraith Squadron were the first ones to respond to the threat jumping out of hyperspace far away from the range of Kascalion Giedfield's Dreadnought's primary Weapons.

Marlon stood on his bridge as usual as his Fleet arrived at Veroleem ready to fight the Sith once more. Sularen had learned from his mistakes on Mygeeto having vastly underestimated his enemy during the Battle. But after carefully analyzing the Battle and taking notes of his mistakes , the tactics utilized by him and his enemy along with the movements and strategy of the enemy commander , Marlon Sularen was ready to strike back this time with a new Ship to unleash against the Sith-Imperial Armada , the Chariot-Class Missile Boat. Replacing the 23 Squadrons of Tie Bruisers and Tie Maulers , the Chariot Missile Boat was capable of taking out entire squadrons with a single wing of Missile Boats capable of taking down 2 Squadrons along with a Single Missile Boat carrying 42 Missile Launchers with all 23 Squadrons baring a total amount of 966 Missile Launchers. That was alot of missiles.

The simply usage of Sularen's Missile Boats could turn the tide of Battle and Captain Sularen had opted to keep his Missile Boats in reserve in order to unleash them once he had an opportunity to decimate the enemy. As his Fleet remained fixed , Marlon Sularen watched the Sith-Imperial Dreadnought before him waiting for Enemy Reinforcements to arrive first. To Sularen it would be better to wait the arrival of enemy Reinforcements and wait for them to strike first. That way he would be able to counter their attacks with efficiency after all the Best Offence was a good Defense and if the Sith stumbled once more here on Veroleem , the New Imperials would move forth to further crush their forces.

Victory would be theirs today , and by the end of this Battle , Marlon Sularen would have the Sith-Imperial Fleet scared and falling back. He would secure victory for a greater cause , the cause of retaking the Empire and Smashing the Sith and finally putting an end to the tyranny of the Sith Empire.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Veroleem.
Objective: Destroy the NIO Scum
Forces: A Lot
Tags: N/A (yet)

---

If there was ever a planet that did not deserve the furious and righteous attention of his dead brother's vessel, it was this backwater slum. Arid, barren, lifeless save for those that foolishly chose to inhabit it. And those that do inhabit it, as he has discovered, are either sycophantic troglodytes or fervent cultists, the latter roaming the streets of the world's capital. Some are seeking to find shelter for their own purposes and others call out their services to whoever will listen. Both groups are meek, psychotic milquetoasts who only surfaced when the attention did not fall on them for once, regardless of their intentions during this siege. That is what he has decided as the Vodvtaki roves forward through the void, seeking to cast its dark shadow over the Imperials who have quickly begun forming a defense. And what a shadow it will be.

A woman cloaked in black and green, the signature colors of the Cognus Legion now reformed from their time in the shadows, approaches the titan sitting upon a marble throne, "My Lord, the Imperials are sending a defense fleet and more have just exited hyperspace. Our primary weapons are ready to fire, but their ships are still out of our range. Shall we prime the main cannon?"

Her voice snaps his attention away from the disgust in his mind and he holds up a gloved hand, "No. Send all excess power from the lower sectors to the shields and begin charging the autocannons...And prepare to scramble our squadrons. I want every pilot, every crew member ready to depart and engage the enemy fleet."

"All of them?" the woman asks in surprise. All of them: 456 Tie Fighters. 228 Bombers. 3 Corvettes. 3 Shield Frigates. It is excessive and unneeded.

He nods, a slight smirk forming on his colorless lips, "This is a world of little import, but it is an Imperial world. And the Imperials...they are fools, but they are highly dangerous fools. I lost my life to their leader once for underestimating him, and your Legion was nearly destroyed for underestimating him and his soldiers. If all of these fools share that passion, then we must meet them as equals. I will send the call for the squadrons to be scrambled when the time is right."

She bows and leaves the temple without another word. As she does, he grimaces as his mind slips back into the thoughts of how abhorrent it is that such a world even exists. That is what the darkness in him has decided. A world unworthy of existing, yet also unworthy of receiving just destruction at the hands of the Sith. A world better to let rot and waste away. But that could not happen when the New Imperial Order, so staunch in their ways, held control over its operations. The forces mounting their fortifications within the city had to be destroyed and removed from this world if the Empire was to gain a significant foothold in this new war.

In this regard, he is thankful that the opening moments were decisive and quick. He thinks with stoic respect on the Empire's most loyal, charging upon the sands of the desert, hoping in their mortal hearts to push through the treacherous rocks to breach the city's capitol building. Dozens of squads, hundreds of men and women dropping from those many meteorite-quick frigates and cruisers and destroyers that have come along with the Devil. Come along with him into his preferred dwelling of hell. Hundreds now. Thousands soon. The planet will fall. It has to.

Veroleem. Thy name be cursed to desolation.

---

Spoiler: OOC NOTES

The Vodvtaki: I would link the Sub, but it is a WIP and not completely accurate to what it is in this thread. Some stuff is the same here as that is what I have finished, but it is not done yet. So picture.

The Temple: Sith Temple inside an SSD??? Yeh. Cause why not. Cool battle arena.

What's the plan: I'm going to fight everyone. Feel free to join them.

Can we attack your ship: Go for it. Blasty blasts. DM if you got specific questions about defenses and weapons if you attack before I describe them.

What's Kas wearing: Wrong face, right clothing. Sexy threads right?

What's that dope music tho: Ha! Hahaha HA!

Why are you like this: Coffee.

 

[Grigory Tallis]

Objective: Sabotage of the Vodvtaki
Location: Boarding Shuttle
Equipment: Strike-Force Armour [x] | BH-Slicer Vibroknife [x] | 7x IL-62G Grenades [x] | AK-57 Rifle [x] | KXR SFP-60x Pistol [x]
Manpower: A Platoon of New Imperial Army Soldiers
Dance Partner: Lirka Ka

The tenseness aboard the boarding shuttle was palpable. One could smell the retched stench of fear, these maggots reeked of it, as their commanding officer, Major Grigory Tallis paced back and forth before them. A cigar hung from the majors mouth, sizzling and disintegrating as he took great drags from it. Eventually, he stopped and paused. "Today ladies and gentlemen is the day you charge into the abyss. The great and ravenous unknown of the Sith Empire. There will be fighting. There will be suffering. But none of you will have my permission to die until we are victorious." He snapped like a cracking whip, "If anyone of you falls down with half your leg falling off, I will make sure to cradle your sorry looking behind and berate you until you have killed as many of these scum there are aboard this ship for victory to be ensured."

"Does anyone know, how many soldiers the Sith Empire has aboard a destroyer like this?" He questioned allowed. Silence. Except for the hints of fighter screeches and blaster fire their transport was avoiding. Tallis paused, "Our intelligence estimates that this monstrosity, the Vodvtaki," Tallis spat, "Carries a compliment of three hundred thousand soldiers, ontop of a fifty thousand man garrison."

"We may potentially be taking the brunt of such an assault force." the major warned them them, "For we are but one platoon." He added, "But, if we take those Sith numbers, and we divide them neatly by an average platoon, how many is that?" Tallis took a drag from his cigar, eagle eyes watching for anyone to speak up. Stillness. A pause. And then a voice.

"Seven thousand soldiers!" A voice barked from the ranks, "Sir!" Tallis' smile crept into his grizzled features as he stood tall inspecting his men.

"Very good soldier," Grigory bellowed giving a nod, and gesturing into the crowd, "Guess we have some mathematicians among us," He teased with a grin, before it then faded into an ominous glare, "But that means that there are a lot more of them, then there are of us." Grigory paused, and looked over his army platoon, "Gentlemen, ladies, when we climb aboard that destroyer, we will go head first into the heart of darkness. Now what that means is we are in for the fight of our short and miserable lives, and it will be my job to make sure your short miserable lives are the longest worth living beyond this mission. And maybe, just maybe if you are good enough you'll live long enough to see this war is won."

"But for me to provide that I will need two things for you." He raised one finger, "Your a-game. Your upmost loyalty and compliance to my order and effectiveness in the field." Tallis commanded before raising the second finger, "And two, your lives." He looked right into the visors of each and every man on the front line, "Gentlemen, for us to take this destroyer by force I expect we will have to kill, seven thousand men each. And only then and there once you stand tall atop your seven thousandth corpse on his gasping last breaths do you have my permission to die."

The shuttle door behind them opened with a long protracted hiss. The signal for the men and women of New Imperial Army stormed into the cavernous hangar of the ghastly destroyer. Whatever were to happen aboard, yet to be realised. And yet with nothing more than an almighty "Charge!" order from their CO, the platoon did as commanded and ran head first into the gaping beast. Each man hoping for the sacred seven thousand deaths to make their bones and die happy.

 

[Bastard]

// Imperial Force Corps // Designation: Knight-Errant // Nephilim //
// Location // Veroleem // Central Imperial Command //
// Primary Objective // Hightower // Safeguard Moff Boram Predor //
// Seconday Objective // [REDACTED] //
// Friendly Personnel // Moff Boram Predor // Captain Marlon Sularen //
// Sith-Imperial Forces // Kascalion Giedfield // Unknown //​

​

From high above the planetary surface, a young Imperial Knight gazed out upon a raging battlefield. Though the engagement spanned for miles leading up to the city, everything appeared so distant and small. Indecipherable chaos, that's what greeted Errant Varanin. The New Imperial stormtroopers blended in with the Sith-Imperial legionnaires from his perch, ships of all different sizes, built specifically to bring about death, raced over the combat zone. Bombs descended, shattering the earth the opposing soldiers stood upon, their bodies lifted skyward, blown apart before they hit the floor. He longed to stand amid the chaos, his noble saber cutting a bloody swathe through the enemies of the New Imperial Order. Somewhere out there, a Sith awaited a swift and brutal end, one the young Imperial Knight hoped to provide them. It would have to wait, though. Errant's charge remained his primary objective, the Moff's survival superseding even his master's Sith KOS decree.

Errant turned away from the reinforced transparisteel separating him from the anarchic war beyond. He moved past the other guards taking up position throughout the chamber, the Imperial Knight offering each of them a nod in turn. The Force Corps Auxillary Troopers followed his guidance, provided by Commander Rurik, in his detachment of the Knight-Errant to protect the VIP. Given the nature of the drag-out brawl at the behest of the Sith-Imperial offensive, the Imperial Knight assumed Rurik selected him for the reliability Errant possessed on and off the battlefield. Very few boasted the level of skill and training he claimed. Between an experienced mentalist and a great warrior, the Imperial Knight laid claim to a variety of skills typically beyond one so young.

"I should remember to contact mother," Errant muttered to himself, a hand rising to push aside loose strands of hair. He soon paused before the Moff's position overlooking the room. "Pardon my intrusion, Moff Predor," he straightened, hands falling to his sides as he remained at attention. "The Sith have breached the city walls and are flooding through the streets. Fortunately, we are dug in deep, with several dozen kill boxes and chokepoints prepared to meet the crimson tide. Unfortunately," he paused, digging out a holodevice from his pocket. He activated it, a short projection showcasing one New Imperial position quickly being overrun beyond the city walls. "Our men beyond the walls are isolated, cut off with the Sith advance. Commander Rurik Fel is someone nearby, perhaps we can relocate him, alongside his forces, to support a retreat?"

Sliding the device back into place at his belt, Errant went silent and maintained eye contact with the older Imperial. What suggestion the Knight could offer meant nothing if the Moff saw no merit within them.

"We are keeping an eye out for approaching Sith personnel, but none have yet braved the command center. I believe this location remains secure."

 

[Darth Sinestruss]

---

//Location: Aboard the Vodvtaki//
//Objective: Attack Veroleem NIO Forces//
//Sub-Objective: Maintain Undercover Persona, Get Close to Kascalion Giedfield and deliver the message from Darth Voyance//
//RP Partners: Ravraa Vyshraal and Rach'ta//

---

Bright gold eyes set in crimson watched the miniature hologram that materialized from the comm-link mounted inside the ornate serpentine Sith Amulet that wrapped about Siqsa’s neck. The blue haze spilled onto the durasteel grates before her and vibrated with static noise that’s distorted the image. As it grew the image was refined and it molded itself into the figure of a Twi’lek dressed in black robes, with blue skinned adorned with dark tattoos. Upon the Twi’lek’s ghostly entrance, Siqsa titled her head forward and bowed it, directing her eyes to the floor and avoiding eye contact.

“What is your bidding, my mistress,” said Siqsa her voice soft, cold, and tinged with dark reverence.

“The time has come, my apprentice,” replied the Twi’lek.

Siqsa’s master appeared seated inside some Sith meditation sphere. Her hands clawed against the arm rests of the black cushioned chair and the space around her drenched in wisps of incense smoke whirling about her body. Her presence was both visually and spiritually oppressive. The Twi’lek’s aura too poured from the amulet and Siqsa could feel, not only hear, her master.

“Assist Kascalion with this feud of his, and when he is open, see that my message is delivered,” said the Twi’lek, “I have taken an interest and I require his compliance for my machinations.”

“See that this is done."

"Kill anyone who impedes your path.”

“May the Dark Side bless you, Siqsa.”

The Twi’lek’s voice faded, so did her presence and then finally the hologram. The once bright blues of the hologram that had warped her red skin purple with its light receded against the onrushing darkness of the dimly lit small quarters. Siqsa bowed her head even deeper and prostrated herself to the invisible domination of her master.

“As you wish, Darth Voyance,” Siqsa said.

With the Twi’lek gone, the darkness resumed and the silence that had come with it, Siqsa remained in her kneeling position. The Sith Pureblood stewed in a brooding meditation that drew upon the Dark Side. She let it pour into her mind and smother the distractions and temper her emotions into a fiery focus – death. Death was her occupation, guide, and resolution. She was swaddled in its dark teachings and revelations. Siqsa Kun was the shadow of her master Darth Voyance, and she was a shadow that dealt death.

Completing her meditations, she reached for the helmet beside her and brought to her head. She placed it on and completed the disguise she had accumulated for herself since her infiltration of the Sith Knight ranks. She rose up and turned to exit the quarters. Entering a corridor she melted into the swarm of activity that pulsing through the Vodvtaki Super Star Destroyer. Sith-Imperial Troopers, ship staff and other Sith Knights marched down the corridors in a flurry of battle preparations. Siqsa was marching behind a column of Troopers when she was approached by two Sith Knights, a near-human she had come to know as Vendra and a Zabrak male named Yazvik.

“Found you Sithspawn!” Yazvik hissed, laying a hand on Siqsa’s shoulder.

The Zabrak yanked her back and spun her around. Siqsa did not resist and instead followed the motion of the pull and faced the two. Vendra had her arms crossed and was giving Siqsa a cynical smirk, while Yazvik was all snarls and judging glares.

“Dag’Marr wants us to assemble for the attack, so you better get your ass in line!” Yazik barked, “We finally have our chance to smite the new imperial rebel filth and I wont have your absent minded stupidity get in the way!”

“Now move!” Yazvik said, dragging Siqsa by the collar of her hood and shoving her forward.

“How you became a Knight I’ll never understand, you weak schitt.” Yazvik continued hurling abuse.

Siqsa said nothing, and conforming to the persona she had created, merely absorbed the obnoxious efflux of bravado, and walked ahead. Vendra caught up to her and walked beside her. Vendra gave Siqsa a light nudge with her shoulder.

“You’d better not anger him too much little one,” Vendra said, her tone a mixture of comradery and taunting jabs. “He’ll bite your head off.”

Siqsa nodded and continued on her way. The two had been assigned to her Sith Knight unit. They had mistaken her persona as her own true personality and had come to claim her as their pseudo-servant, apprentice. It did not matter to Siqsa. A good assassin conformed to any personality that made the path the easiest. A quiet tool is paid no mind and was left to rot in obscurity. Especially among the Sith. Which was perfect for Siqsa. Besides, when the time was right she would rid herself of these Knights, like a all her other disguises. Disrobed from her obfuscated body.

When they reached a large chamber, a mass of Sith Knights had been gathered. There Knight Dag’Marr, a hulking Quarren addressed the Knights. He shouted at them and flexed his powers in the Dark Side to intimidate his Knights into a bloodlust that would see them fight to their most maddening best. They had been instructed to guard the ship as they came up on Veroleem, while a chosen few would lead the charge. Yazvik gave Vendra a confident smirk and looked back to the Dag’Marr. Vendra shrugged and smiled a conniving grin back at Siqsa, before the two of them placed their helmets on.

Soon it would all begin.

And soon it would all end.

---

 

[Boram Predor]

// MOFF PREDOR //
// VEROLEEM // CAPITOL BUILDING //
// FOCUS // Bastard // Spencer Varanin //

---

---

The siege of the system was hardly an expected event considering the distant that these barbarians had to travel, the Good Moff Predor had hardly expected this band of savages to travel around the fething New Imperial Order in order to hit Veroleem specifically. The planet hardly had any resources worth taking, the only reason that Kascalion Giedfield would have to attack this area was to create a second front for the war against the Sith Empire. Something that Boram would not allow on his planet. Could not allow.

To that extent, his hand was forced into asking for the help from his Imperial Associates. Even going so far as to pull some assistance from his more shadowy comrades in the NGO. The Moff hand grand designs for this world and what it would ease him into, refusing to fall short of his grip on his goals in the galaxy. It would not end so simply as this.

Anger brought new life to Boram's old grey eyes as he stared out of the window towards the city, Sith Imperials empowered by revenge ransacking his city. The Moff could hardly wait to start counting the corpses, truth be told. Perhaps he would pass them to the cultists that he kept chained up in the deepest dungeons of Veroleem, experiments towards perfecting the idea of immortality.

As the door opened though, the face of anger was quickly replaced by one of worry and concern. A kindly old man, stressed over the state of his planet.

"There is nothing to be pardoned." Relief feigned on his face as he smiled at the boy, one side of the smirk turning ever so slightly maliciously. Getting the child of legacy to be his personal guard was the one glint of hope for Boram's ambition to come out of this. The child of Spencer Varanin and Vaulkhar Zambrano, the Lord Executor. "You have a keen intellect for strategy, I see. Very well, tell the Commander to go assist our men at the wall." A wrinkled hand was placed on Errant's shoulder, the warmness of his face not reaching his hand. "At least I can take comfort in the protection of your legacy." Names were the most important thing in the world, and the Moff would not let a Varanin slip through his hands so easily.

Sending the commander away was just a way for Boram to keep Errant to himself for the time being. Of course without the force he had little way of knowing that the boy's mother was on her way to join the pair, an event that could either benefit the Moff greatly in his plans. Or ruin them entirely.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Rapidly Getting Closer to the Planet
Task: Break the Siege
RP Partners: Darth Sinestruss Rach'ta
Faction: New Imperial Order
Narrative NPCs: Dorn-2
---

Feet First Into Hell​

Ravraa reached up above his head, hefting his Helravn into the locking holster above the portal of the droppod. There was a great hissing of depressurizing hydraulics and random electronic beeps as the hinged door swung itself into position, clicking against the metal shell before another burst of air called out as it sealed itself. The moment the lock was secured, the entire cockpit shifted it's blaring red hue to a much more concerned, yet subdued, orange. The entire pod began to rotate and seclude itself from the busy and bustling hanger. Filled with men and women of the New Imperial Navy rushing to starfighters, running through the large expanse to different doors, flight crews making callouts, and even the occasional damaged vessel coming screaming in through the entrance and skirting across the floor as smoke bloomed from it's engines. The transparisteel viewport graced him with a full and vibrant view of the conflict unfolding above the planet of Veroleem. New Imperial TIEs were dancing through the endless black abyss with Sith-Imperial equivalents, slinging green bolts that screamed off into the night, endless in their lost voyage. Larger classes, names that escaped Ravraa, did the same on a much grander scale. Thundering rounds across the void, kicking up shield pulses and screams of fire when they made proper impact. A clacking came and rattled through the metals of the pod as a door oscillated close behind, sealing the breach that the drop pod previously occupied. A mechanical rafter began to screech as it carried the pod further from the sides of the carrier vessel. A panel on his immediate left flicked one by one as the other members of Dorn-2 were properly brought to their own conclusions, the squad's HUDs slowly linking up as every members name popped into the top right of their visors. Flaring a brighter shade when they would speak.

Ravraa had been surprised at how quickly his squad was shifted in service after the conflict on Muunilinst. The battlefield that had taken so much, not only from him, but from the NIO as a whole. A battle that had broken his squad, slaughtered many of the original members of Dorn-2, and ended him with this current post. A post that he was certain he had little, to no proper qualifications for. Sure, he acted as any other in his station would have been expected to in that situation, he had saved as many as he could, he had been the big bad hero for once. That didn't mean he was someone these men should follow, someone they should put their trust in, but time and time again, he was learning, they did. He had hardly any clue what it was to lead a squad, nor what to say, or when. He was here because he was the best of a long line of rejects, he imagined. The lot of Dorn-2 should have perished on that rock, forgotten to the history books. But now, he figured, there would end up being some half-assed holofilm produced about the conflict. He wondered who they would get to act as himself, he hopped they didn't just slap a Coruscanti in some makeup and glue some horns to his head, that would just be insulting.

<"Alright, boys. Heading feet first into Hell on this one, we land, secure the position, and we assist our local warlord in kicking the Sithies off his damned world."> Ravraa would say, getting a response from each of the squad members at once, that blurred into a convulsion of "hell yeas," and "lets kick some ass" , a general feeling of confidence that Dorn-2 always seemed to have pre-misssion. He wondered if it was warranted.

"Dorn-2, prep.... three... two... launch." The automated voice filled each of their cockpits, and without proper time to settle in or brace, suddenly the grips that held each of their drop pods in location let loose, and a small afterburner burped out flame for a moment on the extreme top to being their descent. It started off slow, each of the pods slowly drifting away from the vessel, at least, it felt slow in comparison to how things were moving around them. In reality, they were breaking land-speed records on most planets as the drop pods began to pound their way down, further and further through the netherspace as the world below them began to grow in side. The pods shook violently as they attempted to hold together as speed began to catch onto them as they entered the very outskirts of the atmosphere. Occasionally, a pair of TIEs would swoop by, clawing at one another with blaster fire, or one of the rounds fired from the support craft would dare to nearly scrape by the unit as they descended. The dusted sand colored atmosphere began to consume their pods, as they fell faster and faster, slashing through the air as flames licked and dared to consume the entire bottom portion of the drop pods. Wind resistance began to kick in, and the durasteel began to shake and wobble violently, as if they were held together as much as the solider was willing to believe. A wooden shake in the middle of a tornado. The fight on the ground was already in full swing, with infantry, walkers, and vehicles being strafed by passing aircraft, plumes of explosions and shoots of crimson across the barren fields on the leadup to the city.

The ground was approaching fast, and from the looks, they would be greeted with plenty of willing Legionaries.

 

[Rach'ta]

Location: Dorn-2 Drop-Pod, Low Orbit
Objective: Accompany Dorn-2
Allies: New Imperial Order
Enemies: The Sith Empire
Tags: Darth Sinestruss | Ravraa Vyshraal

---

The Twi'lek lurked around the hangar of the vessel that Dorn-2 would be using as their launch point. Silently the Witch moved from smallcraft to smallcraft going on gut instinct on what was going where. The highly experienced stowaway wasn't disallowed from the ships of the New Imperial Order, or at least no one had told him as much, so he acted as if he should be exactly where was. Then Rach'ta caught sight of a squad of troopers felt compelled to follow them.

"Where are they headed to?" Rach'ta approached a deckhand while motioned towards Ravraa Vyshraal "Uhm... I'm not sure. It seems like they are on their way to the drop-pod. That one, over there." the deckhand pointed the pod out to Rach'ta then quickly went on about his business as a TIE fighter tumbled through the atmospheric shielding. With a swift pace carrying him towards the pod he was able to slip in right before the last of Dorn-2 had entered, to no small amount of confused looks "I am Rach'ta, do not be alarmed." he introduced himself "I am supposed to be here." he stated with confidence as he sat down quickly. While sincere this was misleading. He had received no orders from anyone as he was a simple civilian of the New Imperial Order that just happened to be very good at getting to where he wanted to go. Rarely did the excuse 'the Force told me' work to assuage skepticism or convey believed authority.

Just as the atmosphere of the planet broke around the pod with the signature turbulence, many seconds after they had departed the host vessel, Rach'ta felt a vision pushing its way into his mind. With a shallow gasp the interior of the pod rushed away from him and he now stared, face to face, with a Sith Knight on the battlefield surely below them. Wordlessly the pair stared at one another, and just as the figure lifted their hand to remove their battle scarred metal mask, Rach'ta was jarred. The vision was instantaneously ripped away by the view of the landing zone. What seemed like mere fractions of a second under the influence of the vision was nearly double that of realtime.

The doors of the drop pod opened with an incredibly swift, hissing, motion to expose its occupants to their surroundings. Rach'ta put hand to his head and slowly stood. The visions he experienced often were vivid, but cryptic, and disorientating.

 

[Amur]

Life is Beautiful

Post: 1
Location: Onboard the Vodvtaki
Faction Objective: Ignoring them
Focus: Adriana Fortemps
Future Dance Partner: Warchief Waddles
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Currently: Enjoying a splendid cup of tea with the Lord Inquisitor

Out of the freezer and into the furnace seemed to be the fate of Amur’s combat deployments going from the Frozen Hell that was Mygeeto and now here to Veroleem, a scorching desert hell hole. A selfish part of her just wishing that the TSE and NIO could just pick a nice temperate with firm solid ground to fight on. Thankfully she was to stay on board the super star destroyer for now, instructing some of the fresher Sith who haven’t had their first taste of battle as well as a guard for any boarding parties should anyone actually be stupid enough to try and board such a massively staffed behemoth. All in all she knew it was just a polite way of putting her somewhere that wasn’t critical.

Still could be worse, this ship had plenty of little lounging areas, parlors and salons if one knew where to look and given that this ship was basically the size of a small city with it’s own temple. Amur had found her favorite was close by to the temple that was elevated and raised with an enclosed room that had a giant clear window for one of the walls that overlooked the temple. It was quite the view and in Amur’s opinion the ideal place to enjoy a good cup of tea.

A single arm extended out to reach for the clear cup of tea, a faint cloud of steam rising softly up in the air just above the cup. Grabbing hold of the cup she carefully raised up to her mouth, the earthy smell of the drink filling her nostrils. Taking a nice slow sip the knight savored the aroma and flavor taking time to just enjoy it. The best part was the temperature as it was in perfect balance. Not hot enough to burn and scorch the throat but warm enough to tickle the soul. It felt like forever since she could just stop and enjoy a good cup of tea. Better yet to not have to drink it with a straw.

Her helmet stared at her on the table ready to be donned should the call of duty to appear. Normally she wouldn’t dare risk showing a soul her face but there was a critical exception to today. She wasn’t enjoying a freshly brewed cup of tea with not just anyone but the Lord Inquisitor herself, and well Amur figured it would be a waste of time to try and obfuscate her face with the one person who almost certainly could find out.

She had seen the Echani before at Alekto’s gathering on Metalorn, trying to become one with her chair in an attempt to mentally fade away from the fact that meeting was messy in many ways. Amur couldn’t blame the Inquisitor; she too mostly kept quiet and tried to distract herself from the percedings. This thankfully was already a better environment.

Her icy blue eyes studied the echani and a curiousity within Amur decided if she could probe the inquisitor on some thoughts and well general annoyance over the whole thing.

”You hear that? That silence? Isn't it just lovely compared that maligned squabble we heard earlier on Metalorn?"

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Lambert Vasari | idk maybe Adriana Fortemps | Open
​

Back to fighting the Sith.

No, Muunilist hadn't been fun. But Alashan, and the more recent expedition of the Imperial Knights on the front had certainly been enlightening. Most important thing he'd learned? Lamb chops would take all of the shit Dorian threw at him. Which made him feel kind of bad, considering he was trying to be a 'better person'. He still hadn't entirely decided what that meant. In any case he'd ended up paired with Knight Lambert.

The pairing wasn't the worst thing in the galaxy, but the assignment? Dorian hated space. Cold and dead were his two least favorite traits in anything. Space was a little too big for him to really understand. All sorts of spooky, gross things lurked in space. Case and point, the Vodvtaki.

The white-armored Imperial Knights burst into the hangar, exiting with their attack shuttle and leading the NIO stormtroopers against their Sith counterparts. Dorian wasn't really thinking about the fighting of course; he just kept trying to scratch his hair, but he didn't want to take his helmet off. They were in space. It'd suck if the ship started falling apart and he wasn't able to breathe. Well, it'd suck if the ship started falling apart in any case. He didn't really know how ships worked anyways.

Which didn't help, because they were here to help destroy this big one. What was their assignment again? He looked over at Lambert as the pair headed to the hangar's exit; the stormtroopers had been easy enough to mop up. "What's our job again? I mean, we could always just start breaking things and see what happens." Dorian paused to think about that. "No, that'd probably be a bad idea, since we're still here. Oh, wait, we got those explosives right? This is like in the flicks. I totally watched something just like this last week."

He grinned. "So where do we have to set them?"

The knight poked his head around the corner. For the moment, empty, but he got an odd feeling just being here. He wasn't superstitious and hadn't really subscribed to that whole light and dark thing, but this place gave him chills. It was like a creepy doll asking him if he wanted to play.

Either he was about to get eaten, or he was getting some crazy witch powers.

Honestly the second option didn't sound so bad. Just needed to make sure the doll wasn't too creepy.

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL // Imperial Knight Commander | Konrad Bolter
// LOCATION // Veroleem Capital City, At the breach
// ALLIES | NIO // Boram Predor | Bastard
// ENEMIES | TSE // Whoever tryna catch these hands
Armor | Lightsaber | Sidearm

R E M U R D E R E D

The heavy boot planted against the duraplast chestplate of the trooper as he wrenched the silver blade free from his chest, the man slumping to the ashen earth beneath. Spared no quarter in the fray, Rurik swung his blade up to deflect a particle beam from another trooper only to have it splash over the plasmatic beam and burn against the pale surface of his armor in a harsh burn.

It could withstand far more than that. He surged forward to cut the weightless saber through the legionnaire, slicing him from shoulder to hip grievously, surging back up from the follow through he planted an elbow against his abdomen to slam him to the ground of the ashen city street. Reaching his forearm near his helmet, he spoke up to convene with the Major General Treicolt.

<"General - I've plugged a hole in the far east sector but we-"> Just at that he was interrupted by the hum of the heavy repulsorlifts sourcing from a Claymore II as it turned the corner, the heavy laser cannon mounted to the main turret snapping to match its trajectory with the Knight Commander almost immediately. Making no heed to carry on his dispatch to the armored commander he surged toward the tank as it leveled its laser cannon toward him, hearing the silence in the air before it cracked out in a loud crack sending a crimson bolt immediately behind him as he rolled forward and landed back on his feet.

The repulsorlifts slowly jetted backwards to keep its optics on the knight before he jumped atop the chassis of the vehicle, slicing his saber blade down into the barrel of the main gun, the plasmatic blade making it partway through before he slammed his empty hand forward with the force enveloping the air around his palm, breaking the molten orange seal of the sliced metal and sending the barrel clattering away.

The hatch opened to see the tank commander clammor for the pintle mounted repeater and swing it toward him. He was able to weave his blade in order to deflect the first pulse before he extended his arm out again to wrench the commander from his seat and pull him toward himself, meeting an immediate skewer on plasmatic white. Drawing close the ignition of the blade he reached down to his utility belt, wrenching loose a thermal imploder as he stepped toward the open hatch, dropping it down into the crew cabin of the tank before pulling the hatch closed.

He could hear that foreboding pattering series of descending beeps before the blast imploded in the crew compartment, particularly deadly in the atmospherically sealed cabin of the tank it managed to envelop the oxygen around it before it burst in a crushing explosion, killing the other crew members within its choking envelopment close to immediately. A cruel outing, but Wymar needn't heed the restrained rules of engagement adhered to by the Jedi Order.

<"Disregard."> Rurik muttered through bated breaths into his comlink. Much more work had to be done.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

// Legion Commander Voi'kryt // Nima Appw'rii
// Objective : Boarding (Tea?) Party
// Location : Veroleem Space, Vodvtaki
// Focus : Adriana Fortemps Dorian Sicarrio @Nearby Friends & Enemies!
// Thematic : Young Men Dead

---

---

Lyra exhaled, a smoke pinched between her severos as a murky plume escape her nose. Helmet in hand, her nose almost kissing the ramp’s exit. The shuttle was banking sharply and the troopers surrounding her in that dark hull swayed and braced with each maneuver. The woman shifted one leg to match the change in momentum. She could feel the stares on her back but it was filed away with the whitenoise in the back of her mind. The alarm lights blinking rapidly, harsh on the naked eye-casting their blast plates in a bloody crimson hue. Lyra stole a final drag of the smoke, letting the tobacco linger in her mouth. The boarding party deploying was antsy, they had seen the tainted behemoth on the horizon coming out of hyperspace..

“Colvy?” Nima tried to raise question, hovering at her side; breathing down her neck practically.

“Appw’rii don’t start with me now..” she warned the woman, lips twisting in to a firm frown.

They had been well washed and hung out to dry since Muunilist. Eased was too kind of a word, but here they were back into the thick of it. Too much blood and too many bad flights, the nightmares were dulling at least but it was a new day and that made for a red and bloodier battle. She wasn’t surprised the Sith were retaliating, but they had certainly taken their sweet time-Veroleem though now that was close to home. Too close to Nirauan. Never again, her little broken mantra discarded in favor of some steeled nerves. It was time to eat up the borders against their unruly neighbors but fucking Maker help her. Lyra hadn’t gotten any decent sleep, eyes stinging- still piecing back together the facade of the Commander.

She needed this one, steel servos snapping the smoke in half by chance. Lyra forced herself to exhale deeply-extinguishing what was left of the smoke on her armor, grounding it on the tenebrae. The stub carelessly left to be crushed in the grates under boot. She slipped the helmet on, ventilators stealing the smoke off her breath. Tracing a finger under the seal as the HUD flashed blue and began to relay the coordinates.

Inbound inbound, the pilot’s chatter filling her ears and Lyra took a step back as the engines rumbled. Their shuttle was amongst the lucky ones to slip through the hellfire and defenses. Steel coffin lurching as they landed, there was a pressure washing over her-so oppressive and Lyra had a bad feeling. The hydraulics hissing as the ramp lowered. Blaster fire echoing as they were assailed by Legionnaires; shields ricocheting and covering them. Lyra unslung the rifle on her shoulder, slapping her hand under the powercell with a loud click.

The movements routine before she leveled the sights, descending into the hangar. The rangers pouring out from the shuttles, bolts of red and gold decorating the space between them and the unlucky. Bringing the fight to ugly floating monstrosity. This was not the time for a slip up, Lyra was acting like she had come off a bad hangover and a snarl formed in her throat. Shaking her head, the woman dumped the first clip indiscriminately into the front trusting the A.I to catch the worst of errors, bolts clipping the wall and transport, Legionnaire and the rest; recoil forgotten and barrel burning hot.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

// LORD INQUISITOR //
// ONBOARD THE VODVTAKI //
// FOCUS // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Amur
// THEME // CARELESS WHISPERS //

---

---

The flight over and around New Imperial space had honestly been the most relaxed that the Echani had been in some good time now, a nice break away from the more intense action of both the war and her bureaucratic habits. Of course, she wasn't particularly enthralled by the ambience of dark whispers that the ship seemed to possess, but after a few days with them in space, you tend to get used to it. Sleeping on the opposite side of the ship certainly helped avoid the more intense of whatever was the source of them, but a force user could never truly escape what sorcery Kascalion Giedfield had imbued this foul ship with. But at least she could ignore some of the intrigue involved in the Sith Empire and relax for now.

Jorryn had done it, she had become the Lord Inquisitor.

Lord Inquisitor Fordyce.

Perhaps it was only in her mind, but that truly did roll off the tongue like the sweetest of treats. It was an apt comparison for her right now, as she took yet another bite of some desert from some fancy planet or another. Perhaps it was Hapes this time. That was one of the benefits of being Lord Inquisitor, others would take care of finding out where the snack had come from for her. It truly was a good setup, aside from the worrying way that her predecessor had exited the office. The lightsaber was still displayed in Jorryn's new accommodations, a trophy and a threat. The Lady of Secrets was not a woman to disappoint.

"I believe that I am legally obligated to disagree with you these days, my dear." The words came out dry as the planet below as the Echani's current company, Amur, mentioned the Metalorn proceedings. Truth be told, Jorryn hated the entire thing. The proposed equality between Sith and their underlings was just another way for her to have to focus on increasing her own power base, something that she was attempting right now. Her lackadaisical and familiar behaviour certainly helped by the fact that she noticed the girl enjoy the tea she had brewed. Always a point of pride for the Echani. "Though I must admit that I do prefer the quiet whispers in the dark of this ship to the protestations of the ungifted." A sigh was let out as her palm rested against her chin, looking blankly to the side for a while, irritation perhaps a bit clear on her face. "Though I suppose I live and die for the service of all the Empire's residents even more now, despite myself."

As much as the Echani hated the prospect of such thinking, there was hardly anything she could do about it. Taeli Raaf could certainly correct any "misbehaviour" on Jorryn's part if she got too familiar and comfortable with her new role. It was a difficult edge to balance, furthering her own machinations while submitting fully to the fealty of the Empire.

A sip of tea helped clear away some of the irritation. Something about this brew having been particularly exceptional this evening, perhaps one of the voices in the walls had thought to assist Jorryn in her brewing this morning. Some good came of this little trip of hers after all.

"And how about you, my dear?" An impish half-smile coming across her lips as she turned to face the scarred woman, eyes glancing obviously at a recently dismembered arm of the girl. "What do you feel of the claims that Sith have an unfair advantage when it comes to rising in the ranks of the Inquisition? More than we clearly already have."

 

[Warchief Waddles]

// JUGGERNAUT//
// LOCATION// Hangar Bay
// OBJECTIVE // Infiltrate and destroy ship
// ALLIES // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
// ENEMIES // TSE | Amur
// THEME // On the Shoulders of Giants
Armor | Main Weapon | Side-arm | Melee

---

---

Sitting within the confines of the shuttle, Isaiah sat with his head down, eyes closed. Resting in the warriors lap was a simple helmet. Not the famed Mandalorian one, no just a simple one that had been provided by the NIO. From the battlefield of Weyland where he’d been thrust into battle against Sith, Isaiah found himself on yet another one. Explosive fire rocked the vessel and those within.

Eyes still focused on the helmet Isaiah remembered what he was fighting for. He wasn’t one of the other soldiers within the shuttle that sought to fight for the glory of the New Imperial Order. He wasn’t spurred on by their leaders, nor did he feel any sense of brotherhood with them. The NIO was a tool, much like his armor, much like his weapons, they were tools to ensure the freedom of Mandalore. To avenge those of his people who’d been massacred at the hands of the Sith. No matter how many battlefields it took, how many lives that had to be lost on either side, Isaiah would ensure the freedom of his people.

None of the other troopers approached the Mandalorian, them all giving him a wide berth, not like they had a choice with Isaiah’s size. Facing the helmet away from him, the warrior raised it up, lowering it over his head. With a hiss the armor sealed and Isaiah felt at home, safe. It may not have been his old suit of beskar but it was close enough.

Rising from his seat and shuffling past the troopers and even past their commanding officer, Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt , Isaiah gave a firm nod.

When the doors slid open admitting entrance into the hanger Isaiah leaped without waiting for it to land. Thrusters on the bottom of the man’s boots fired, slowing his descent but even still Isaiah’s mass was deadly. Booted feet slammed into the shoulders of an unfortunate legionnaire. The soldier didn’t even get to scream as he was crushed to the deck, sickening cracks filling the bay as his body was contorted at odd angles, yet still alive.

Stepping away from them Isaiah’s hand raised over his shoulder and from the back holster his disruptor rifle rose up and into his grip. The cool handle of the weapon fit perfectly into his gloved palms. Isaiah never sought to kill, he didn’t take pleasure in ending others lives but this was about so much more than his sensibilities. More than what he’d been taught as a Jedi, this was war and he had to do what was necessary to see the freedom of his people.

Without hesitation, remorse or guilt, Isaiah pulled the trigger letting loose a hell upon the legionnaires in the hanger as he pushed forward.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Location: Vodvtaki interior
Objective: Stab-Stab-Stab
Tags: Grigory Tallis

Awful things lurked within the depths of the greatest Imperial warships, dark masters and their vile creations: Lirka fell into both categories, in truth, from within the depths of the Vodvtaki the Sephi monster finally finished donning the dark plate armor she surrounded herself in, much of it glistening with the Beskar plundered from the lost world of Mandalore. With great footfalls, which echoed through the halls as she walked Lirka approached the hangar in which the traitorous dogs had decided to breach, a Legionnaire hurriedly rushing to the Grand Moff's side.

"Ma'am, traitor forces have breached the hangars, we don't have an exact-"

A massive clawed gauntlet raised, quickly sending the soldier into a fearful silence: Lirka's erratic and murderous temper was something that had earned her the slightest sliver of infamy. Her voice was grossly distorted by the horned helmet that adorned her head, blurring the lines between Lirka being a person, or just some fancy War Droid.

"I do not care for your empty drivel. They will all suffer. Regardless of the numbers."

Lirka strode forward, unsheathing the massive blade she always kept with her. The screams and fires of battle reaching her ears more and more with each step, a wide and toothy grin forming itself beneath the emotionless helm, and as she could see the flickering lights of infantry battle, Lirka threw her own head back for a battle-cry, the distorted words echoing through the halls.

"No pity! No remorse! Victory or death!"

Well. Equal parts a battle cry and orders.

 

[Bastard]

// Imperial Force Corps // Designation: Knight-Errant // Nephilim //
// Location // Veroleem // Central Imperial Command //
// Primary Objective // Hightower // Safeguard Moff Boram Predor //
// Seconday Objective // [REDACTED] //
// Friendly Personnel // Moff Boram Predor // Commander Rurik Fel //
// Sith-Imperial Forces // Kascalion Giedfield // Unknown //​

​

Errant stood straight and proud at the Moff's compliments, careful to keep the emotion from visibly spilling forth. The Imperial Knight studied the elderly man's face, searching for any signs of trickery behind his warm gaze. Unable to ascertain the meaning behind the display, Errant nodded in affirmation, pivoted on his heel, and strode back towards the central terminal. It continued to flicker from battlefield to battlefield, not staying in place for too long as Predor's various retainers studied the evolving battlefield with keen interest. Errant couldn't blame said interest, nor could he care for it as he stepped up and watched the holograms play out. Across Veroleem, it appeared the New Imperial forces held out well in some locations, stemming the crimson tide time and time again. Elsewhere, the valiant stormtroopers could not hope to hold the line against mighty Sith magics and Bogan-born aberrants.

When the image of Rurik's position finally appeared, Errant raised a hand.

"Hold here," Errant's slender fingers danced along his chin, his eyes locked on the conflict as it played out around his mentor. "You are doing amazing, as per usual, Commander," he muttered to himself, activating the commlink built into the terminal. "Connect me to Commander Rurik," he spoke up, ordering a nearby attendant to link both command and the Imperial Knight.

"Link established, sir," the analyst reported.

"Very good," Errant waved him away with a flick of his wrist, his other hand already descending to open communications. "Commander Rurik, this is Knight-Errant Varanin. Our outer defenses are breaking south of you. I am transmitting coordinates and a brief sitrep in regards to the situation. From our understanding, our men are pinned and unable to retreat. Moff Predor asks you to facilitate their retreat. Once finished, I would recommend further retreating into the city. The Sith have breached our northern and eastern flanks, their soldiers already digging in for the counterattack. Your forces are likely to be cut off from the rest of the Stormtrooper Corps if we aren't careful."

Errant went silent after the lengthy report, hands once more clasped together behind his back as he awaited Rurik's response.

 

[Amur]

Post: 2
Location: Onboard the Vodvtaki
Faction Objective: Ignoring them
Focus: Adriana Fortemps
Future Dance Partner: Warchief Waddles
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Currently: Enjoying a splendid cup of tea with the Lord Inquisitor

Hmm. Legally obligated. Not necessarily an honest rebuke now wasn’t it? A dry tone and some later complaints all but confirming it. There was inkling of suspicion that this may have been a sedition trap laid down to provide a test, thankfully these rational albeit paranoid thoughts were calmed by the supporting body language of the Inquisitor. A sigh, a blank stare off in the distance and a sprinkle of irritation enough to inform her that it was likely genuine. Likely. Though the mentions of whispers did raise a point of curiosity. Unable to tell if it was a mention to idle rumors and tribulations or was indeed a much more literal turn of phrase. Truth be told being on this ship had an effect as she could just feel idle intrusive thoughts that kept bubbling up.

A trooper asking her about her service on Mygeeto one time had prompted a powerful call to snuff them out, and that was only a single case among several attempts for it to dominate her thoughts and reduce her back to being an animal. So far she was able to bury it. Her missing arm proved to be a strong reminder of the price she may have to pay again if she indulged too heavily in the dark side. She was determined to avoid becoming it’s slave. Still another sip of her tea soothed and ironed out these concerns grounding her back to reality and the conversation. Listening to the Lord inquisitor complain about her stature in the service of the empire.

”A curse and a privilege we all have to pay now for the power we crave.” She confided to the Lord Inquisitor. Truth be told it didn’t matter much now, she wasn’t resting at the top on some ivory tower, she was still trying to find a niche to carve her stake in and she saw this conversation as a step in the right direction. Just needed to remember that being in the company of the Lord Inquisitor was akin to being in the spider’s den. One misstep could mean a lost head.

Her mind however briefly froze once more as her ears caught on to a noise that faintly tore through the background. A shrill high pitched scream that was barely louder than the ship’s noise floor. Her mind immediately recognizing it as the same one she heard from her encounter with a star weird. Amur’s body tensing slightly before a tirade of thoughts reminded her of all the reasons why one couldn’t be here. A sudden suspicion now taking hold at the idea this ship could play tricks on people… and see more into her head than she liked.

Thankfully she would be forced to switch gears as she heard the Lord Inquisitor direct the spotlight towards her. Seeing the sly creepings of a smile and the glancing towards what was left of her left arm. Lady Fordyce now pressing on Amur to deliver a position on the idea of the inequality in the inquisition. With it though Amur couldn’t help but suspect a second question was being asked along with it laced underneath her words.

Why are you worth my time?​

There was a lull of silence as she thought over it.

”Well Lord Inquisitor it’s simple, us Sith are naturally imbued with a greater potential, I myself have survived plenty of encounters that would have killed me if it weren’t for my powers as a Sith. It’s possible for us to break and extract information from minds, avoid detection and countless other examples that any sith with a creative mind can attempt. You are likely fully aware of this.”

Amur would briefly pause to take a sip of her tea and rest her voice. ”Still they have their uses. It’s simply easier for a simple imperial inquisitor to avoid being sensed by scum like Jedi or the New Imperial Knights. They make great infiltration units in that regard. I wouldn’t fully discount them, and I'd certainly want to feed them the hunger of wanting to rise up, regardless of their actual chances. I see plenty of future uses, especially when we fight an enemy that’s more than eager to welcome every traitor of the empire with open arms.” Amur finished, comfortable that the Inquisitor could pick up on the implication behind her statement. With that Amur rewarded herself with another sip noticing that her cup was starting to get dangerously low still she figured she could refill after a few more spoken thoughts.

”Though the true trick is not in what’s the real inequality, it’s the perception of it. It’s something that ‘democracies’ master. They know how to present a system that looks fair to most, but if you pay a discerning eye to it’s workings it reveals a different picture. In general we ought to make it easier for people to live with it, make them feel more at ease voicing their grievances so we can pay attention and nip problems before they metastasize like a cancer, and well I see how the Saaraishash can bloom. I see a perfect chance to make it happen with Alekto’s circle, and under your vision hun.”

She finished her tea, content with her little impromptu filibuster. Shutting her eyes as she savored the final swig. Reopening her eyes and preparing to put her cup down she would frown as she looked out the windowed section. She could see the once calm area now alight with troop movements.

 

[Kalanda Tishire]

// POST // 1
// LOCATION // On Board the Vodvtaki
// ALLIES | TSE// Amur Adriana Fortemps
// ENEMIES | NIO // No one hopefully.
Armor | Lightsaber | Sidearm

Kalanda wasn't entirely sure where Amur was on the ship, but one thing she did know, was she was going to find the Sith and make absolutely sure she was okay; after all, Amur had been on Mygeeto, and she hadn't seen the woman since then. Having the power of teleportation and scrying, it wasn't that hard to sneak into the Sith Armory and swipe some Stormtrooper armor to get on board. However, what she didn't plan on was being confused for an active duty soldier. Not to mention this ship was just bizzare. She could have sworn she could hear Amur right around the corner, but her senses keep tellong her that Amur was here...but just not here here. She didn't even know what was going on, but the 'Sargent' was really, really mean, so she didn't want to get in trouble. "Recruit, where do you think you are going?" One of the men began to holler as Kalanda trudged her way up the ramp, falling behind in her apparent squad. The armor was too big for her, and frankly it was bulky as all hell. Her head swirled back, tilting her head in confusion as the man began to berate her. "I-Im getting on the transport! Um, sir?" She replied, coming back to a dead stop on the ramp. "Well thank you for the promotion private! But you are missing your rifle! How can you go into battle without your rifle? You gonna beat them with that little stick private?" Kalanda was honestly puzzled as to what she would do with a rifle, let alone the fact she was going into battle it seemed, but the man seemed to want an answer to his question.

"I don't know, um, sir!" She replied, fidgeting awkwardly, as she only had a pistol and her lightsaber. The man marched towards her, slinging his rifle off his shoulder and slamming it into Kalanda's chest, while snatching her saber off her belt. "You won't last five minutes topside private. I'll give you the stick back in your coffin." The man laughed, shoving past Kalanda as he took his place on the transport. 'Jackass'. Kalanda thought, taking the heavy rifle and stomping up the ramp, then having to awkwardly squeeze into a space at the rear of the shuttle. "Oh boy, you really peeved off Sargent Witcoms. What unit are you from anyways?" One of the men began to ask, but Kalanda merely looked up to him and shrugged. "Ryloth?" She stated, as she leaned forward and tried to spot the man who had taken her lightsaber from her. "No you moron, what unit are you with?" Given she didn't like being talked down to, Kalanda grumbled and fired back. "Your mom." She replied, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bulk of the ship, as the men began to laugh at her seemingly clueless nature. She couldn't wait to tell on these guys. They had no clue her best friend was a Sith Lord. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on Amur, trying to find her presence, just in time to feel the ship begin to lift up and it's entry ramp close. "This is it boys!" One of the man laughed, as Kalanda felt a sense of unease creep into her stomach. What had she gotten herself into?

 

[Grigory Tallis]

Location: The Hangars
Objective: Distract and Destroy
Equipment: Strike-Force Armour [x] | BH-Slicer Vibroknife [x] | 7x IL-62G Grenades [x] | AK-57 Rifle [x] | KXR SFP-60x Pistol [x]
Opponent: Lirka Ka
Allies: The fighting men and women of the New Imperial Order.

The army platoon was a credit, fanning out and taking up positions in the cavernous maw of the Sith Imperial vessel. "Up and at them!" Grigory chided with brutish gusto, moving through the ranks of the platoon as they fanned out, taking cover in and around the maintainence equipment that hung around the hangar. A barrage of blaster bolts met the first wave of defenders, "Cut them down!" The major snarled, "Cut them all down! Not one of them lives!" The officer snapped taking cover behind a deactivated gonk unit.

There was a pause then in the fighting. Distinctive. "They're regrouping," Tallis snarled, getting back up, "Stay down and prepare for the next wave!" His eyes locked on the blastdoors to the hangar, now sealed shut. "Don't waste your grenades yet, we'll hold them for the big ones." Tallis snapped. His attention now changed as the blastdoors hissed open. The oncoming wave of Sith legionaries faced a barrage of maser and laser. But it was the leering target at the back which caught Grigory's attention. That sickening battle cry. The deformed figure. Familiar, to a degree. No, no. That one was his.

Mounting his rifle to his shoulder, Major Grigory Tallis stood tall and aimed his rifle at the beast. "The big ones mine!" Tallis roared, "Kill the littlies!"