Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[IMPCOM]

OOC THREAD
T H E _ W A R _ O F _ D E F I A N C E
O P E R A T I O N : H A R V E S T _ D A R K
N O _ Q U A R T E R

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// NEW IMPERIAL ORDER //​

// STAFF //: Irveric Tavlar Jaeger Harrsk Tyrell Paxxus Lucien Dooku Djorn Bline Warchief Waddles Ravraa Vyshraal

// THE SITH EMPIRE //​

// STAFF //: Darth Prazutis Taeli Raaf Madelyn Lowe Telis Taharin-Zambrano Cara Dorniarn Joycelyn Zambrano Arctus Silmar

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OBJECTIVE I
GARANG CITY | PLANETARY GARRISON

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Within the center of the planet's capital of Garang City, the planetary garrison of Dantooine. Catching word that civilians have not been evacuated by the Sith Empire despite the open warning of the New Imperial Order's imminent arrival, the Sovereign Imperator willingly sacrificed the strategic importance of Garang City in favor of the planet's defensive infrastructure, avoiding harm to civilian life at any cost, even instituting a strict rules of engagement to all New Imperial military assets taking part in the ground element of Operation Harvest Dark.

Rules of Engagement Sheet | NIO Armed Forces, COMPNOR, Imperial Knights, Sons of Mandalore
( Issued to all New Imperial and aligned military assets prior to first engagement / 'zero hour' )

• Only open fire or overtly discriminate against military targets.
• All civilians are to be evacuated or brought to safe locations away from any active warzones.
• All use of strategic scale ground and air based bombardment suspended unless within target areas specified by 'IMPCOM'. Clearance code $%@#^&
• All use of gas based or indiscriminate weaponry rated for military use has been suspended unless within target areas otherwise specified by 'IMPCOM'. Clearance code $%@#^&
• No fly-zone established over the surface of Dantooine, all unauthorized attempts to leave or enter planetary atmosphere are to be interdicted by New Imperial Starfighter Corps and Armada.

The first wave of the assault, spearheaded by Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt of the 307th Stormtrooper Legion and Lucien Dooku with the 173 ‘Myrmidons have landed planet side along with Armored Assault assets. The next phase of Operation Harvest Dark calls for the relief force led by newly reconstituted 'Task Force Axis' led by the Sovereign Imperator Irveric Tavlar , Grand Vizier Tyrell Paxxus and Commissioner Jaeger Harrsk along with elements of COMPFORCE and the 501st to break the deadlock and turn the tides of battle to take control of Garang City and eventually, Dantooine as a whole

OBJECTIVE II
DANTOOINE SITH JEDI ENCLAVE

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SITH TEMPLE​

The Jedi Temple on Dantooine was destroyed in the wake of Sith occupation, its walls forcibly dismantled and its occupants exterminated by the forces of darkness. On top of the once proud foundation now sits a temple erected by their conquerors, blemishing the proud history of Dantooine whilst permanently staining the Jedi who once called the planet one of its own. Under the joint leadership of Rurik Fel, Knight-Commander of the Imperial Knights, and Ryv Karis, Sword of the New Jedi Order, we shall see to the immediate assault of the Sith Temple, engaging the Sith who flock to defend it until none of them remain. Our victory shall see the Temple purged of its corrupting influence until it too crumbles, brick by brick.

FIELD HOSPITAL​

While our forces take the fight to the Sith elsewhere across Dantooine, a field hospital has been established close to the frontlines in order to treat the wounded and coordinate the evacuation of personnel to the safety of our rearward lines. This effort is led by the Shield of the New Jedi Order, Auteme, in an effort to ensure the as many people as possible survive the tumultuous conflict that we must face to liberate Dantooine and bring freedom to its people. Protect the injured, evacuate them off the planet if possible, and answer the the call to duty, when the Jedi is sought upon to act. The cries of the unfortunate will only grow louder if we don't do our best to bring this conflict to a close.

OBJECTIVE III
BATTLE IN ORBIT

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As war rages on the surface of Dantooine, so too does it take to the skies and space enveloping the agrarian world. The New Imperial Armada led by Grand Admiral Rausgeber and the NIV Tregessar arrive in the shadow of Dantooine to battle the collective fleet of the great Galactic powers in a duel destiny.

Star Destroyers will bring fire and death unto one another as starfighters embed themselves in tense dogfights and boarding parties seek and disable opposing vessels.

// SETPIECES //:
> DANTOOINE
> GARANG GARRISON : LIBRA GOLD
> JEDI SITH ENCLAVE

// ART CREDITS //:
> TSE Symbol - Fiolette Raaf
> NIO Symbol - Warchief Waddles
> Objective Artwork - Darth Hauntruss

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Grenades

HEY YOU

Several Hours Prior
Dantooine Orbit
NIV 'Penitent'
Home​

"Uplink is ready and waiting, Imperator." The helmsman said. Military grade decoders allowed the voice of the New Order to transmit and pass as many roadblocks as it could to reach the most frequency bands of found on Dantooine, the homeworld of the Sovereign Imperator.

He stood aboard the bridge of the Pellaeon IV-Class Star Destroyer with arms crossed over his chest, his lone gaze peering toward nothing at all as he mulled over his words. Unprepared, unpracticed, he would address the people of Dantooine. His people. The very same he grew up and around, even if those roots faded over time with his service in chained fealty to the One Sith, the Sith Empire. But he returned after a leave imposed by his forced exile from the Sith Empire and the conception of the New Order. His Order.

He peered over to his confidant, Admiral Var Koon , the Kel Dor peering back with a placid gaze, nodding once with an unspoken affirmation before the Imperator began to speak. His words reaching whoever on Dantooine could hear it beyond whatever jamming or circumventing was imposted unto them, the channel open for only a short amount of time.

Transmission Start...
​

<" Dantooine...my home, my people. You certainly don't remember my name or face from my being here...but Dantooine is my home. Today, I return. With my Legion, my fighting men and women...and all those who stand against the Darkness..."> He says, swallowing an anxious breath before he uncrosses his arms, speaking up once more.

<"You've been imprisoned. You've been lied to. The Sith...have put you in chains, use you as hostages and shields of flesh and bone despite our warning...the New Imperial Order, will be the hammer that breaks them that breaks this injustice and tyranny. Our future is one ruled by you. The rightful Imperial. The soldier, the farmer, the labourer...those people arise every day at the coming of the dawn and rest at the coming of the night after their toil. You are my people...we are one in the same. The Sith...the Jedi...do not see you this way. They are one in the same, the tales of herosim of the Jedi and the tales of villainy that plague the Sith...are all but scales of the same ouroboros that is the Great Lie that imprisons all of us in our eternal strife.">

<"They have forever perpetuated their war, turning their bloody wheel of suffering. But we bring the end of this tyranny. And they're frightened by it. You will see, they will come, side by side, hand in hand...and come to stop them. The Silver Jedi will see to it that their ancient enclaves and temples remain tainted by the Sith. The Sith Eternal will confine you to the grueling slavery and tyranny that they have perpetuated as the wool is brought over your eyes to make you all believe they are a lesser threat than the Bryn'adul.">

<"When in fact...they're far worse, because they've convinced you and those of power and influence in the Galaxy that they are not.">

<"I come to free my home...so I ask of you to rise up in defiance of these parasites and rip them from your world...if we are defeated today, they will be lords of the cinder, your ancestral homelands will be burnt and the Sith will make an example of you as they did Mandalore...the Silver Jedi will watch...and do nothing. The Imperial...will snuff out the tyranny of the darkness forever."> Closing his eyes for a moment, he grits his teeth, grinding each row against the other before he makes his closing statement.

<"To those who oppose us...this is not a threat...">


<"This is a promise.">

Transmission End.

It was time.

NO ONE'S COMING HOME TONIGHT

Present
Garang City, Dantooine
POV | Irveric | Berik
501st Legion 'Imperator's Fist'
Task Force 'Axis'

​

No other man at no other time would've justified the projection of force and fury unto this world. Dantooine. Golden fields, time addled ruins and clear skies had made it significant only in the ancient lores told, passed and forgotten. Even in this supposed 'Civil War', it should've meant nothing at all.

But these golden fields, this wasteful journey of stagnation, confined to the sequestered and tight knit communities strewn across the planet molded Irveric into who he was. The desperation of his upbringing forced him into his service, to the One Sith. Eventually, the Sith Empire.

That molten drive to succeed, that need to protect his fellow fighting men and women as he did his younger brother, his mother. The only one trusted to take charge of his native household after a wayward father left him without true guidance.

Now he was back among these golden fields and ancient trees.

Home.

Or it was once was. Treading his feet down unto this hallowed surface for the first time in ages, the great and powerful of the Galaxy united in unison to throw him and his Order from its surface and into the dead blackness.

Good.

Greater odds to overcome, more strife to temper the metal of his being. This test would be superior to any other he'd faced. He didn't care for it any other way.

Garang was the very city which served as the venue to his humble birth and now it was the nexus of these winds of fate. The calling of the fire.

The first wave had crashed against the shore, the 307th being the first into the flames, with shielded walkers, tanks and air support guiding their approaching to Garang City. As soon as the limits were breached, civilians were spared the first reprieve as the New Imperials continued forward, the indomitable Sith garrison in their sights.

<"So they kept the civvies here...we warned 'em didn't we? Dantooine?"> One of the Vandal squad Storm Commandos inquired to the man across from him within the rumbling troop bay of the Rapid Deployment Assault Gunship, Berik .

<"They're cowards, the Sith. Using their own people as human shields and then of course they're gonna saturate the news feeds with footage of us and our boys in and around 'em as if we're the terrorists. Get that Stormtrooper helmet everywhere synonymous with evil. Even if they're the most vile the Galaxy had ever seen."> Berik says, peering down the sights of his BKM-62, dialing in on the shot counter to be sure he was at a full pack.

<"You think that's gonna happen?">

<"They're selling it so far... even if they turned Muunilinst and Scipio to glass on their way out after it was clear we won. Once the garrison folds don't be surprised if you see another sunset, Vandal six."> Berik replied and soon enough the turbulence gave way to that rapid feeling of descension. Vandal was due to hit the dirt, step out and face the music. About damn time. It was never the battle itself that ever rattled the Nirauan Storm Commando. It was always that surreal moment of anticipation, that jarring stretch of time from when he'd first slide that recon helmet over his gaze and when he'd aim down the sights to put his first round down rage in hatred. That stretch of time when he wasn't confident he'd have a quarter sized hole put through his brain pan or whether he'd wake up after it was all over in his off duty fatigues with a square meal in front of him, that hopeless rabbit ready to rise from one hole only to dig another.

The troop bay doors open just as the flurry of tank buster missiles careened from the launchers mounted to the wings of the gunship, flailing their destructive power in the direction of the Garrison's outer defenses, the targeting computer pinning several different turret emplacements before dishing out its panoply of war in order descending from its immediate threat.

Berik grasped the repel line and slid down. A deep inhale filled his lungs when he touched solid ground atop the roof.

The thud was heavy and Berik rose to a kneel as he slid toward the edge of the roof for cover, peering over to take in the view of the madness around him as he pulled his wrist near to his helmet, speaking into the commo as he took into view the gunship which delivered him here preparing to descend, a crescendo of flares and chaff spurring from its aft as it made the climb to divert an anti-air missile only for the encroaching Sith Imperials to will the shrieking metal monster down into a plummeting blaze, the pilot fortunate enough to rear his gunship away from the scope of Vandal's spot.

<"Enigma-Actual, Vandal has touched down, five hundred out from point Aurek."> Berik sounded out to the Imperator himself. He portrayed confidence, but the situation at hand was far more dire. In an elevated two, maybe three story building they were a stretch deeper into hot territory than they should've been with S-IMPs enveloping around them on all sides.

<"Get a repeater set up, we need to clear the path ahead."> Berik ordered, accompanying the words with a motion of the hand to the 'heavy' who mounted up at the edge of the roof.

That awful symphony of the battle, that crack and bang of death and strife sounded out in a hazy chorus to act as the backdrop to the Storm Commando's communication. It had only just faded into full and clear understanding when he peered down to his hands, one cybernetic and one organic grasping the collarbone of a pilot, those blank slits of glasteel peering back at him before he wrenched him loose from the seat half shredded and embedded into the shattered earth beneath. His leg was caught on jagged metal, if that didn't do enough of the job, the fires from the crash and smoke inhalation past a busted rebreather in the confined space did enough.

Dead.

He'd be just another number now, another brick in the wall. Forgotten to most, he'd join the silent carved ode Tavlar displayed on his parceled armor, only donning a select few of the pieces but even still, each plate of armor was etched with the service numbers of the fallen. First a tradition that began prior to Bastion, prior to Kyber Dark carried on with permanency. Agrippa, Captain of Gladius Company was the most prominent name to join others. Adrial Magnus, Cameron Farwell, Sam Deckard. Heroes, he'd only wished he could pass on that valor to their brothers, his men.

<"We got clipped on our descent but we're en route. Don't hold your breath for us. Keep pushing."> A hand reached down to snag the identification tag from the slain pilot before he grasped his rifle once more, three of the surviving 501st Troopers from the wreckage joining in around him.

Their objective was simple. The 307th was the pilae, the spear thrown out and toward the enemy. The 501st would be the charge and draw of the gladius, to press the blade into the gut, twist and disembowel the enemy. This multi staged attack plan had worked in spades before, Dubrillion being its great debut as the New Imperial armed forces all but ran a clinic on the nigh aquatic world.

The tactic made a reprise on the Motherland.

What came next was the assault and seizure of the garrison fortress at the center of Garang, all New Imperial Forces were ordered to bear down on the main military target. Civilians evacuated, led to safety, avoided, anything to keep them out of harms way. In spite of the Imperial way of doing things, this rules of engagement was harshly adhered to. After all, no one wanted to be the man who caused a slip up in the Imperator's home world that got his people killed or worse, left to the fate of the Sith.

If only war was so black and white.

The Sith and their friends were clearly content to drag everyone into the darkest shades of gray in between. Always particular in evacuating all people and assets of interests from vulnerable worlds in the Third Imperial Civil War it was clearly an oversight by Sith Imperial Command or an outright message trying to be sent to the Galaxy proper...or rather, contrived to the Galaxy proper.

Just had to finish the fight, let the victor write in the blanks where they deemed fit.

<"Hellion, what's your status? Get your unit up and moving, need to ascend the garrison fortifications before anything else, pull the heat off the spearhead."> Tavlar said, peering to both of his flanks as he saw the white and blue duraplast of 501st troopers flowing into the fray, that pristine argent white already smeared with the ashen grey of the urban battlefield. In the shadow of the Sith Imperial fortress at the center of the city they approached, out numbered, out gunned but with the respite that they were in the belly of the beast with the ability to wreak devastation on their terms to ease the burden of the approaching force.

He could only anticipate when Hunter Blackburn and his operation would cash in. Soon as that cell burned its light, the ensuing chaos would be enough to sway the tides in their favor.

So he hoped.

The grueling advance through through the city was a street by street affair as they closed in on the fortified exterior of the central garrison, the sole and prize aim of Tavlar and Task Force Axis within Garang.

The familiarity, the eerie nature of these streets were lose in the makings of the war ripping at his psyche and at the environment around him.

The aim now was to regroup with the other commanders in Axis before moving to assault the garrison proper, ascend the fortifications and rip the reigns of command from the Sith Empire here, claim victory.

A simple aim, a contrived, bloody and horrid mess in between now and then.

Good.

More opportunities to put down the delusional chattel who put themselves between the Imperator and his objective.

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Hunter Blackburn
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | OPEN

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

G R A N D _ V I Z I I E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'

NUCLEAR

Eighteen Hours Pre-Dantooinefall
NIV 'EPITAPH II'
NEW IMPERIAL SPACE
​

Tyrell stared at himself in the mirror. His sunken eyes spoke tortured volumes that he refused to hear. At times, it had become increasingly difficult for him to recognize himself. The rings beneath his eyes seemed to intensify in their dark, greyish hue every time he caught a glance of himself. His hair followed suit, bright silver materializing strand by tedious strand.

Old. That's what he was now. What he'd been for the last two decades, maybe more depending on who you asked. Too old, perhaps. With age, men became fragile. Senile. Unfit. Vice Admiral Fisk had smelled that very weakness over Yinchorr. The cauterized hole in the late Admiral's chest told the rest of the armada that this old wolf hadn't lost his edge.

Yet.

This would only stave off the ravenous ambition of the under-officers for so long. Deposition was the way of the strong. Proof of merit was the only ladder of ascension in the New Order. Not connection. Not clout. Not politics. Fisk was the first to attempt to ascend the proverbial ladder at Tyrell's expense, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

Dantooine would be a proving ground. It had been nearly forty years since Tyrell had made planetfall as a combatant. He'd started in a trooper corps, just like everyone else. But as he climbed the applicable ladders, he traded plastoid adornment and blaster rifle for durasteel hull and turbolaser battery.

For the coming struggle, he'd trade it back. If only to show the New Order what the title Grand Vizier meant. He'd show the rest of the pack why he was where he was. Maybe, those who were intent on the path of the aforementioned Vice Admiral would think twice after Dantooine.

This didn't make him young again. It was inescapable. But, humans have a way of holding onto things in spite of futility. This was no different. His position wouldn't last forever, but he wasn't going to vacate it without a fight. That fight would be Dantooine. Better that than more young officers with holes in them.

The vibro-razor buzzed. The blade screeched sharply as swath after swath of Tyrell's graying facial gruff was carved away. The coarse hairs fell into the rushing sink, carried away into the drain, lost forever in the bowels of Epitaph II's plumbing. Then came the pigment. Fingers ran through locks, coating every strand with the facade paste.

Synthfabric towel absorbed the water that came to rinse the excess. Tyrell opened his eyes and again looked into the mirror. It did not make him younger. Though, it sure gave that illusion. The illusion of the young ace that used to don the plastoid, that was once stationed on Dantooine, that met a woman named Liese, that left her high and dry when the Imperials pulled out.

Age was inescapable, but everyone had the same habit of pretending.

EMPTY THE CHAMBER

Present
Garang City, Dantooine
501st Legion 'Imperator's Fist'
Task Force 'Axis'
PATRIARCH-ACTUAL
​

The descent had been the easy part. Patriarch's RDAG had been lucky enough to avoid being blown out of the sky. After that, it was just a quick repel to the surface. Everyone always dreaded the descent, but more often than not, it ended up being the very least of their worries. The same was true this time. Besieging the Garrison was the real concern.

He'd been the earliest of Task Force Axis to touch down, yet there had still been little time for entrenchments. Not as if the cityscape did well to facilitate such a thing. The push had been a grueling one. A tibanna-laced meatgrinder toward the Garrison. The dogged rhythm of boots, boots, boots, slogging through the city was almost hypnotic. Only the intermissions of skirmish and death killed the tedium.

The support from the reactive fabrics in the Storm Armor was enough to stifle the need for his cane. Though, every step had its own miniature excruciating tinge. A keen eye would have caught the smallest sign of a limp that not even his best efforts at grit could hide. Despite the pain, and the leg's refusal to operate one hundred percent, he didn't allow it to slow him down.

At his lead, the men pushed indomitably through the city. Blaster fire roared. Hundreds of flaming streaks cut through the air, punching into plastoid, indiscriminate of allegiance. Tyrell's marksmanship had accrued a sizeable spread of rust, but he was still alive. That was worth something. He could still push. He could still prove.

The push came to a stalemate with only a kilometer to go before the final stretch. In an alley, just shy of the line of fire, Tyrell stood helmet off, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Smoggy vapors pushed out from between his yellowing teeth. The comms chatter echoed in the vacant opening of his helmet. The resonance amplified against the surface of the dumpster it rested upon.

<"We got clipped on our descent but we're en route. Don't hold your breath for us. Keep pushing.">​

Tyrell flicked the rolled vice onto the concrete. He retrieved the helmet and placed it over his head, turning it slightly to initiate the atmospheric lock with a hiss and click. "Enigma is on the ground," he relayed to the officer nearby.

"Do we wait?"

"No, we keep pushing. He'll find us."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline | Hunter Blackburn
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | OPEN

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER

I AM FUELED BY ALL FORMS OF FAILURE

In orbit
Several hours before engagement​

A crowd gathered within one of the hundreds of briefing rooms within the Dissident Aggressor. Ryv Karis looked out at a sea of faces, his own features a mask of stoicism as he met their individual gazes. Most were familiar to him, while others were complete strangers garbed in stark white and plated gray. He couldn't place all their names, but he knew of their deeds. The Imperial Knights were a dangerous bunch with a service list as long as the New Jedi Orders. These weren't run of the mill soldiers under his command. These were practiced killers, trained to face even the most brutal Sith Lord without backing down. They were as much his people as the New Jedi Order, and he wagered most of them knew that.

The Sword of the Jedi may not have earned his title when it was bestowed upon him, but he had since fought tooth and nail to prove himself worthy.

And worthy he was.

If not for his contributions to the New Imperial war effort, the Sovereign-Imperator would not have put his trust in leading his gallant order. Rurik Fel would not so readily have accepted him as his peer in command, and his Knights wouldn't blindly follow a Jedi into battle.

Ryv cleared his throat, a not-so-subtle signal for everyone's attention.

"We're only a few hours out from engaging the enemy, people. If you aren't ready, it's time to focus up," he reached down and brushed a hand across a terminal to his right. "We've received reports the Sith have stationed their planetary garrison within the capital city. We're assuming they'll use their citizens as some kinda deterrent for the bulk of our forces. So, we'll be splitting the Jedi-Imperial strike force into two specific points of interest," as he spoke, the holo-terminal projected Dantooine's capital, Guhrang. "Auteme of the New Jedi Order will establish a field hospital outside of the city limits. Those of you stationed beside her are expected to defend it with your lives. Now, it may be difficult. We'll be evacuating Sith-Imperial legionnaires alongside wounded Stormtroopers and citizens, but we are not to discriminate who we aid. This is our opportunity to show to the galaxy the Silver Concord may be in bed with the darkness, but we are not."

The projection shifted to an overview of the city. "If necessary, you will be deployed out into the city to aid in evacuation efforts. If so, treat all Sith-Imperial personnel as hostile. The Imperator's Rules of Engagement apply to citizens only. And while I cannot stop you all from handling your engagements with the Silver Jedi as you see fit," his visage softened as he looked to the Jedi gathered before him. "It is paramount those of the New Jedi Order do not turn our back on our brethren. They are misguided, not fallen. We can still bring them back from the brink, I'm sure of it.

Now," he clicked another button on the terminal. The city disappeared as a temple materialized in its place. "Master Fel and I will lead the rest of you against the forces located at the Sith Temple. We will rip it down piece by piece, purge whatever monstrosities they've collected within, and cull those who've given into the Dark Side's corrupting influence. This is a target-rich environment, am I clear?" he went silent and waited, only picking back up after a series of nods and verbal affirmations rolled through the room. "Good. The last one out of the temple buys drinks for everyone," he looked over them all, committing faces to memory. "And for what it's worth," he smiled. "May the Force be with you."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Auteme | Rurik Fel | Kenth Ordo | Creuat | Zaavik Perl | Loske Treicolt | Hal Vaiken | Cotan Sar'andor | Dorian Sicarrio | Lucien Dooku | Oceiros Sunstrider | @Jedi | @Imperial Knights

​

Explosions rocked the earth as Sith-Imperial artillery rained down all around them. The ground trembled as each shell kicked up a torrent of rock and dirt to come crashing down on the charging Jedi and Imperial forces.

"Incoming!" Ryv shouted at the top of his lungs. He switched his saber to the cybernetic hand and lifted the other with only a second to spare as a fiery burst of energy ripped into space only a dozen meters ahead of them. A transparent barrier took shape as heat rolled over it. The concussive force slammed into the wall a split-second later, the strength behind it enough to send Ryv sliding several inches back. Fissures grew along the flickering barrier quickly, spiderwebbing out until it eventually cracked and shattered. While it took the brunt of the explosion, Ryv couldn't stand firm. He felt his feet leave the ground as he whipped through the air. Limbs thrashed about unsteadily until he hit the dirt and carved a groove through what remained of once beautiful turf.

He rolled over from his stomach to his back and attempted to move. Nausea and pain crippled the attempt. Ryv fell back against the sundered field, craned his neck, and studied his immediate surroundings.

True to form, Loske stood between him and a line of red armored legionnaires. As they opened fire on the charging Force-users, Loske, alongside a dozen others, met the swarm with deft strikes and swift parries. An unlucky few Sith-Imperials fell to their own bolts, while others managed to get behind cover and prepare another onslaught. She might've looked back at him, but he couldn't be sure. Between the intense sense of vertigo and the blurry vision, the best he could make out was her golden tresses and magnificent figure.

"Oooh," Ryv groaned out. "Not the time," he rolled to his side, his prosthetic hand pressed flat to aid his second attempt at getting back to his feet. Instead, he was met with the now-familiar form of Shaka. A strong hand enclosed around Ryv's wrist and tugged the Kiffar back up. They stood there a few seconds longer as the Thyrsian Jedi Knight maintained his vigil, attention split between their foes and the Sword. "Alright," Ryv took a step back and reactivated Resolve. "I'm good," he weakly punched Shaka's shoulder and looked to the pillar of shadow desecrating Dantooine.

"Let's burn it to the fucking ground," Ryv grinned, the excitement in his eyes impossible to miss. Months away from the front may have led to quiet days and lazy nights, but they hadn't dulled his blade or smothered his spirit.

He lifted his verdant lightsaber and pointed at the monolithic evil. Behind him, the New Jedi Order's standard, hoisted high by the Shaka Sunstar whipped erratically, caught in a ceaseless wind.

"Put them to the sword. And don't stop until every single one of them is dead."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Loske Treicolt | Shaka Sunstar
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Whispers of Lumirith

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch; The Night Queen, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Enclave, Dantooine
Equipment: Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Striith vibrosword | G1 OmniLink || Shield talisman | Taozin amulet | Healing amulet | Empyrean gland
Writing with: Creuat

The warrior who did not come to war. Ironically, Ingrid was just the head of a militaristic state, a few days away from announcing that she was the new empress. She had also informed the TSE management about this so that they would not be affected unexpectedly, and she knew that they would be happy about it. It has been an open secret within the Eternal Empire since the Emperor died and saved Ingrid and those on the ship with his last command. That they could leave the ship, and then even the rift had to be closed. If anyone survived the destruction of the ship, it was stuck in that dimension because of the closure.

The Overlord has now arrived at Dantooine as an independent, third party in an effort to smooth the diplomatic conflict between the two hostile factions. Although they were allies with the TSE, they could not openly assist the TSE under the contract with the NIO and thus with Irveric Tavlar , at most in defence, but they could not attack the NIO in the back. That is why she was more of an independent party. She was no longer a double agent and the wedding between the woman and Adrian had not yet taken place, so her noble title was still pending within the TSE. She now had just no title within the Sith Empire. So she try to reconcile the parties if she can.

One party was neutral and the other was an ally. By default, she couldn’t get any trouble because neither side could attack her. That is why she wore only her uniform and military coat without rankings and did not arrive in armour. Now most people recognized her anyway, as she had ruled and controlled the Eternal Empire as Empress Regent for months, and now she was the Eternal Empress. The red-haired woman didn't worry if she had any problems, she would still be able to protect herself. Her first thing, however, was to help get the relics out of here, since she was neutral, no one really could have the right to stop and investigate what she wanted to get out of here.

Diplomatic immunity; Caedyn Arenais caught her attention a few months ago, it was time to live with it. That is why she managed to get into the Sith Academy, where she landed with her diplomatic ship. They told the NIO through the official communication channel that it would remove the wounded from here. Under no circumstances could she or anyone be denied this. This was one of the unwritten rules of war. As soon as she got out of her ship, she immediately sent a telepathic message to AMCO .

~ Handsome, I'm here. I hope the crates and containers are ready to be loaded onto the ship, the ones you want to take out of here and save. You can instruct your people to start loading them. And I'll be there for you soon. ~

The next moment, however, she stopped, feeling that she could not send the message. Ingrid reached out to the Force to find the Sith Lord, but she didn't feel her lover. Now she didn’t feel the emptiness because she felt the Force-bond was between the two of them, yet she was unable to sense or locate her fiancé. Now she regretted not bringing the Soul to make it easier to find the other one. What was strange, though, was that no one was here. The boxes were here, but no sign of life.

Of course she sensed others from inside the Enclave, but Adrian's men should have waited here. She signalled with her hand to her men to begin packing into a ship the artefacts and boxes. The red-haired woman chose regular traditional communication to Adrian, a short text message. But if the man is experimenting, the Sith Lord may not have OmniLink, so for safety's sake, she also gave orders to the Shadow Company members on the planet to find Adrian. In the meantime, she's trying to find out where the man is here in the Enclave.

​

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

OBJECTIVE I: HELPING FOLKS, SAVING PEOPLE

g o d s p e e d

JUST SOME CONCERNED CITIZENS
​

Ravraa Vyshraal. He had been many things due to the conflict that raged across the Outer Rim, across the Run, he had become things that he never dared dream, things that he never honestly wanted. What was it that had made him stay? Through the blood, blasterfire, and the tears, what had compelled him to throw his life on the line time and time again for such vague ideas as an “Imperial nation-state?” He couldn’t be sure. It was meant to be a quick rant through Imperial life, a sampler, maybe swipe some blasters and helms on his way out, have something to laugh about with pa once he finally got home. He passed the tests, he pushed the limits, and through the distant, dodgy spacer, what had been forged? He smiled less now of days, but he laughed the loudest he could remember in years. Emotions came harder, with more confusion, more stress, more hellfire with every twitch of feeling that racked it’s way through his body. It was so easy to hate, wasn’t it? Why shouldn’t it be They weren’t people, how could they be? Servants of the dark. Servants of evil itself. Propaganda? He still remembered the moment before he turned the blaster on Noxwalda, the fear that crept behind the visor of his helmet, the uncaring tone in the mantra as he let the trigger fall and drop the man to the floor. What separated Noxwalda from Ravraa besides the faith they subscribed to? Besides the fact that Noxwalda had been born with the wrong gifts in the wrong place?

It wasn’t something he could ever hope to properly understand. He couldn’t understand the Sith, the Jedi, they were far past his realm of knowledge and conceptualization.

Ravraa understood people, men and women on the ground. He knew why people pushed through the struggles that they faced, he knew why people could be hardened under a hard system, and over the horizon, past the Run, was a state dedicated to exactly that. They bled, the soldiers that served the Sith Empire, they were people. Men and women, boys and girls, he had seen the worst at Bastion.

He didn’t have to serve, and Dorn-2 never had to answer his call.

~~

“You’re asking a hard question, Captain, I hope you know that.” Haupont’s voice flickered through the holocall, her digitalized image standing in the dead center of the administrative desk that Ravraa had come to know so well in the past few weeks.

“I’m not a captain anymore, moff, er’ever they care to call me. Hau, you don’t report to me no-more, can’t go commandin’ ya. I’m askin’ this as a friend.” Ravraa leaned forward in his seat, the room buzzing around him. Someone was knocking on the door. Another call echoing somewhere down the hallway. His overalls were stained and worn, the smell of smokes long spent drifted through the open air. He looked tired.

“What would I tell command? The 501st needs to be at full strength during this campaign, we can’t affor-”

“No, they can’t. But when was Dorn-2 ever the lackey of the Legion Specops. Eh? Running here and there, don’t think we e’er were too missed that much, no.”

There was a period of silence between the two. The dragging voice of Ravraa cutting through straight into the barracks that Haupont stood inside, slowly, a smile creaked across her face.

“Jeresan missed you, Rav. He hasn’t shut up about you since your promotion. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. See you soon.”

With that, the feed blinked into blackness. Officially, a moff leading a contingent of 501st troopers outside of their legal command would draw some eyes from the senate, unofficially? No one would notice a few plain clothed partisans in the mess that the conflict was bound to be.

~~

A small drop ship, payments pushed into the right hands, saw Dorn-2 once more reunited, Scuttling to the surface of Dantooine inside of a civilian class transport vessel. The twilight of real space, the screams of different confirmation orders coming through the comms, and the silver tongued pilot finding just the right channels to redirect each question. Something about some low power projection, made it damned near impossible for most of the larger vessels tending to the siege to even notice the craft as it reached around the south hemisphere of the planet upon entry.

As the vessel shook, daring to break apart, flames scorching the sides as the pilot swore again and again that the ship would be fine, Ravraa was finally given a moment to breathe, a moment to take it in. They were all there once again. His eyes danced between his friends, posted at different seats, Thavimar leaning against the door, hosting a well balanced chat between the space between him and Dormyle. There he was, hair black as a raven, eyes as bright as the sun. They had been on a few dates during the falling years of Ravraa’s proper days as a stormtrooper, through there had never been anything much more than a parting kiss in the rainy alleyways of Bastion. There was enough blood shed by the two to fill a tub, bonds forged in combat and in passion. Perhaps, eventually, he would say exactly what feelings had welled through his form at just his sight, but not today. This mission was to be done with a clear head, a clear mind. No, instead all that was given was a tug of his hand as the ship settled on the outskirts of New Imperial lines, as the forces amassed for their siege of the main center of Sith Imperial might on the world. Blasterfire shook as the armies clashed, as the New Imperial lines pushed against the Dark, as they challenged the beast once again.

A stormtrooper, clad in betaplast, would scare a civilian of this paradise world. A couple humans and an alien, however? Could pass as their neighbor.

Hopping off of the transport, slapping powercells into their unmarked blasters from hidden away caches in their jackets and plainclothes, Ravraa took one more glance through the group.

“We’re here to save folk, Sith, Imperial, could care less. Fire when fired on, past that, don’t aim to kill. We get them out, friendly faces, bright eyes.”

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
A SQUADRON, 1ST SOD
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'
T H E _ H E L L I O N

The ceasefire negotiations with the Sith had been short and the New Imperial Order was once more onto the offensive. For the thousands of worlds they still held under the boot of the Sith Lie, for the worlds they had liberated during the Braxant Campaign which the Sith had enacted a nuclear holocaust upon in their flight. It was time for the Sith to be erased from the galaxy and only the few, the brave would dare to do so - to cross the line, to make sure the line's still there in the morning.

<"Roger that, Vindicate-Actual."> he replied with the coldest of voices to the intelligence received from Vindicate-Actual - Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt and turned to his men aboard the gunship, "They haven't evacuated the locals." The hum of the engines and the occasional rattle of turbulence reigned supreme for a long minute. The 1st Special Operations Detachment were hardened veterans, older than ideal and had seen their fair share of horrors in war. No one said a word.

"As of now the established rules of engagement are in full force." Jaeger stated solemnly. He had protested against the Imperator's decision as Tavlar knew these rules would further exacerbate their odds. Odds which were already made nigh impossible with the unholy alliance of the galaxy against them - Sith, JEDI, even, and Confederates.

Yet, Jaeger understood him.

As the gunship pierced through the clouds to reveal the endless fields and rolling hills around the capital city of Dantooine, Jaeger couldn't help but remember his own tribulations home on Empress Teta when he was young. He knew all too well what it was to fight for your home planet. Historians have always painted such heroes, as if they were uplifted in a whirlwind of inspiration and an unbreakable will to carry on; yet, the truth drifted further from that. To shed blood in the streets in the same sacred streets which until yesterday were preserved as a cherished memory of a priceless childhood. To see yesterday's friendly neighbor Uncle Kal be today only a number on a casualty sheet. To bear the burden of carrying memories of loss and death in place of the memories etched of a time when the grass was greener, the light was brighter and the tastes were sweeter; a time of wonder with friends surrounded.

The ringing of the division bell had begun. Despite the warnings, despite the calls to evacuate the city as they had done so with the countless worlds the New Imperials previously liberated across the Braxant Run. The Sith had taken the Imperator's homeworld as a hostage with the full collaboration of the Jedi deceivers - their supposedly mortal foes.

And Jaeger Harrsk would make them all pay.

"Sir, I've received an affirmation from Operation: Spartacus." Major Loghain, his right-hand man in the 1st SOD reported. "Operative Apollo is active." he nodded curtly. COMPNOR had its own cards to play, even though he wouldn't personally oversee them this time. Hunter Blackburn , also known as operative Apollo, had been deployed prior with the refugee waves from the Braxant campaign to form a resistance and incite an uprising against the Sith. He would've been certain of the asset's success had the galaxy not formed to clash against the New Imperials, despite propagating their coalition as a bulwark against the monstrous Bryn'adul.

His thoughts were interrupted as the green light of the gunship's bay lit up.

"Go, go, go, go!"

One by one, A Squadron of 1st SOD hurled themselves from the gunship. The descent kickstarted rapid beats of his heart, beats he had last felt when he was a rookie; but it had been seven years. Seven years since he had last been on the field of battle personally as a black ops operative. Behind enemy lines, in the deepest depths of hell, outnumbered and outgunned. The adrenaline rush pumping into his veins reminded him that he was no longer the young man he once was - when the days were long and the sun never set.

The sun was still the same today in a relative way but he was older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Jet-chutes kicked in, the sudden g-force slamming at his chest like a sledge hammer before his feet finally touched the ground in gratitude.

It lasted only a second. Heavy fired opened at the squadron's position scattering the commandos in different directions for the nearest cover. Harrsk's breathing had ceased for a moment before he dove into a nearby alley away from the larger, open street. He coughed his lungs out, the stench of cigarettes lingering from his mouth. Fethin' old, he told himself but maintained his cool outwardly.

"You see them?!" Harrsk yelled out at the other of his soldiers who had ran at the opposite alley and glued to its wall.

"It's coming from the terraces further down!"

Harrsk looked at the other direction of the main street. The stretch to the other intersection of alleys was too long - the Legionnaires would cut them down before they reached it.

Kark.

<"Hellion, what's your status? Get your unit up and moving, need to ascend the garrison fortifications before anything else, pull the heat off the spearhead."> came the Imperator's voice through the comms.

<"Negative, Enigma, we're--"> a sudden outburst of the repeating fire interrupted him. He squinted at the sickening noise of fire before it ceased, then, <"repeat, we are pinned down east of point Aurek, about half a klick away.">

"Colonel, they will start flanking at some point. We got to move out of here somehow!"

"Yeah, I am well aware of that, Eskel!"

Shit.

<"Demon Actual, this is Hellion Actual, we're pinned down east of point Aurek on a main street need support asap. Do you copy?">

NIO | ALLIES | Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Tulan Kor | Hunter Blackburn | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
TSE | ENEMIES | OPEN

 

[Hunter Blackburn]

O P E R A T I V E_ A P O L L O
OBJECTIVE I
DANTOOINE, GARANG CITY​

What did it mean to be free? Did it mean having an entitlement to one's fair share? To live the life of one's wishes without fear of retribution or some power looming over them? Or perhaps it was just to make decisions for oneself? Freedom was all of these things. Freedom was what every sentient in the galaxy craved, freedom was what the Sith robbed from the people of Dantooine. Forcing people into their military, establishing bases under the guise of protection when it was truly nothing more than a way to solidify their presence and power over the people of Dantooine. The Sith cared not for the people of Dantooine, when the declarations of war came they never even attempted to evacuate the city, instead herding them all within Garang. To the Sith they were nothing more than pawns to be used as shields. It was this that gave birth to a resistance right under the Sith Empires noses. For freedom could not simply be bestowed upon another, it had to be achieved.

In the confines of a dilapidated building, the transmission sent by Imperator Tavlar played on repeat, blaring over a loudspeaker and into the streets below. The words of a man birthed on the planet, raised by the planet, and who’d seen the horrors of the Sith firsthand. The door to the building exploded open, two plasteel-clad legionnaires entering the building blaster rifles raised.

Within they found nothing but darkness, for darkness was what gave birth to fear. It was where the true monsters lay hidden, and it was these shadows that concealed the legionnaires' deaths. Like wraiths, Hunter Blackford and numerous rebels fell upon the legionnaires with fists, chunks of duracrete, and planks of wood. The soldiers didn’t even have a chance to call for help as they were crushed under the defiance of the willful. Their ichor was only the first that would be shed on this day and as their twisted, broken bodies lay upon the cold stone floor, there were cheers.

There was a faint click as a luma came on, showing over a dozen farmers and civilians of Dantooine holding makeshift weaponry, at their head stood two men. One a blue-skinned Duros, that was drabbed in the clothes typical of a farmer, in their hands a bloodied pitchfork. Beside him another figure. Hunter Blackford himself, a massive man that stood an even two meters and was built more solid than the Sith Garrison.

The Duros shook as he looked down upon the bodies, his hands gripping the shaft of the tool in a deathgrip. Those bulbous eyes carried in them something more than just defiance, they carried flames and the promise of damnation.

“This is the first step brothers!” Hunter shouted as he policed the legionnaires of their weapons, tossing one to the Duros, Takach. Keeping the other for himself the COMPNOR soldier rose, his black eyes scanning the gathered crowd. The crowd of people he’d embedded himself within, that he’d trained, and that he’d inspired.

“And what is the second step?!” Hunter shouted

“We rise!” The crowd shouted in unison.

“What will we do?!” Takach screamed after Hunter

“We’ll Rise!”

“WHAT WILL WE DO?!” Takach and Hunter screamed in unison.

“WE WILL RISE!” The chant seemed to shake the building itself, for these were more than just the chants of blinded sycophants. These were more than the chants of more than of simple soldiers. These were the chants of people who craved change, and nothing would stand in their way.

“Get on the horn and alert the rest of our people, the time to strike approaches!” Hunter said to Takach. “It is time we show the Sith why they should fear Dantooine.”

 

[AMCO]

Location: Somewhere within the Sith Enclave.
Objective: Improvised Field Trial Besh-1; harry New Imperial forces.
Equipment: Polyweave Suit, G1 UltraDeluxe, Shield Talisman, Soulstones, Empyrean Gland, [2] Jin'Pins
Writing With: Runi Verin & Amea Virou

For the briefest moment, it had seemed like a peace of sorts was on the horizon... and then it had all fallen flat.

Curse the New Imperial dogs and their damnable vendetta, the delays they had caused within nonmilitary fields of research were a constant headache, to the point where the Pillar of Advancement had almost begun to consider every shift of resources a personal slight.

Slender fingers running across his furrowed brow, he sighed dramatically despite the lack of an audience. Ingrid L'lerim 's people would be here shortly, no doubt, so at least the remaining relics would be taken care of. Speaking of, what was it with the Sith Order and keeping artefacts on border worlds? If the current Paragon of Knowledge hadn't been so busy devouring souls in the Nether, he would long-since have demanded an explanation.

Bloody hard to get HoloNet reception in Chaos, to no one's surprise.

Oh well, those were all tomorrow's issues. For now, it was all he could do to give those curs a proper welcome and amass some valuable data along the way; perhaps he would take out the fury he felt at the cuts in the blue skies research fund on those he deemed responsible.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala

Joycelyn hated Jedi more than most, even here among the Sith.

Her whole life had been about hating them, plotting against them, inventing cruel and imaginative ways of hurting and tormenting them. She hated this whole deal almost as much as she hated their order, and yet- In the middle of a war-zone with her second-most hated enemy, and with a deep-set frown, the Vahla extended a hand toward Sakadi.

And she spoke three bitter words.

“For my people.”

Hours earlier:

“In these most trying of times, it is all too common for our young girls and boys to grow up without a guardian. Too often, they are torn away by vicious and craven attackers. We are beset by enemies, but the Empire protects; the Empire provides. I hope these younglings will look up at me and see, I am their guardian.” she unclipped her sabre from her belt, fluently with a little flourish. “With no further ado: It is my honour and my joy to declare this, the Dantooine chapter of the Imperial Dawn Domicile, open!”

She raised her lightsabre and brought it down in a dramatic, sweeping arc on the thick chains that barred the entrance of the spectacular structure. The chains sprang apart as if delighted to be free, and the crowd roared with cheers while applauding. The faces of young ones beamed up at the Empress of the Sith Empire as she held her bloodshine blade up high.

Her newly polished breastplate gleamed in the sun, highly contrasted against the black and red clothes. The gold of her diadem, the Wreath of the Sovereign, shone brightly as it nestled between the neatly combed, black locks of her hair. She did not look like most Sith there as she stood, smiling, her cheeks showing just hints of dimples. Enormous, commanding, and fearsome, but only when eyes locked did her sinister presence in the Force truly show.

Like the eyes of a predator shining in the night.

The lightsabre was already inactive when she knelt down and gathered up a pair of children in her arms and lifted them up high, much to their delight. Pictures were taken, cameras rolled, and SINN newscasters embellished as the imperial propaganda machine continued to build the Empress reputation.

Invasion:

Dire times called for drastic measures.

The edicts of the Sith stated that a master without an apprentice is a master of nothing; the same applied for an empress. Without her people, her purpose would be hollow in their absence. This whole treaty was only supposed to be about the Bryn’adûl, about sharing a front. Joycelyn thought even that was a stretch, yet there she stood.

She had extended the offer of truce with her arch enemy so she could protect her people. They were her greatest charge, greatest challenge, but also her greatest power yet.

The Empire protects; the Empire provides.

-

Everyone in the Sith-Imperial Citizens’ Army had trained for this day. Some among the zealots had even prayed for the wait to be over and for their mettle to be tested: War on Dantooine. Some were too young, some were too old, some simply cared more about protecting home and hearth than they did about expansion, but they all shared one sentiment: Nobody karks with their Empire.

Stashes of blasters and explosives had been cracked open from dusty containers and distributed throughout their ranks. Words went around the moment the notice hit. New recruits were coming in too. They were the ones who never thought war would come to Dantooine, or anywhere they lived. What were the odds, right?

An old man in a hoverchair instructed his grandchildren how to load the missile launcher while casually loading his old slugthrower. He used to be a bounty hunter, as good as any Mandalorian, he claims. His wife looks on while clearing out the barrel of her old blaster: Original Autocrator, a real classic.

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
​

"May the force be with us all..." He said in reply to Ryv and to the rest of the Jedi and Imperial Knights present. Cold and eerie to be uttering such the phrase again.

"For the Empire..." He says as well, directed more toward his Knights as their own rally, pressing a closed iron fist against his chest. For the Empire, the true Empire as it was. The true Imperial. The dream they sought to will into existence.

Darkness fell. Now it was time to bury it. Dantooine under any other circumstances might have been a mundane and perhaps small scale excursion by the New Imperial Order, past the break and flexing of the fortified warfront between the shard of the Sith Eternal and the Iron Sun, Dantooine offered little in the means of strategic assets up to either of these blood feuding Imperial belligerents.

But it was a symbol, a symbol for the Sith of their ability to twist, contort and contrive the very fabrics of the Galaxy to suit their twisted and depraved vision for how things should be, an ode of gore, oppression, fealty and decadence, the swan song of an imploding Galaxy.

Dantooine wasn't a battle of strategic assets, it was a battle of who would grasp the reins of destiny within the Galaxy. Those willing to do what must be done and those more content to blind themselves in silken wool of their own gilded foundations.

But the winds of change blow and weak foundations crumble.

It was time.

That horrid crack and hiss of the argent blade willing to life drew its brilliant note of cold elegance before Rurik wrought the blade down low with his cybernetic hand, the plasmatic argent willing through the crimson duraplast and mortal flesh of the trooper before eventually the cleave met purchase at the adjacent side of his torso, the body trembling to the ground beneath.

"Knights! Forward! For the Empire!" Rurik shouts, unveiling the very first bout of vitriol into his voice as he wills the command, hefting his saber into the air to accompany the command, willing the strike team of Imperial Knights toward the back entrance of the Sith Enclave, attacking in tandem with the New Jedi Order in the hopes of splitting the attention of the defenders.

Though with him was a straggling Jedi, one of the few who might not so easily swallow their virtue in order to participate in this alliance but understood the neccesary measure regardless. Oceiros.

Rurik glanced his direction with cold eyes, knowing well the Sunstrider could sense that dark presence all the same.

The very same which snuffed out the burning light of his kin, Arcanus.

While Oceiros had the delusion of redemption, Rurik knew the indomitable truth that came with vengeance.

THE UNTHINKABLE
Darth Carnifex | Thurion Heavenshield

THE WILLING
Oceiros Sunstrider​

 

[Dhuzgnar]

OBJECTIVE I: BREAKING THE CULT

m a m a, w e a l l g o t o h e l l

​

The stormtroopers had the tough job, they had to hold the land, they had to fend off the barbarians that would come to rip it away from the corpses that had died to gain every last inch, within those corpses would be the brave fighting men of the Imperial Infantry. Within those brave fighting men would be the determined soldiers of Reek Line, the same squadron that Dhuzgnar found himself employed with. The name fit the squadron, afterall, time and time again they had proven to be some of the hardest set, lionhearted soldiers that this New Empire could offer to service. Pulled from a variety of backgrounds, from the scattering of worlds in and out of the control of the NIO, the unit proved to be highly cosmopolitan. It made sense then, that the first Nekghoul that sought out employment in the NIO armed forces would be put with these fine men of war.

Though, while the men and women fighting in a conflict may be gallant, may be brave, may be willing to lay down their lives for ideals greater than themselves, that did not mean that they were fighting in just conflicts. That did not mean that they would see sights worth singing songs and praises of, that did not mean that they would go home proud of what they had done.

War was Hell, and anyone that says otherwise hadn’t walked a single inch in the boots of the Imperial Infantry.

The briefing was the first worry that settled with Dhuzgnar, and the lighshow of the flickering holo screen rattled off ideas of citizen’s militias, how to identify non-combatants within groups that by all rights should be given ideas of non-combatants, to even what to do when faced with a youth solider, the film reel could do little to prepare him for what the conflict of war would bring to the forefront, what the Sith Empire would do to protect their gains, to protect their sovereignty. Apparently, nothing was below their morals, apparently, there was fair risk of accidental citizen deaths with even the most well trained of blasterman during this conflict, apparently, the siege was to be cushioned with the lives of the innocent.

Human shields, pearls of the Force, used as fodder, put in the line of fire, for what?

It wasn’t in the minds of those lighting on the front lines to pass judgement, however, only to act on their own morals. They prepped, and all they could pray for was the cool under fire that all men-at-arms wax and wane about.

Though, he would have to survive the conflict in the city before he would ever have to properly worry about how he would sleep at night anymore.

“Move the repeater up the street!” Came the scream from Kant Kothi, the Umbaran sergeant in command of the squadron. Moments after the command was given, the large sack of strawberry blond fur and rage that made up the wookie Rorurra, the designed heavy weapons expert of the squad, heft his EW-ALE rig up and start moving forward along the city street, peeling off of the broken down hovercar he was using as cover as blaster bolts sparked off of dirt floor and paneling of the city buildings from a series of overturned tables and hastily parked speederbikes that made up the Sith-Imperial defense settled at the T-junction in the center of the street.The rest of the squadron kept their cover behind pillars and rubble as Ezzirex, a rifleman much like Dhuzgnar, went to peak out to provide covering fire for the advancing wookie. A hurl of bolts against the pillar sent him right back behind it. The screams, scent of burning fur, and the sound of more weight than would be normally supported slamming against durracrete told Dhuz that the Sith-Imperials had gotten a good beat on the wookie. He could see him, he had collapsed down the way, along the sides of one of the walls to the shops that lined the strip. Upper shoulder was burnt black, and the repeater was thrown to the side as he brought himself around one of the decorative statues that settled on the outside of the shop. Something analogous to the hounds that roamed the fields of Dantooine, it absorbed blaster fire plenty well, however.

Dhuz brought the SFR-58 to his shoulder, knelt down, and pulled himself around the corner. The kick sending bolts burning into the makeshift barricade, one catching one of the Sith infantry in the stomach after getting a bit to brave during a reload. It was hard to make out, Legionarie or militia from this range.

How much did it matter.

“Hold on, Ror! Damned near got them on the run!”

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501ST STORMTROOPER LEGION
71ST GHOST VIPERS | PYTHON COMPANY
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | MELEE | GRENADES

STAND

36 HOURS PRIOR
BASTION​

<"There isn't any fault in the system, Djorn. The fault is the system. Thing's could've been different...and they would've been much, much worse. Everything we've bled for...every time we've laid our lives on the line for that-">

<"You yearn for control of your own will a great deal for a man who has none...the Sith control your fate...the Sith sent you here to strike me down. But you hesitated...because you know...you know what victory means to them. It doesn't peace and order...its means more, more of that bloody, depraved indulgence they have in needless slaughter and the death of innocence. In disorder with the guise of utopia. They're demented.">

<"You didn't have the choice...none of your men did, neither did mine. That is why I fight, that is why I'm here with them. To go into the fire and cleanse the earth of this malfeasance so that our sons and daughters will never have to do the same. And I will make that sacrifice, every time. Because I never had the choice. I do my duty and I do my duty to the end, Bline. So long as they march with me, I will be with them, always.">

Those words still rung through his head ever since Bastion, a day that shook the Galaxy when mortal men and women defied and triumphed over beings that were thought of as gods. That day meant many things for different people across the stars. For the New Imperials? It was a day of victory, proving against the odds against the former overlords that their courage and spirit could counter against the malevolence of the Dark Side of the Force; it proved that simple, honest men and women didn't need to fear such degeneracy that for too long ran rampant across the Galaxy, oppressing individuals as slaves and raining death unto worlds for despicable reasons; they encouraged strength and resilience in others whether they were New Imperials or not, sparking a light to charge against the darkness and to overcome these false dark gods.

For Djorn? It was day when he freed himself from the shackles of deceit that the Sith had leashed around his collar. He was a good, loyal soldier in their ranks that never stopped marching for a belief the Sith twisted to make him believe he was fighting for the dream. The Imperial Dream. A vision where a Galaxy would come united under one idea and its people cherishing an era of order, peace, and prosperity. A vision his forefathers yearned for, tirelessly fighting for it until their hard work would ultimately pay off; a fight Djorn inherited, but sadly realized all that they had lived and died for was a lie. A lie they accepted from the Sith, leading them to create statues and monuments in the name of the Dark Creed; conquering and suppressing systems under the banner of the Sith. He hadn't realized the crimes he committed, believing all the orders he executed was for the idea of Imperialism and not of the Sith Code.

But his eyes saw the reality of things, Irveric's words dawning the light on the lies they both fought for. It was a painful realization, his core shook when he finally understood the truth. The body and mind he sacrificed didn't accomplish a damn thing for Imperialism, but instead promoted the reach of the Sith Code. Djorn believed he controlled his fate, his destiny when in fact he was just a mere pawn for the Sith. He had done their bidding, served their whim with the delusion that he controlled his own will when in fact he didn't and had none. All those years of service, of loyalty...meant nothing.

He was robbed.

Anger consumed his heart from the pain of the truth. All those men under his command died in vain...but it didn't have to be that way. No, he would make sure their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

I won't let your sacrifices be in vain. I will always be with you. Plant your roots in me. I won't see your names forgotten in the wind.​

The fire within him would only push him beyond his limits. He would do his duty, and he would do it to the end. He would dive into the fire and spill the blood of his desire. He would give it all, sacrifice all for the rays of the Iron Sun to burn the dark veil of the Sith, eradicating them from this Galaxy.

Long ago he didn't have a choice just like Tavlar said to him on Bastion, but now he did. And he wouldn't allow anyone suffer a fate worse than death under the thumb of the Dark Creed.

The Braxant Run was just the beginning of this crusade...

TROOPER

PRESENT
GARANG CITY, DANTOOINE
501ST STORMTROOPER LEGION
71ST GHOST VIPERS | PYTHON COMPANY
TASK FORCE ‘AXIS’​

...and Dantooine would bring them closer to the end of it.

The familiar presence of anxiety surged within him during the flight. Every soldier, green or veteran, felt that feeling. It was impossible to not surrender to it. They knew the odds they were up against as they did not face one banner of crimson, but others with different colors. Above the skies of Dantooine there were reports of Confederacy vessels entering the fray, taking a stance along with the Sith against the defiance of the New Imperials. It was no surprise to them as prior to this assault the media made it known of the pact arbitrated between the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Concordia, and the Sith Empire. A pact originally to combat the threats of the Brynadul, but it would seem that it was convened for other purposes as well.

To Djorn? It only unveiled the decadence and corruption within these nations, the Confederacy and Concordia pledging swords to shield a nation responsible of genocide and other immoral crimes against countless worlds. They would defend insidious monsters that poisoned the oceans of Dac? The ones that wrought fire across Thyferra? These supposed champions of democracy and freedom were just mere hypocrites to his eyes.

They were outnumbered and outgunned by this alliance, but these collaborators would all burn and suffer from the Will of Defiance found deep within the hearts of every New Imperial. This evil would witness and feel the fury of men fighting for a future that removed the damnations of the Sith.

Evil is powerful.

But courage

is ​

SOLID.​

A deep breath of air filled his lungs, eyes closed as he appreciated every molecule filling him; and when he exhaled, it almost seemed that the fear and anxiety that crept up his skin was casted aside and replaced with courage. There was no turning back now, they all knew that. They would make their stand here and prove how resilient their resolution was.

Endless golden fields greeted them, Dantooine still retaining its roots being a backwater world with little industrial developments consuming its fields. Despite how regressive the planet was, it seemed that it could offer a chance of peace and tranquility. A simple, humble life with honesty. But with the Sith occupying it, it would never know a life of peace with the oppressions of its Dark Masters. A life of compliance and conformity because of fear was just another way of being a slave.

<"This is Diamond Snake, over.">

Djorn responded to his comm device that cried out for his callsign. It was relayed to him by one of General Voi'kryt's officers, the same message that was relayed to him with the other commanders of Task Force 'Axis'. The contents of the message warned Djorn of civilians still within Garang, the capital of Dantooine which hosted a military garrison. Under rules of engagement, they were to not harm and civilians and offer them aid if able.

<"Acknowledged; wilco.>"

And ended the transmission, before opening a new one to his Vipers.

<"Python Company, listen up! There are civilians still within the city, looks like the Sith want to have a meat grinder in Garang. You all know the rules of engagement, over.">

Despite the warnings they gave the Sith didn't bother in evacuating those residing in the capital, something that didn't surprise him. They knew they were coming, and yet they wanted to drag non-combatants into the horrors of war. Cowards, that’s all that they were. The Sith never stopped proving Irveric how right he was that there wasn’t any fault in the systems; the fault is the system.

<“This is Forest-Three, we are entering the city limits of Garang City. Be advised, we’re taking heavy fire from ordnance and repeaters. Be prepared to disembark, over.”>

No need to tell them about the barrage of explosive projectiles and heavy weapons they were dodging. They were now behind enemy lines, sandwiched between the garrison and hostile forces reinforcing the city’s outskirts against Lyra’s advancement.

<“This is Forest-Three, we are arriving at the drop point; Snake, get the hell off my hawk.”>

<“Acknowledged, Forest-Three.”>

With the repel line of the gunship Djorn and a squad of his Ghost Vipers, Cobra Squad, descended on to the ground within a street of the urban city. No hostiles gunning them down...yet. While this operation was nothing unconventional, Djorn and his unit were trained to operate in the conventional aspects of warfare and they knew their part in this Task Force; being the point of the spear.

<“Vipers! You know the drill, we’re taking point.”> his eyes caught sight of a tall building several blocks from their position. Between them? Hostiles and civilians.

<“All squads, I’m sending you coordinates for us to regroup and stage an overwatch view for reconnaissance. We’ll be the eyes for the other units, over.>”

He closed that secured transmission line between all the squads of Python Company and opened up one directing to Irveric, Jaeger, and Tyrell.

<“Enigma-Actual, Hellion, and Patriarch, this is Diamond Snake. I’ll take point and secure an overwatch position for reconnaissance; I’ll be your eyes in the sky, over.”>

Making that loud and clear to the other commanders of Task Force ‘Axis’ it was time move.

<“Python Company, let’s move out!”>

Djorn and Cobra Squad filed up, Bline taking point and leading his men through an alleyway adjacent to the street they dropped in. Civilians still scattered about in the city streets, running around in different direction. Crisis consumed the city, no sense of order all thanks to the Sith Empire not evacuating Garang’s residents. Buildings would surely be occupied with terrified families, locking themselves in hopes that the fighting would pass over their homes.

All that was left was for the S-IMPS to use them body shields and force them to engage in combat. They most likely were already doing that if he was being honest with himself.

Damn psychopaths.​

They say there were no victors in war; but honestly, Djorn liked to argue otherwise. Sacrifices needed to be made all for the greater good, and vanquishing the Sith was for the greater good and a victory for all.


ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Hunter Blackburn
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | OPEN

 

[Laesero Draco]

​

OBJECTIVE II: Right the Wrong

c a r o l e a n p r a y e r​

Fealty.

That was the promise that his people swore to the Empire. It didn’t matter how many tiny fiefdoms it shattered into with the death of the Great, it didn’t matter what strifes or alliances it was forced to swear to, it didn’t matter if the idea died and the very syllables that constructed it were erased from the Galactic Lexicon, they had made a promise. The Draco line had made it their blood’s worth, sworn with golden ink and spilled as generously as they could manage, even being graced with their own Imperial blessings from their dedicated service to the throne, and Laesero intended to make good on the promise.

It had been long since he had seen a state worth the title of Empire, with the title of Imperial, worth the weight that came with the ideals of imperialism for the common man. It had been passed down, the imagery, the concepts, waxed and waned orally by storytellers on his homeworld as the blade was passed from father to son, father to son, that one day the true heirs of the Empire would arise. Originally, there were many that believe that to be in the Sith Empire, pointing to the legends of Palpatine’s own powers of the Force. The idea that it was simply power that made an Empire, the idea that it was simply the creed of their crowned that made an Empire, that was far from the promise they made.

Fealty.

Throne guardians, the final stand against those that would shatter the status quo, the Draco line made a promise to the idea of Empire, to the idea of Imperialism, to the same promises that Old COMPNOR spouted through their propaganda machines, they believed in the Imperial Dream, and just as his kin had given all to serve the old Fel dynasty of the last Great Empire, Laesero would see himself march high, once again, in service to the long lost ideas of a Common Empire, an Imperial state for the Imperial, something to separate the wheat, something to forge the best of all walks. The meek, the poor, having as much of a place in this new world as the strong, the powerful. Afterall, a true Empire should allow all to thrive, no matter their station.

He would be the guard of that promise.

Explosions rocked the ground beneath his feet as he sent foot over foot, step over step, blaster rounds screaming here and there. Warcries of the damned, occasionally, a bolt of lightning would slam inches from him. A form came up on him, fast and hard, nearly a blur, a flash of red barely skirting off of his vibroblade before he brought his shoulder hard into the man’s form, dropping him to the ground as the sound of a saber passing through his armor and silencing his protests as the Knights and Jedi behind him kept up with the charge. Between the white armor and the brown shades of robes, the crimson guard seemed entirely out of place, but there was no place he would rather be in this conflict. His double sided vibrosword stayed at his side, held like a glaive, prepped to burst into combat at any point when someone dared to breach their lines as the rushed for the entryway of the Temple.

Someone in front of him caught a blaster bolt, stumbled, and collapsed to the floor. Crimson cloaked over him soon after, edges of vibroblades dancing through the onslaught of rounds intended to finish off the wounded man. Before the sea of robes and betaplast eclipsed the shooters firing line. Red right hand reaching down, taking the hand of the downed Jedi, before pulling. Commanding him to stand tall with steady, firm guidance.

Kin of blood, kin of war, kin of enemy.

Thus the Royal Guard fought side by side with wizard and knight, demanding the capituatlation of the defenders and a swift entry into the temple.

He felt the call, like a heartbeat.

 

[Kalika Vaar]

---

---

KALIKA VAAR

---

GALACTIC ALLIANCE | NEW JEDI ORDER | JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
OBJECTIVE 1
Location: Aboard the Dissident Aggressor
Allies: Shaka Sunstar | Ryv
Marked Targets: Adron Malvern | Freyu Molidias | Xobos Yakieer
Gear: Lightsaber | Armor

POST #1

Uncertain. It was all uncertain. Kalika hated it. The ambiguity, the veil of confusion that befuddled any clear visage into the future, even the Force seemed clouded. It was all clouded. Her surroundings added to her disorientating position within the Force. She’d never been in a Star Destroyer before, let alone one of monstrous size like the Dissident Aggressor. Kalika had sat in crammed smuggler’s freighters, piloted starfighters, and sat in corvettes. But the Dissident Aggressor was so cavernous it made her long from the claustrophobic bunks of the smuggler’s.

Besides this she was in the company of Imperials, not Sith, but, Imperials, nonetheless. Wherever her eyeless gaze peered the shadows of soldiers, those tainted with the emotions and trauma of brutal combat mirrored in their soul’s projection in the Force. They burned a dull muted gray flame in her Miralukan’s vision. They did not boil with a dark crimson fury the Sith did, but still, their souls were marked with violence that was their occupation. And soon it would be hers as well. This thought disturbed her as she listened to Knight Ryv Karis’ debrief in the glow of the holoprojections.

“I thought they’d be more of you,” a voice interrupted Kalika’s meditations.

Kalika whipped her head to the side to eye a coyly smiling Storm Trooper Sergeant, cradling his helmet in his crossed armored arms.

“Excuse me?” Kalika replied.

“You, Jedi,” the Sergeant said, “I thought they’d be more of you on this one. On Dantooine. Fighting the Sith. Aren’t your kind always going on about the Darkness and how it should be fought wherever it crept?”

“That’s what I was told too,” Kalika smirked and shrugged, “My mother told me stories about the ancient Jedi and their dogged, maybe even foolishly abstinent, faith in the Light against the Dark.”

“Your mom a Jedi?” said the Sergeant.

Kalika’s smirk slumped into an emotionless line, “She was…a great sabermaster.”

“Argh,” the Sergeant grunted, rubbing the back of his head, “Sorry kid. Didn’t mean it.”

“It’s all right,” Kalika said, “To be honest, I’m just as confused as you…I really did think there would be more us fighting back the Dark...not trying to trick it or even stand by its side not matter how misguided.”

The Sergeant sigh and placed on his helmet as Ryv ended his debriefing asking the Force to be with them all. A hiss announced the helmets lock in place and the Sergeant’s voice was filtered through its rattling comms devices.

“Glad you’ll be with us kid, we’ll be needing your magic to watch us,” the Sergeant said, cynically referring to the Force as some unintelligible sorcery.

Kalika shook her head and nodded, “And may the Force be with you too.”

---

[OOC: NEXT POST WILL BE ON THE GROUND APOLOGIES]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: Libra Gold

Prior to Conflict...

Invasion.

Intelligence had started flowing in of rapid mobilization from across the border leading up to the publicly given advanced warning by the Sovereign Imperator of the impending assault. It had come right in the midst of a summit, a gathering in Sith Space as Confederates and some Jedi had come in regards to the infestation that surged, darkening worlds and destroying populations. In the midst of such a crucial fight not even this could give the traitors pause. The decision was quickly made. They would fight. They would all fight. In the wake of the warning the Dark Lord had given the order as preparations were being made for the defense of the planet, citizens closest to threatened zones or strategic areas crucial to the invasion, vulnerable individuals like elderly, young, handicapped and other sensitive cases as well as many others were moved from their homes and into secured bunkers.

Meanwhile the defense was being organized. Barricades, strategic choke points, shield generators and countless other preparations were being made. There was a mobilization of troops as they all prepared for a siege. Anxiety, nervousness, a cocktail of emotions surged. It always did even in soldiers, fear in civilians even before the battle had come. They all knew what was at stake here. They all knew what threats the Sith Empire was being faced with. But the Dark Lord elected to gather many to deliver a speech to the base, to the dedicated Sith legionnaires and the commanders who would soon put their lives on the line in his name, in the name of the empire.

”It is clear that the traitors dream is a world in which we no longer exist. To them the infestation lurking in galactic space means nothing. The war machine of the New Imperial Order prepares for assault bloated on past victories. They underestimate our true strength. No more. We will not allow them one more step into our borders, one inch of ground on our worlds. Just as the alien menace with their disruption they threaten all of galactic civilization with their short sighted ways. No more. We will stand as one against the coming threat. The men in this room may not live to see this battle through but rest assured because of your sacrifice our children, our grandchildren, our empire will survive. Let us never forget...the Sith are eternal. Qorittoi!”​

”Qorittoi!”​

“Qorittoi!”​

“Qorittoi!”​

The crowd replied in a thunderous chant. The rallying cry of the Sith Eternal, in their language it meant ‘Unto death’ or “To the end’. They would stop the New Imperial menace right here.

Short time after...

The Dark Lord stood in a chamber alone his massive frame wrapped in a suit of immense battle plate in complete silence. Daesumnor rested against the immense chair fitting for such a huge figure meditating in complete darkness when the lights suddenly came on and the doors shuddered open to reveal a form shorter in stature but no less magnificent. The man held the all the regal bearing of an experienced monarch and he radiated the power of the dark side all his own, admirable in the face of the mountain that sat before him. A form bearing many sigils and declarations of loyalty and fidelity. Confederacy, Illyria, Malvern.

Adron Malvern .

”There were those in my circle who didn’t think you would come. But I knew better.” The Dark Lord said rising from his chair. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of that sadistic runeblade and held it in a neutral position as he approached the Exarch, his other hand clenched into a fist. “You think I’ve forgotten. But I know exactly who you are. I remember everything.” He paused for a moment as he neared, eyes burning like twin suns staring at the man. ”You stand a Confederate. But I know who you truly are. Just like Isley. You were, you are, and you always will be a Sith. It is time you accepted your truth and your beliefs come home, Darth Malphas.” The giant held out a datastick in his other hand. He wasn’t asking the man to come home in the traditional sense of the term, rather something else deeper. To put aside the hatred. ”The answers you’ve been seeking. You’ll find them on here. Take it and prepare yourself for the battle to come. We stand together.”

Present…

The Dark Lord stood outside the walls of the command center, his face hidden behind a fierce helm as he stared out at the oncoming threat that descended upon them. Through his state of the art system within his armor it made him a mobile command center. Even from the battlefield he could coordinate efforts seemingly as if he stood right before a war table, tactical decisions being made in mere moments. All along voices came in from the many commanders, Sith and otherwise who were all interconnected in the defense of this world, tactical data streamed across his vision as the distant sounds of war rocked the peaceful agri world of Dantooine. Beside him stood a newer acquisition, an apprentice he had brought to experience war. It was in his nature, war. Born in blood and battle ever since he could walk. Centuries of warfare the likes of which these easterners couldn't dream of. Not even such career soldiers that stood against them could scarcely imagine the totality of all he'd been part of. They would die today. It brought him a measure of comfort that he could feel the other half of his Dyad the Emeritus Carnifex on the world, coming from his secret sanctum to defend the empire. Truly they stood as one. "Have you known war, Aurelion? To truly know war is to experience it, to live it. You will today. This will be your test. Survival." The Dark Lords eyes scanned across the world and the battle that rocked it now he connected to the battlenet that would carry him through the Sith.

"Regardless of ideology we stand together as brothers and sisters. The New Imperial menace stands an obstacle to galactic stability, it is their actions that enable the parasite to tighten its hold and darken more worlds. We stand as one. Destroy them."

Spoiler: Objectives

• Prelude:
  • A summit regarding the Bryn’adul menace terrorizing the southern systems was declared bringing the Confederacy of Independent Systems, Sith Empire and some Jedi elements to the world of Dantooine. Some of these elements were already present and exercises being conducted when word came down of an impending New Imperial assault. Now faced with the prospects of an invasion potentially sidelining their efforts against this galactic menace, the tenuous relationships are put to the test as Sith, Confederate, and some Jedi are forced to work together in a battle to throw back the warmongering Sovereign Imperator.
• Objective 1 - Hold Garang City:
  • Sith forces maintain a garrison in the capital of Dantooine. They are presently holding the line against the sudden attack of New Imperial Forces. We must not give them any ground. Provide much needed support for the civilian population that has been prepared to withstand the onslaught by the hated traitors, aid the Sith in their fight against the enemy. The Sith defense led by the Diarchy of the Sith Empress Joycelyn Zambrano and the Dark Lord Darth Prazutis stand against a vile New Imperial assault. Confederate Forces in the form of Dauntless led by Luna Terrik, and several others must band together with their recent allies and all must fight as one. The New Imperials will seek to demolish our garrison and secure the city. They must be stopped at all costs.
• Objective 2 - Defend the Sith Enclave:
  • Fighting has opened up as Imperial Knights attempt to assault the Sith Temple located over the remains of the old Jedi Enclave. Arctis Silmar and Darth Vulcanus lead the defense of the enclave for the Sith, stand with them. The enemy must not be allowed to bring the temple down whatever it takes, slay them all. Underneath are tunnels for the Crystal caves that are far reaching and extensive and provide key mobilization benefits, use these to your advantage against the enemy and ensure that none leave alive.
• Objective 3 - Space Superiority:
  • The battle for space superiority is absolutely integral to the conflict as a whole. To provide relief in supplies, troop mobilization and crucial ground support to besieged Sith forces. The New Imperials seek to establish a no fly zone over the planet, this cannot be allowed. The Sith Navy led by Taeli Raaf stands alongside elements of the Confederate Navy under the leadership of Voph that will stand against the enemy. Join in the fight. All New Imperial ships must be destroyed.

Spoiler: Tags

Allies

Taeli Raaf ​

Madelyn Lowe ​

Telis Taharin-Zambrano ​

Cara Dorniarn ​

Joycelyn Zambrano ​

Arctus Silmar ​

Other Space Kaiden ​

Onrai ​

Thaelius ​

Lark ​

AMCO ​

Iasha Rha ​

Ingrid L'lerim ​

Darth Carnifex ​

Darth Athora ​

Gnox the Insatiable ​

Darth Strosius ​

Salamander ​

Maxir Pellian ​

Tearstone
Aurelion Nova
Sanguine Nocturnal
Ursula Vizla
Blade Ice
Kyyrk
The Amalgam
Adron Malvern
Thurion Heavenshield
Darth Metus
Peyton Steele
Frank Sterling
Whispers of Lumirith
Sakadi Marathi Sinvala
Xobos Yakieer
Freyu Molidias
Kiff Brayde
Verin Oldo
Caltin Vanagor
Gerwald Lechner
Lavria Xedrim
Ty Sibo
Nimue
Ilwynog Cysgod

Abaigeal E'ron ​

Visanj T'shkali
Laertia Io
Starlin Rand
Luna Terrik
Syd Celsius
Taiia Locke
Aiden Wolf
Redd
Cord Starfall

Enemies
IMPCOM
Irveric Tavlar
Tyrell Paxxus
Jaeger Harrsk
RIP Carlyle Rausgeber
Oceiros Sunstrider
Rurik Fel
Ryv
Salvor King
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Lucien Dooku

Shaka Sunstar​

Kenth Ordo ​

Cotan Sar'andor ​

Mishel Kryze​

Caden Evesa ​

Okkeus Dainlei ​

Rynn Vizsla ​

Leon Gallo ​

Kaleleon ​

Creuat ​

Aerarii Tithe ​

Enlil ​

Loske Treicolt ​

Runi Verin ​

Amea Virou ​

Kalika Vaar ​

Sor-Jan Xantha​

Auteme ​

Tulan Kor ​

 

[Tulan Kor]

WAR IS THE ANSWER

TASK FORCE AXIS
DEMON COMPANY
TAGS: Jaeger Harrsk l NIO COMPNOR ADJACENT

He was used to the galaxy to be at war.

But he was not used to the entire galaxy being at war with him.

The former Antarian Ranger battalion- which had been cast out after Tulan sacrificed everything to save a Jedi, had been betrayed by those they once fought and died for. And so it was only natural that it came to this conclusion- that the Silvers would come to collect what they felt like they owed.

The Sith and the Jedi working against Imperials.

If someone had told Tulan this is where they'd be in two years- he'd have hit them in the face. But there he was, dropping through the sky. They'd been acting as QRF for the specialized assets behind enemy lines. Tulan was assured that they'd be called upon. Tulan was the first at the edge of the ship, high in the clouds.

He touched the chest mic he had mounted to his plate carrier.

"All team leads, pop markings when out of HALO status."

Falling, wind rushing. Gauges of temperature, wind, and oxygen flared across his wrists. Enhanced vision goggles- thermal, full spectrum white/black NVG, targeting computer in them- pulled upwards with the downward momentum. He pulled his head down as they fell through the sky. It was indescribable, the fear, the anxiety, the rush, the violence.

Commander Tulan Kor might have been afraid- but he would never show it. That came later, when all was said and done.

Now was the time for action-

And to pull the spooks out of the fire.

Red smoke and flares dotted the sky, marking to where the free-falling Demon Company members were to reconvene. Jump-chutes lined the sky, too small for anti-air and too small and fast moving to show up on radars and scopes- only naked eye observations could pinpoint them, but guessing where someone was going to land mid-freefall was a guessing game where you were more than likely to lose.

Once the SOD operatives looked up- they'd see a friendly site. The red markings of Demon Company coming to save the day.

Tulan Kor had not let a single operator stay behind, no reserve platoons. Demon Company was all in this fight. Every deployment pulled, every member pulled from leave. The entire 200-man element was coming down onto the Task Force for support. They'd called for reinforcements, and they'd get them in kind. Sappers, Snipers, Commandos of all types. Specialized units, specialized killers.

They'd come to sing their song of death for the Sith, and their song was going to be loud.

Tulan's voice was the first to come over the SOD comms, mid free-fall.

"Two minutes until Demon Company on station. Hold tight."

 

[Robogeber]

Operation: H O M E C O M I N G
Taskforce M O T H E R L A N D
Authorisation: Admiral Regent
Location: Dantooine Orbit, NIV Tregessar
Allies: Var Koon | Josiah Navollius | Naier Rambeigh | Okkeus Dainlei
Enemies: The Sith
Theme: The Attack on the Jakku Village [x]

​

The bridge of the NIV Tregessar was a writhing mass of activity as the bridge crews checked and reported in their stations. “Sensor Crew,” Commodore Lilya Gowe snarled, “Do we have an operational scan view of the sector yet?” Gowe punctuated her demand with a relentless glare which pierced the experienced, yet still youthful sensor crew.

“Commodore Gowe, we are working to have it operational soon, we just need to-” The Sensor Crew techs were shut down with a cascade of clicking heels and salutes. Gowe turned around to face a new figure coming down the bridge. Grand Admiral Rausgeber, floating by like a ghost and waving away the junior personnel who had stopped to salute him. Instead, he continued down the command deck, approaching Gowe. Lilya’s posture stiffened, and she then saluted the Grand Admiral.

“Grand Admiral Rausgeber,” Rausgeber waved her down, and yet Gowe’s posture did not ease. “Sir, as you have instructed, our fleet is in position. The initial Sith defensive force has retreated past our range,” Carlyle’s eyes narrowed, “They were however too quick, and we were unable to score any damage on them.” It was a disappointing eventuality, and Gowe’s churlishness toward that result was palpable.

“It is of little concern,” Carlyle mused drily, brushing past the subject quickly, “One way or another, the Sith will dispatch reinforcements, and that defence force is of little consequence.” Carlyle paused and assessed Gowe and her disposition, “Send word Commodore to Vice Admiral Voss, tell him of our successful arrival, and that he is to prepare for immediate reinforcing on my mark.”

Carlyle assessed the bridge and read the room. Things were acceptable for now. But, he would of course need to brief his fellow officers on what he proposed. Formations in this setting were critical to mission success. Turning heel, Rausgeber allowed Lilya to go about her task, and approached the communications table, plugging himself in, “Get me the fleet officers on screen now.” Carlyle barked to the technical crew.

The technicians began their work, and within moments the leadership of the New Imperial Taskforce Motherland appeared on screen. Admiral Var Koon, Commodore Naier Rambeigh, Flight Baron Jarvis Hume and Moff Josiah Navollius, along with their assorted junior officers and captains scrambled together for Taskforce Motherland. “Gentlemen, ladies,” Carlyle drawled, he appeared to them virtually as a man of flesh with a bright, white glistening uniform and cape. “A pleasure to see you all.”

“With our arrival in system we must maintain a consistent formation. Admiral Koon, your forces will be stationed to the Tregssars starboard. Moff Navollius, to port.” He then focused a stern gaze upon that of Commodore Rambeigh, “Commodore, you are to be the hammer to any attack. You and your contingent will smash through initial defences, while the rest of us bring up the rear. Baron Hume,” Rausgeber’s attention changed again, “Deploy yourself, and all other fighter squadrons immediately. You will be on point for fighter coordination. Be sure to escort our bombers to their targets, and maximise effectiveness.”

“Coordination will be provided by yours truly, and the KreigsGeist once operational. Any questions you fine gentlemen have? If not, maintain your positions.”

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

NIV Tregessar (x)
Prefsbelt-Class Super Star Destroyer
14x TIE/OT Squadrons [x] | 4x Petard Squadrons [x]

NIV Conquest
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer [x]
4x TIE/VX Squadrons [x]

NIV Nirauan’s Reach
Tyranus-Class Star Destroyer [x]
6x TIE/OT Squadrons | 4x TIE/HB Squadrons [x]

NIV Chaser
Stalwart-Class Carrier
7x TIE/OT Squadrons | 2x TIE/HB Squadrons | 1x Petard Squadrons

NIV Brute
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser [x]
3x TIE/HF Squadrons [x]

NIV Endurance
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser
3x TIE/HF Squadrons

NIV Initiative
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser
2x TIE/HB Squadrons | 1x TIE/VX Squadron

NIV Allecto
Escolta-Class Frigate [x]
3x TIE/NX Squadrons [x]

NIV Salvation
Escolta-Class Frigate
3x Petard Squadrons

NIV Muunillist’s Wrath
Escolta-Class Frigate
3x TIE/OT Squadrons

NIV Chasseur
Cacadore-Class Corvette [x]

NIV Pursuit
Cacadore-Class Corvette

NIV Lightening
Cacadore-Class Corvette

NIV Adventure
Cacadore-Class Corvette

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

​

"You sure you're good, kid?" Cotan asked, having just caught up to Ryv's position. "That was one hell of a blast, there's no shame in taking a moment to catch your breath." He'd just been on the brunt of one himself, just barely more prepared than the younger man was to throw up a barrier to protect himself. Blasted artillery.

Just Cotan's luck, too; show up in a New Jedi Order meeting, stay for a meal afterwards, and then get pulled along onto a ship for a fight against the Sith. It seemed that he could never manage to escape the war.

Not that he ever tried, of course; abandoning his duty to the people of the galaxy was almost as unthinkable as agreeing to ally with the Sith.

Cotan gave a nod to the Thyrsian Jedi who'd just helped Ryv back up. The man looked familiar; probably at that meeting on the Prosperity. No clue what his name was, though. Kark, is this what it's like to start getting old? I'm only twenty-nine. Not that he'd likely be ignorant of any of their names for long, after this; war had a habit of making heroes out of people, and heroes had a habit of being well known.

Or villains, but that role was kept for the Sith and their ilk.

He reached down, drawing the Force-imbued sword from his belt; beside it, a pair of lightsabers swayed a bit from the movement. "Care if I run beside the two of you for a while?" he asked the pair he was standing beside. "Helps me get back into the swing of things, trying to keep up with the younger Jedi." Made it easier to keep an eye on them and make sure nothing too terrible happened, too, though he wouldn't say that part.

Allies: NIO, Ryv , Shaka Sunstar
Enemies: TSE, CIS
Frenemies?: SJC
Direct Opponents: None yet

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Operation Harvest Dark
Codename: Rommulus and Remus
Objective: Rendezvous and Regroup with Task Force AXIS
Allies: Gedeon Rath | Dergan Twigg (x)
Rexus Gear: DARKSABRE MK IX [x] | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x] Lightsaber
Twigg Gear: DARKSABRE MK IX [x] | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x]

The sight of battle aroused all of Rexus’ senses. The sound of blaster fire. The smell of scorched carbon. The sight of distant bursts of fire? All worked to ready the veteran soldier into a frenzy. He certainly had not been born into this life of soldiering, but he had ended a great deal on the battlefield. Now Dantooine was his next battlefield, and was seeming to be a peculiar target for the Death Trooper.

Rexus and his gargantuan associate, the 7’8 war machine, Dergan Twigg moved through the supporting elements of the first column. Although StossCommand had ordered a rerouting from Project RUUSAN related subject capturing, and insisted that the two ALPHAs were to be dispensed to the frontlines and assist New Imperial regulars in their assault. Which meant, regrouping with a separate unit. The New Imperial Naval Commandos. Rexus could sense Twigg’s trepidation and even bitterness at working with a separate unit. They were death incarnate. They were ALPHA, and they were to work with inferiors? Had they not gone through augmentation and surgeries ad nauseum to reach this point? It baffled Twigg.

But Rexus could get it. This was the prize was it not? Sure, Bastion had been some slog for the New Imperial Order, but this was the big fellas place was it not? His home. And home meant a lot to all. Even the dingy brothels and side streets, the grimy taverns and gambling dens of Dosuun, they all had a charm. One which Rexus certainly missed dearly. So to that end, he understood what Tavlar felt, and why he had authorised this operation. This was about heading home. And if the Grand Admiral Rausgeber wanted to avail himself to that, who was Rexus to deny either man?

Rexus could see the man he was slated to meet, easily identifiable by the armour he and his cohorts bore. Rexus nudged Twigg in the ribs with his elbow as they approached. Twigg snuffed out his cigarette, and stomped on it, while Rexus sealed his helm. The in helmet UI began to spark and crackle open, as Rexus approached the commandos sat behind an armoured troop transport.

“You must be Rath,” Rexus rasped coldly, before extending a hand down to the man, “We’re your partners for this op,” Wenck added coolly, “I’m Rommulus, and my friend there is Remus.” Twigg gave a curt nod, beneath a sound that could be construed as a rancors growl, “Hear you and your regulars got bogged down. I suggest we fix that.” Rexus then reached for his rifle, “Me and my friend will take point if you like.”

“But we’ll make sure there’ll be plenty of the whelps for your boys to drop.”