Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Rika Hiro]

OBJECTIVE I
G A R A N G C I T Y
C O M P N O R
Task force AXIS

​

Garang city was an unremarkable city when compared to its peers in the more expansive Sith empire, idyllic yet calm and of little note. A blessing when you weighed in the wars of genocide and of conquest that embraced the galaxy like an ouroboros. Its coils were tightening with each day as entire planets were razed and many more species reduced to a footnote of extinction in some future book.

The Brynadul and their little waltz of destruction, however, weren't relevant. What mattered was the objective at hand, and there were undesirables to extinguish. Sith, Brynadul, CIS. All the same to Agent Yubari. Standard operations could be called house cleaning, but this was pest removal.


Armed with a standard-issue blaster rifle and wearing armour, Agent Yubari and the rest of the COMPNOR operatives followed 1st SOD into the raging chaos of battle that was quickly enveloping the once tranquil skies of Dantooine. Blaster fire and the distant guttural roar of artillery replacing the eerie calm that occupied the air. Deaths own hellish symphony.

Blaster fire met the COMPNOR operatives and they followed in turn, fighting viciously to advance street by street, alley by alley. Occupying a position opposite Agent Harrsk, Asa peeked out of her cover and was met with a streak of blaster fire that peppered the wall she was behind.


"Harrsk, if you cover me and Agent Vostok we will cut around and-."


Agent Yubari trailed cut off mid-sentence as she glanced upwards, being greeted by the welcome sight of support from Tulans men. Red streaks across the sky as the men of demon company came like guardian angels to the foray.

"I suppose that'd make matters simplified, try not to gas out old man," she shouted over towards Harrsk with what could pass for a smirk of some kind or another. Not that she knew how to do much emotion, her model wasn't as sophisticated as the latter HRD models. Still an efficient killer though.


Tags: Vostok Grauv Jaeger Harrsk Tulan Kor​

 

[Gnox the Insatiable]

"Your Chosen are holding the mantle well."

Alone the monstrous being spoke to the shadows. His glowing red eyes stared up to the sky, watching as ship after ship emerged. War had come. And with it, the feast. He stood to his fullest height as he emerged from the darkness, body bulging and expanding into his truly terrible form. In his hand, the terrible three headed flail. He stepped by Sith and soldier alike, unable to be ignored as he towered over all. They were not his to command. No, those he commanded came later. Away from the main army.

The chant, spoken in his own tongue of growls, barks, and howls, echoed across the courtyard as he neared.

Ț̸̼̬͍͕̼͔h̤̭̟͉͙͖͈e̶ ̙̦͈̩̻̗̤f̨i͎̰͔̜r̴̳̜s̮̳̟̱ͅt̵̥̫̟͔ͅ ͔͉̖͙g̞͕̹̣̯̭̲̀i̡̘̜̪̱̹͎͕f͍t͙͉̲̖̤ͅ ͍͚̣͇͟i̗̞̞s͏̠̝͍͎̥̹ ͙͍̤͔̱̱̬͝h̷͙͍̱u̜̟̤̝n͔̼̼͖͟g̝̱̣͓e̲̪r̫͉͉̪̤.͝
͇͇̩I̪͠ṱ̰̞̺ ̟i͎̼̰ş͖͙ ̤̖̟̯͍̰̥His̡͇̝ ̗̜̩̱͉́b̰͖͖͎͚͕̮l͉̜̲̹̪͇͡es̜̮ś̥̟̭͉͎̟͙i̮̲͈͓̠ͅn͕̠͕̱͖̠̟g͏̘̬̫͈.̴͉̦̘
̮͎I҉̱̗̝̦ͅt҉̝̝̭̰̙͈ ̛̪i̹̝͜s͇͘ o͉̞̠̘͖̥u͈̰͉ͅr̵ ̜͞c̶a̯̩l̙̟̩͉̯̰l̼͈̲ t̟̩̱̲̯̗o̜̭͇̲ͅ ̛̠͓b̥͙̕r̨̜̙͚̥̪į̺̯̜n͙͔̺g҉̭͖̳ ̝̰͔̻̭̭d̜e̵à̭͉̫͇̮̺̠th͓̯̜.̜͍̬̲​

The traitors had come, finally. Each lumbering step brought him through the crowd of savage beasts, not unlike himself. Twisted by the dark. They would serve well, or they would become part of the feast. They would break the white shells of these new imperials and devour the soft flesh within.

T̨̟̜he̖̺̹̺̦ ͕͎̰̭͖͍͇͡se̸̘̯̹͖̮̙̝c̮͚͈̖͝o̰͈n̤̺d̳̩̰͡ ͘ǵ̙͉̩̙i̩̻͔͝ͅf͓̣t̻̪̦̹͘ ̵̟̝̭̥ͅi̘̭̫̩s̡̥̮̣ ̳̟͍̣̫̲d͚̝̭̝e̘̣͓̪̠̠̲à̮̘̺t̙̩̩͈͎́ͅͅh̼̮͈͇̯̰.̫͍̙̜͓͚̺
͖́Ḑ͍͙e̸̟̣̖͔̟̮̺a̪̳͕͈͕͈̞t̩̝̞͕͉̜̖͟h̺̺̝ ̞p̛r̛̜̭̤̩o̱͈̣̬̺̝̮v̖̯ḛ̰͘s̸ ̳̟̀o͎̮̝u͈͎͕̺̙̹̫r͖͓̤̙ͅ ͢s̟̳͎t̩̝̠͙͔̖̩r̪e͘n͇̲̭̤̩g̩͎̭th҉͕͓.̯̜
͕̣̞D͏̬͓̹̘e̺͝a̧̰̼t̖̖͕̬̞͎̰͢h p̖͇͓̰̮̠̩u͓̥̮̦̺̦r̛͓͕̱̦ͅg̠̘͖̞̲e̲̯͘s͚̳͎̲̝ o̺̯͖͉͖̠̳ur̡̜̬̗ ̹͔̣͎̼f̧e̝a̡̲͉̮ŕ͎̘ͅ.̵͕̝̬͖​

One by one they rallied behind the largest of them. The strongest. They would follow and kill in his name.

T͎̦͉̺̫̯h̖̲̪̤e̟̭̯̻̣͙ ̳̟̟̳t̩̱̱̠̯͖͉h̕i̟͜r̪͉̳̠͓͉̻͝d̫̕ g͉̪̯̪͔͚͟i̗f̘̗t̤̜̞͍͕̜͜ ̞͇͕̻i͔̝̠͓̦͉̦s͔͉̖̜ ̪̠f̧͚̻͔̯̥͈ͅe̠̱̠̭͙͙̼a̢̳̜r̰̙̫̣̹̯̕.
̻̖̻̺̱̣͘W͟e̠͈͉̯̤͜ ̥̖͉̹̥̠̣f̣̬͈͉͙̕e̤̪͓̠̙a̮ͅr̦̝̤͍̥͚ ̹͓̜̗͈ͅt̫͈̟̲͉h̼͞at͎̗͉̦̬̰ ̪̦̠̺ͅw͎͖͓̟͘ͅe͔ ̺͙̰̳̟͇w̯̲̘̭͍͙͟i͚̪̻l͏̜̤̜ļ̩̹ ̸͓͇f͇͉̫̹̀a̴̻͎i͉̹̝̩͙̫̜l̗̫̕ ͇͖̬̪̙̭h͏͔̮͉̟̣̠̦i̵̱̙͓m͕̲̞̫̭͍.̝̫̪
̪͙̠͇͍͈̣W̡͔͙̫̥e͚̺̝͟ ̵̟̱͔f͏̭̗͍̰̣̮̼e̸̪ͅa̢̖͙̙ṟ̵͈̣̤̲͓̬ ̲͍th̘̠̞ȩ͉̰͉ ͉͢on̨͇ś̹͚͈̲ͅe͚͇͍̟t̯̻͡ ̪͟o͇̭͉f̧̪ ͅh̩̝̩̣̮ͅu̪ng̼̲̠̻e̻r​

Gnox stood by the outer walls of Garang, staring at the approaching Imperial traitors.

"We feast for the Dark One." He raised his flail, pointing the twisted bone hilt towards the feast. Mochirsa tore forward then, clambering over the walls like a wave of rotting flesh, howling and roaring. No order, no rank and file. Chaos. Mindless hunger. Gnox roared himself, the force echoing with that endless, mindless need to eat, then joined the charge.

 

[Shaka Sunstar]

GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
Armor | 2x Lightsaber
Objective II: Sith-Jedi Temple

​

War.

The first he’d actively take part in.

But, in a way, one that he had been a part of the moment he had accepted his Master’s offer to become his Padawan.

Glancing up, Shaka found Ryv standing before the group of assorted Imperials and Jedi. Helmet propped up on his waist, he gave a look around. Had fate not deemed the New Imperials to rekindle the flames of war against the Sith, the men and women that he stood amongst would’ve continued to be his enemies, or so the Galactic Alliance’s politicians would deem them.

On Yinchorr, he had shown how he felt of the growing tensions between their galactic neighbor. Where in another world he could have continued the fight he had with the Knight, in this one he had counseled the Imperial Knight to seek medical attention off of the battlefield. His hand brushed at his belt where he found his own lightsaber, and the sleek Imperial hilt that had once belonged to one of the very same warriors… No… His gaze sweeping the hangar again. The Imperial Force Corps were more bound by loyalty, service, and duty than philosophical ethics and ideologies, like their New Jedi Order counterpart. No, the New Imperial Knight was a soldier. The Alliance he served may not have sent a true military presence like when they had been campaigning on the Braxant Run, but he was glad to be amongst the militant minded Imperial force sensitives all the same.

The Silver Jedi.

There was no hesitation on his part in furrowing his brows, the knot forming towards the centre of his forehead as he slowly shook his head, tightly woven locks lightly swaying with his movements. Of course, Ryv was right. They were misguided. Shaka's mind ventured back to the meeting that Coren Starchaser had called. All sorts of Jedi he had never met, New Jedi, Pilgrims, Wanderers, and even Silver Jedi, all speaking their minds as to the benefit of the supposed Triumvirate. But there were some, he recalled, that were more than misguided.

"Forr anny presennt whoo duzzint feelz az I doo, yoo cann fyndz meez on Dantooine." she said flatly, throwing down the gauntlet with finality as her dark gray gaze filled with resolve.

An outright challenge to ones own Jedi peers to uphold the Silver Concord's political agenda. No one had even acknowledged the challenge, but the memory sparked a twitch in his blade hand, and to hide it, he curled his hand into his helmet and squeezed his digits into his palm, clenching. They rather fight with Sith against other Jedi, than fight the Darkness.

Not fallen... But it was close.

The group dispersed and as he turned to finish his preparations, he caught sight of a familiar face. Weaving through Imperial and Jedi like. He stopped directly in front of Hans Rennagen . "Allies once more." His hand dropped to one of the hilts at his belt, the sleek and practical cylinder coming off easy as he raised it up between them. "Don't give it up so easily this time." His telltale grin spreading across his face before he departed, the Imperial Knight's saber that he had confiscated returned.

​

Azure beam flourished before him, as a storm of plasma flew into the charging mass of Jedi and Imperial alike. Ahead of him somewhere was the Sword of the Jedi. Peering over his shoulder, the standard of the New Jedi Order snapped in the wind. It may have been a New Imperial assault, but the Jedi had the sole goal of retaking their now ancient and desecrated temple.

However long it took, Shaka was sure he was going to plant that standard over the front of the temple.

An explosion rocked through the lines ahead of him, a figure flew. The Force enhanced his moves and he immediately veered off towards the familiar form. For a moment, he was lost in the crowds of oppositely moving soldiers, but the gouged out earth where he had bounced and slid made it easy. Struggling, he reached out to take him by the shoulder, a helping hand to get him back to his feet.

"You're going the wrong way."

Underneath his helmet, a grin was forming and he stepped back once he was sure the Sword was steady. He was more important than any of the Jedi on the field, whether he wanted to accept it or not, didn't matter. In the facet of war? He was the most important link to the New Imperials that the New Jedi Order had. If he fell, maybe not at first, but the strands that bonded the two Force orders would unravel.

He was sure of it.

Another figure pulled out alongside them, Cotan Sar'andor . He was familiar. Shaka was enough of a loner in the New Jedi Order to recognize people and trace to where he knew them from. Despite the looming darkness, they got a brief reprieve as the Sith forces were pushed further away from their immediate position.

"Most definitely." He says in regards to Cotan. Shaka may have been new, but he was intent on fitting himself into the mold and make a home with his fellow Alliance Jedi.

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

"The work begins."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Kalika Vaar
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Xobos Yakieer | Adron Malvern | Freyu Molidias

 

[Frank Sterling]

Heavy boots thundered under the heavyweight they carried as frank made his way off the troop transport. Moments ago when he received his brief He was to report ground side and rendezvous with Maxir Pellian as part of a heavy infantry detachment working in tandem with armor assets. Making his Way threw the security check ins Frank Would be outfitted in His bright Dark red and black Gen 2 armor with a sharkface visor and heavy plating lining the chest legs arms and head, on top on his demal plating impants Frank was a hard to put down cyborg Having three combat missions with Venom squad under his belt already. On his back was a rather large powerpack feeding into a Laser battle rifle while straped to his hip lengthwise was a FL- LWMMG And several 200 round box mags.

after checking in With He keyed his coms " Maxir Pellian , This is Corporal Frank of the CIS Dauntless infantry I was told I would be assisting you whats your ETA from the rendezvous point over?"

 

[Naier Rambeigh]

OOC THREAD
T H E _ W A R _ O F _ D E F I A N C E
B A T T L E_I N_O R B I T
WHO_WILL_SAVE_THE_WORLD

Allies
Okkeus Dainlei | Josiah Navollious | Var Koon | Robogeber

Hostile Combatants
| Sith Vessels |
​

There was a thick, sterile air that burned the insides of Cap- no, Commodore Naier’s lungs. He shook his head, still getting used to the heavier weight of responsibility on his shoulders. No one expected it- least of all himself- that he would, within the short span of a few weeks, be promoted not once, but twice. Of course, the notice was staggered with a few days in between so that it was officially a back to back promotion.

He smoked a cigarette from between his fingers, frowning. He should’ve known better. All of this well wishes, the sudden requisition surplus in his budget. It might as well have arrived in his in-tray in a black folder.

Now the orders he had just received a few minutes ago, from the Admiral himself.

Naier had worked with the man too few times to understand what his beliefs were, beyond what they subscribed to, as officers of the Navy. He wanted to believe that, no matter what had happened to him, it was all in good faith and more importantly, the very best efforts to maintain professionalism.

“Ca-Commodore, sir.”

He looked up. The familiar face of Simone, now a Commander serving as his Xo, was at least a source of relief for him in these troubling, confusing times. She looked like she picked up a few pointers for her confidence too, which was always reassuring. Frankly, he had found her jitteriness to be irritating.

“Status?”

She nodded sombrely, and passed him the tablet. “She runs smooth, sir, for a ship that broke port barely a year ago. Her last CO barely spent a month here before his reassignment.”

“And the crew? Have they taken to the ship well?”

“Mostly. Chief Engineer Hansen’s already identified several kinks in the reactor, including a proposed overhaul on the coolant systems- he says, and I quote, ‘I’ve seen microwaves with tighter circuitry and wiring than this pile of shit’, sir.”

Naier snorted. “So all in all, he’s fine.”

She nodded, a wry smile creeping to the edge of her mouth. “Yes sir.”

“Well I suppose that’s all good then. How’s your family?”

Simone shook her head. From his position on his command chair, she looked like a sad golden retriever. He found it endearing. Marlene called her his ‘stress ball’. “I don’t think they were very happy when I told them I wasn’t going to be home for the holidays.”

“No? Don’t they realize you’ve got an important job to do?”

“I…” her words died out, and she shrugged. If it were not for the bustling activity aboard his new ship, it could have been a dinner side conversation, from one social pariah to another.

“It’s alright. Better to focus on the troubles at hand, than ponder past mistakes.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.” came the quiet reply.

He stood up from his chair and opted to walk around his bridge for the fifth time in the hour, peering over the shoulders of his ensigns and noting the new system he was working with as he made his way to the center deck. “Comms officer, hail Autumn Division now, priority frequency.”

One by one, the holodeck flashed ten times: from left to right, the scarred faces of Commander Carasone and Serena gazed at him with an air of cool confidence. The rest were- younger faces, smoother and less defined. Salskey, Ciroix, Holly, Eric, Grenn, Maia, Ferierre and Jean. All alien, foreign names to him. He silently cursed the Board for not giving him enough time to get used to command before thrusting him into the fires.

He didn’t even have time to conduct fleet exercises. For all he knew, all of them barely had a year’s worth of experience in command between them all, aside from Carasone and Serena.

Then again, he had to remind himself that he did ask for that promotion. Who knew, you had to defend the title you worked so hard to get?

“Autumn Division, we have our orders from the Admiral himself. I won’t waste time mincing words: we are going to plow through their formation and come out alive on the other end. If any of us are still operational by the end of the first run, we’re going to turn around and repeat until either we’re dead, or the enemy has scattered.”

“That’s a lot of ships to plow through sir.” One of the younger faces spoke up. Naier had to pause a few seconds to recall his name.

“Lt. Commander Eric, you interrupt me again and I’ll have you chasing ghost smugglers on the frontier. Yes, damn it, it’s a lot of ships, but we’re not paid to complain about the situation, just to fight and to hopefully win.”

One of them scoffed quietly. Naier chose to ignore the dissenter and carry on. “Assume Verenga formation- corvettes to the front, equidistant spacing for maximum coverage. Stick close to Perchance and Subtlety, we won’t have much cover from starfighters. Valediction will bring the rear, and hopefully the rest of the fleet will follow through.”

“Permission to speak, sir?”

“Go ahead Commander Serena.”

“What happens if we get separated from the rest of the fleet?”

He paused, thinking silently to himself. Ironically, he didn’t have an answer to one of the most asked questions in the academy. He settled for a safe response.

“In that case, Commander, we keep plowing through. Like I said, we die or they do. Understood?”

Ten mouths gave him ten aye ayes of varying confidence levels. He waved them off, and one by one they disappeared off the screen. The Commodore didn’t know if this would be the last time he saw them, but he didn’t have the luxury to dwell on such matters.

“Engines, warm up our reactors. Tell Hansen we’ll be going active any moment.”

“Yes sir!”

“Guns, start cycling through the telemetry data, I want correction shots on the double.”

“Yes sir!”

“Systems warn the whole ship: oxygen-masks across all levels. Mag-boots at the ready. We'll likely have to vent the atmosphere once breaches in the hull start cropping up. I’d like for us to be prepared for the eventuality.”

“Understood sir!”

“Commander Simone?”

“Sir!”

“Calm down, your pacing’s making me nervous. And get me coffee, black.”

There was a noise behind him as Simone tried to hide her pacing belatedly. She choked on her words for a moment before she finally spoke something that he could understand.

“Sugar?”

“Two, please.” Seems like all the bars on her epaulet in the world couldn't get rid of the submissive nature in poor ol' Simone.

---

---

Fleet Roster Composition​

---

---

Autumn Division - 3rd Fleet

Vessel	Description	Status	Commander
NIV Inexorable Valediction of Summer​	- Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, active	Naier Rambeigh​
NIV Perchance to Dream​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, active	Commander Morano Carasonne, [NPC]​
NIV Lack of Subtlety​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, active	Commander Serena Libertam, [NPC]​
NIV Lonely Already​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Salskey Hangzao, [NPC]​
NIV Poor Deliverance​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Ciroix Amende, [NPC]​
NIV Galaxy Bride​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Holly Zabene, [NPC]​
NIV Gargantuan Rooster​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Eric Bentham, [NPC]​
NIV Fraudulent Fighter​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Grenn Elwine, [NPC]​
NIV Antagonizing Result​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Maia DeRusse, [NPC]​
NIV Consolation Prize​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Ferierre Montague, [NPC]​
NIV Pleasant Ambiguity​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Jean Raulos, [NPC]​

---

---

 

[Luna Terrik]

F I R S T - I N​

Location: Dantooine, Garang City, Libra Gold
Time: 1100 Hours
Equipment: Personal XIPHOS armor, BAW-89 Carbine Rifle, Tactical Recon Handgun (2), G-20 Glop Grenade (3), Thermal Detonator (2)
Objective: (1) Establish communications, (2) Create barrier range, (3) Get reinforcements on planet, (4) Push back the attackers.
Tags: | @All CIS Assets in the area | @TSE Allies | @Tags to be added |

Coming here was a bad idea from the very beginning. She knew it. Her superiors knew it. Every officer that she had brought with her knew it. But none of them could have known just how horrible everything would’ve turned the moment the sky started to fall.

Luna and her squads were there as security for the upcoming summit on the oncoming threat of the monsters to the south. At the moment, she still did not have a seat at the table, but was still involved greatly with the security of those traveling from the Confederacy. After the talks had gone so well in their own space, with not so much as a punch being thrown, why they decided to move the next meeting place to the Sith’s space would baffle her the rest of her days. They were only getting closer to the threat they all were coming together to combat, yet it would not be them that blasted the sky on this day.

An imperial threat, one that had loomed large over the heads of the Confederacy for some time now, instead took the place of the monstrous antagonists of this story. Who knew if they were acting alone at this point. All that she did know at this time was that there were enemy assets in the sky, falling to the ground, and some already had boots on the ground within the city itself.

This was not her city. These were not her people. In most situations, she would probably find herself caring little for their wellbeing. But as she was already here, had her men on the ground with her, and goodwill was a currency to be exchanged later on, then she’d show these puny..stormtroopers what her Dauntless could do.

Thankfully, she was not at the summit when the attacks began to be commed in. Instead, both her and the two squads on the ground, Omega and Alpha, were at the Libra Gold outpost taking a much needed break. Granny could only complain so much about missing a meal when strapping their armor back on. The same could be said about the rest of her brothers and sisters. And as they began to work their armor back on and re-equip in the small side barracks they had been provided, Luna began to make her rounds on the comm, attempting to reach any and all CIS assets that would be in the area.

“This is Grand Marshal Luna Terrik. I’ve got both my squads still stationed at the Libra Gold outpost. I need a comm check from every CIS asset that is the ground. If you have subordinates, have them check in as well. We don’t know the extent of the forces on the ground, and the last thing we need is to lose anyone in this mess.” Luna continued to speak into the comms, pacing from side to side on the side of the room, while her squad spoke amongst themselves, chuckling at the absurdity of the whole situation they had been thrown into.

Duo, one of the youngest of the group, was among the loudest speakers, doing so as he checked over the heavy blaster holstered over his shoulder plate. “You know, sometimes I feel like the galaxy has it out for us. For some reason, we never get to have a nice, quiet, easy security detail.” There was some light murmurs of agreement, however most sounds were chuckles, knowing that that sort of thing never happened to this squad. It was Bones, a grizzled hulk of a medic, that responded the quickest to Duo’s plea. “If you were looking for easy, you joined the wrong squad from the very beginning, Duo. Joker learned that the hard way on Balis.”

The silence that overtook the group at the name of their fallen comrade was thick to say the very least. Retaking the prison at Balis-Burg just a few weeks ago had been a kark show from the very beginning. Joker had barely taken a step off the drop ship before earning an E-Web bolt straight through his eye hole. The loss had hit the group hard, a squad that hadn’t lost a teammate in close to a year. And now they were being thrown into yet another combat zone, and the aura surrounding Omega squad’s invincibility had a crack smashed into it.

Now with the lack of speaking, the squad was able to finish up their preparations quickly, just as Luna made her way back over to where they were sitting. Omega’s heads turned to the commander, eager to see just what they would be taking on today. “Alright, lets load up. Alpha is already in the vehicle garage waiting on us. I’m not sure what our defensive target is, but for all I know, it could be this very base. All I know is that we face a force of unknown size, ability, or standing.” There was a light sigh, then a soft chuckle that came from the armored woman. “Such things haven’t stopped us before. We’re Dauntless. Lets show these what that means. First in!”

“Last out!”

 

[Adron Malvern]

ENCLAVE​

Tags: Xobos Yakieer | Freyu Molidias | Shaka Sunstar | Kalika Vaar ​

Earlier That Morning...
​

He had arrived late the night before. In his company he had assembled a small guard squad of competent warriors. He did not care for the soulless droids of The Confederacy that could have their hearts inspired and their minds invigorated. No, he preferred those of flesh and blood who were well within the bounds of the living Force. They were the strings of which the great web was woven by and it was their actions that saw the ever shifting nether of the Force in constant motion. The Exarch had arrived to Dantooine so that he could seek audience with the Dark Lord of the Sith. Darth Prazutis was not a man known for taking appointments with open arms, yet it was the Will of the Vicelord that Adron carried this day. His master and friend, Darth Metus had dispatched him in order to ensure the Sith Empire's faith in their alliance against the monstrous horde remained unshaken. It was as solid as Phrik. He had stated so much in his report to the Vicelord. So why did he not readily return to The Confederacy?

Unfinished business.

The Sith escort led him to the Dark Lord's meditation quarters. When he demanded to speak with the Dark Lord he was not denied his wish, nor did they attempt to dissuade him from the act. No, it was simpler to say they had been expecting the request from the moment he had arrived as part of the Confederate delegation. They led him through the dark halls with a certainty and when finally he was brought before Prazutis he felt a unique hatred within him. The feeling that his actions were being anticipated, perhaps even controlled? He did not let his mind rest on the thought, for the being that towered over him was not someone who he could approach with a scattered mind.

The Sith Lord's words of greeting were met with a hard gaze, yet the King of Illyria did not speak, not yet. Instead he preferred to let the great Sith behemoth speak instead. He was no fool. He knew of the darkness inside of Adron, a darkness that had been bred years ago on the burning planet of Serenno. "You made me what I am." He said. His words were venom and wine, a delicate mix of hatred and respect for what stood before him. If it were not for the Sith Legions that descended upon his homeworld then Adron would never have realized the truths of the Force, never would he have handed himself over to the Dark Side of the Force. So when Prazutis stood before him, claiming he held that which the Exarch sought...well it was bittersweet to be sure.

That datastick. It held within it the information that the Exarch had been searching for, the key to his chains. They were the last piece of a long dead man.

He took it without hesitation. He turned his amethyst eyes to the Dark Lord and understood the gesture. They could not stand together if the King of Illyria wanted the head of the Sith Empire. Tucking the device into a pouch on his belt, the Sith Lord looked to the man who styled himself as Dark Lord of the Sith. He said nothing.

The man turned from the Sith Lord as the Dark Side of the Force began to swell around him. He could feel the anger and anticipation rise within him. Still, its release would have to wait. This day he destroyed the enemies of the Sith Empire. "I cannot stand to be indebted to any man, most especially not you." He said, turning towards the Sith Lord. "My men and I will prepare for battle. The Confederacy will stand beside The Sith Empire." He assured him, before turning into the hall and disappearing into the shadows before him.

Present...
The Sith Enclave​

How amusing. The King mused with closed eyes. He sat in a private room that had been provided for him by the Sith. They had allowed him to venture to the temple before the battle so that he may clear his mind and draw on the Dark Side of the Force. It was so pure here. He had brought his young apprentice, Xobos Yakieer with him as added protection during the battle. Not that he truly needed it, Freyu Molidias had sworn her life to the defense of her King and she would surely rip out the heart of any who attempted to bring him harm. Still, in the moments before battle there was some odd respite that came from the presence of the Mirilukan woman. she was...an unfinished product to say the least. The Sith Lord still believed the woman needed far more training to truly stand among the order of Sith Lords but she was not without promise.

Xobos Yakieer. Deadly, cunning, and most importantly, loyal. She was the right hand of Malphas, forged to destroy his enemies and lay waste to their claims. She was a good apprentice. As for the White Wolf of House Malvern? Freyu Molidias was not an apprentice to the King. It was not his duty nor his pleasure to train the woman. She did not need training. She was a weapon, no different from a lightsaber with a fine design. Just as he wielded his lightsaber, he would wield Freyu to destroy these insurrectionists.

His eyes finally came open. "They have arrived." He said with chilling finality.

He turned to his guardsmen, Freyu Molidias and gave her a knowing look. "You are prepared?" It was more statement than question. Freyu was always prepared. Next, his eyes turned to the woman who sat before him, in a meditative stance matching his own. "I sense the destruction that is to come. You must fully give yourself to the Dark Side if you are to be of use to me in this battle." The King's hand fell to his waist, where he produced his lightsaber. It was an elegantly beautiful weapon with a stunning design of silver and gold. "The power of the Kingsaber will interlink our connection in the Force, perhaps even greater than the Dark Mark upon your arm. You already know the cost." The lightsaber would float up from the Sith's hand, hovering a few inches from the young Sith Knight. The blade between them served as a conduit to their power, amplifying the connection and sending their minds to a place of unity.

There was a cost.

His chest felt weight and heavy. His breathes were no longer nourishing to his lungs. His entire body felt as if it was in a place of perpetual emptiness. This feeling, this pain, it was not something he or his apprentice had ever encountered and with it came a coldness that fell from him. He had detached himself from all manner of positive emotion. Joy and happiness were replaced with sorrow and pain. This was what it meant to wield the Kingsaber in such a manner. Darth Malphas' hand reached out to clasp the weapon, plucking it from it's stasis before he looked to Xobos pointedly. For how horrible he must feel, he knew the young woman was experiencing it two-fold. She had been chosen as the vessel for his will, not it was her time to prove her worth as such.

Standing to his full height, the Sith Lord exhaled softly, gathering his mind to a singular point. The crystal within his blade made this an easy task, something he barely had to focus on. As easy as it was for him, so was it for Xobos. He said nothing more, instead he ventured past his apprentice and out of the room they stood within.

"Fight together. Rely on the Dark Side and you will defeat those you cross." He said, moving into the hall with a certain stride. He could still feel the emptiness in the deepest pit of his chest. He pulled a comm device from his waist. It was not a standard device that came with his station as Exarch, instead it was one that patched him into the Sith lines of communication. He set the network to the same as Darth Prazutis . "Dark Lord, we will remain at your Sith Temple and ensure it does not become the victim of any unpleasant surprises. If you have reinforcements to commit here, now is the time." He spoke, before cutting the comm device and setting it back on his belt. He made his way through the halls until finally they were at the main steps to the Sith temple.

How amusing... He mused once again.

"...That I would stand to defend those show destroyed my home." With a snap-hiss the amethyst blade in his hand came to life. With it, for all those surrounding him came a moment of clarity and focus. It unified those who stood with the Illyrian King and it would surely be the havoc for those who stood against him. The man stood for a moment, his eyes raised to the sky before his lips curled into an amused smile. He was fighting along side the Sith Empire. He let out a bemused laugh before exhaling, giving himself to the Dark Side of the Force. He looked to his apprentice and his Guardian, finding their presence acceptable if he was to do battle.
​

​

​

 

[Mishel Kryze]

​

Admittedly. Mishel didn't think she'd ever get to see the Princess Leia again. The last time she wandered into Sith territory she ended up Darth Carnifex and Taeli Raaf 's pet project for two years, and none of it was fun. By now, the battle was in full swing over Dantooine and it meant some fancy flying would have to suffice to get past the Sith. The void seemed a little too quiet and Mishel looked over to the Selonian pilot, Lav. Who apparently was well treated by the Kingdom of Illyria. "Would you stop with that Baroness nonsense, Lav?" Mishel inquired as she set up the sonic amplifiers. ​

​

The Selonian remarked that he felt obligated to address her by her title.​

​

"Well knock it off, I'm still just Mishel, your smarter-than-average, something." ​

​

Her goal today would be to help out at the former Jedi Temple, now Sith Temple. On a private communique, she reached out to the Sword of the Jedi, Ryv , and relayed the following message. "Coming in high and hot, I've got sonic amplifiers, and bomblet generators where do you want me to hit?" Granted she was only just now punching through the atmosphere, and thus far the Corellian kept the music she brought along within the ship. "Hang on, hang on." She told Lav and flipped through the music tracks, "trying to decide on the original rap-rock or the heavy metal."​

​

"Excuse you, Lav but this is, in fact, a very important decision and I do not like your implications."​

​

Mishel and Lav argued simply because they were flying over a warzone. "Ah, dank farrik, fine! I'll just play the dang thing. Sonic amplifiers online, resonators on, frequency modulators activated." ​

​

The Princess Leia broke through the clouds over Dantoonine making haste toward the Temple. ​

​

Allies: Ryv | Shaka Sunstar | Cotan Sar'andor ​

Opponents: ???​

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​

​

​

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[Vostok Grauv]

OBJECTIVE I

GARANG CITY

COMPNOR

TASK FORCE AXIS

Rifle | Handgun | Sword | Knuckles

​

OPERATIVE STATUS: Nominal
THREAT LEVEL: Significant
OBJECTIVE: Tag & Bag

Theme

Vostok rested his back against the already freckled and peppered exterior of a duracrete wall, the concussive aftershock of bolts resonating within the operative's torso as he checked his weapon, his fingers shrouded in midnight leather as they gracefully yet firmly wrapped around his rifle's grip; stock shouldered, he cautiously leaned out of cover and focused his breathing as his optics swept the background. Contact.

Index finger weighing down on the trigger, Vostok unleashed a concentrated burst that managed to behead an unfortunate Sith Trooper. Their body collapsed hard against the ground as others began to appear, attempting to bolster the fodder already present. "OPFOR's stubborn, but we'll make 'em budge." Vostok spoke calmly into his localized comm channel to his nearby comrades, his voice laced with a certain coldness as if this were a typical situation for him.

"Destroy the zealot, purge the Sith."

With that final statement, Vostok popped out of cover once more, tapping his trigger conservatively and with utmost skill. His body and shoulders shifted like a machine as he demonstrated his refined marksmanship, eventually being struck by a stray streak of crimson, his left shoulder buckled as he returned to a defensive position. His armor managed to take the brunt of the blast, and most of the heat distribution was absorbed by the operative's armorweave jacket.

"Heh. Ruin my threads, will you? I'll ruin your face."

A quiet, amused whisper as a faint grin stretched the corners of Vostok's mouth.

Rika Hiro | Jaeger Harrsk | Tulan Kor

 

[Enlil]

A_R_B_I_T_E_R

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM

Despair, and Atone
​

The world suffered, as all worlds do.

It was the folly of those who held power to forget their duties. Simply holding a world was enough in most cases to satiate the hunger, for it was not benevolence which guided the hands of these Sith to grab the reins of a thousand worlds. The urge to feel elation, to validate oneself with riches and material wealth was a lure that the King knew far too well. The curse of Kings was that they were tempted with each breath that they drew.

A good King looked to his mentors for guidance. He trusted the experience an wisdom of those who lived far longer than he, and he reached out his hands to the people to lift them up out of their suffering. In his age, the King had ordered a tax, a culling of the wealthy to destroy the greed that plagued mankind. Into the hands of the poor he thrust the burden of gold and silver, and he watched as it consumed them. No man, he learned, was immune to the curse.

Some men simply bore the weight better than others.

These Sith, in their thirst for power, cast aside the very humanity that made life precious. He had spoken at length with a Jedi Knight once, about the nature of the Sith and of the Jedi, of the fragile balance between Light and Darkness that shifted chaotically and set the denizens of the Galaxy upon one another. Brother against Brother, Father against Son; and on the broken bones of the fallen, they elevated themselves. The Sith believed themselves likened unto gods.

Together with the New Jedi Order of the Galactic Alliance, the New Imperial Order sought to liberate a world from the hands of the Sith. There was a single gift greater than Liberty that could be given to a people oppressed. The Sovereign Imperator understood this intimately. It was not freedom alone that the people of Dantooine needed. Justice, first, and then, direction. Guidance. Leadership.

The Iron Sun had cast its light down onto Dantooine, and a long shadow now loomed over the Sith Imperials.

​

War was an ugly truth. It was the tool by which Tyrants robbed people of their freedom and Liberators stole back from the undeserving. Unfortunately, war was chaos. It did not favor the righteous or the morally bankrupt. So, as he watched with veiled disgust as the world around him was ravaged by perhaps the most tragic of calamities, Enlil kept his expression carefully guarded. His agreement to partake in any kind of bloodshed came with the condition that victory benefit the people. One of many reasons that he trusted Tavlar in this venture was that the man reached out and gave fair warning before he struck out. He was willing to abandon the element of surprise in order to spare innocent lives.

Tavlar judged lives to be of greater importance than strategic advantages. He had the makings of a great King.

Heat and pressure wracked the world around him as artillery tore apart their position. He watched the New Jedi Order's finest rush headlong into the fray and bat away blasts of superheated plasma, backed by the Imperial Knights in their bloody red armor. He faced adversity unblinking, unwavering, and even as it tossed him and throttled his body across the dirt, he spat in its face.

Enlil glanced to the so-called Sword of the Jedi as he spoke. This man was unlike Caedyn Arenais, the man who had explained the nature of the two Force ideologies to him. Caedyn spoke of defending and preserving life. This man spoke with all of the bitter pragmatism of a veteran soldier. They could not have been any more different.

Covered in grime and wiping dirt from his face, Enlil choked on the smoke that now seeped into his lungs. "Such crude weaponry," he criticized of the Sith as he strode to back the front line with his hand upheld. Heat shifted within the thick plumes that obscured their vision and it twisted, writhed, and shuddered beneath his influence. It began to dissipate as the oxygen fed new flames, and Enlil pointed toward the legionnaires with an accusatory finger. His gauntlet shone a brilliant gold in the firelight. "Allow me to return your gift. It was not to my liking."

Flames licked the armored Sith infantry and blossomed into a vibrant pillar in the middle of their ranks. The King felt sweat bead on his brow as bolts ripped out of their blasters and tore toward him. Hotter than any hell, he could feel the pressure mounting. Unable to maintain the sorcery that mustered and manipulated his flames, Enlil backpedaled and fell behind cover as Imperial Knights moved to defend him.

"Jedi," he raised his voice, "buy me a moment and I will carve you a path."

Allies: Ryv | Auteme | Rurik Fel | Kenth Ordo | Creuat | Zaavik Perl | Loske Treicolt | Hal Vaiken | Cotan Sar'andor | Dorian Sicarrio | Lucien Dooku | Oceiros Sunstrider | Jedi | Imperial Knights

Equipment: Gauntlet , Armor , Sword

​

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Onward to the Temple
Allies: NIO/Jedi Ryv Shaka Sunstar Cotan Sar'andor Loske Treicolt Rurik Fel
Enemies: Sith/Elder Compact T The End Narrator
Equipment: Crossguard Silver Lightsaber, Imperial Knight Battle Armor


Same place, same old predicament, however, what was different was that Kyrel was confident in the months that had passed since becoming a valued Knight following Bastion. He had yearned for another shot at the Sith. Yet except this time, stranger things appeared to have happened. The Jedi themselves were now siding with the Sith. "What is this opposite day?" He questioned aloud to only himself while he remained on the transport. Not trying to remember the fact that they were once again threatened to be blown out of the sky. He then commented. "Why, oh why do we have to always be threatened to be blown out of the sky." He said nervously, as this combat drop must have been his third one? It was hard to even keep count. The Jedi known as Ryv had a nice pep talk for the group. Nothing like a good old fashioned pep talk to prepare you as if this day might honestly be your last.

It was only a few hours after the combat drop, that was when Kyrel really started to feel nervous, artillery shells all around him. It reminded him of the gruesome trench warfare that he had studied regarding the Siege of Mygeeto. Yet nothing compared to almost being sucked out of space. If anything if he was hit with a shell, he could lose maybe one or all his limbs. It wouldn't stop the Knight from trying to fulfill his duty. Accompanying the Jedi, the way he saw it. It would be an interesting experience for Jedi and Imperials to work together, although it has been done before. This time he was surprised to see such a group willing to turn against their comrades just to help a nation that for all intents and purposes were in a cold war against. As he followed behind closely with Ryv, the Thrysian Jedi, and the woman that made up the Jedi part of the strike team. He was surprised to hear such vulgarity come from Ryv's lips or the bloodthirst that came across his words. Speaking aloud now to the group while they all eyed a place of once serene beauty among the plains, now a marker of despair and opposition for all. "Are all Jedi normally this vulgar and hunger for battle, or is that just this group?" He said with a roll of his eyes.

The stories he read about Jedi were different than the behavior that was shown here. Normally he thought Jedi would show more restraint than to be so eager for battle. He surmised that it was why the Imperials were better than Jedi, not only had they have a group of eager crusaders of which were enemies. Now they were fighting against themselves. Such things did little to break the resolve that Imperial Knights were far superior to their Jedi cousins. But at this rate, he couldn't complain as they kept tracking close to the Temple. Artillery shells around them. He as a Knight would help the group at all possible, as per the norm. Even if it all would cost his life. Following closely behind the group, a hand reached for the Crossguard saber on his belt, as if touching the saber during these times seemed to bring a sense of luck. He surely thought so especially after being sucked into space at Bastion, if it wasn't for the Imp Knight Battle Armor he wore now. He would have been long dead.

Wandering closer with the group, he spoke not caring if they listened or not. "Discipline my sword, duty my shield. None will stand against the might of the Iron Sun." He spoke lines that were championed for the Imperial Knights. They would do what was expected of them, even if it means he should die here now, for he had one vicious intent in his mind. One that was kept tucked away and that was to cleanse the temple and bring an end to the Sith, and if he was lucky any Jedi who had the stones to challenge him.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Equipment​

Armor Taralraiskaz Battle Plate Helm of Malignant Anima Fist of Moridin the Great Weapons Derriphan the Devourer Other Empyrean Gland

Jutting out from the wild prairies of Dantooine stood an edifice to the Dark Side, sharp angular walls meeting at a flat truncated point which was visible from the surrounding bluffs and hills. Once it had been a Jedi Temple, dedicated to learning the tranquility of the Light Side of the Force amidst idyllic conditions, learning to become one with nature and coexist in perfect harmony.​

​

That had long since been twisted by the Sith, the temple now standing in direct opposition to the environment that surrounded it. No animals ventured near the temple, and what grew was unsuitable for digestion. A wide paved road crisscrossed the hills surrounding the temple's perimeter, leading out and away to the nearby settlements which dotted the heavily farmed landscape.​

​

Though the Sith ruled Dantooine, they had not left their mark on the world like they had others. There were no city-sized factories churning up the earth, breaking apart raw material to fuel their war machine. Instead, Dantooine's vast wilds had been converted into ample farmland to feed the growing Empire during its early years, before they had pushed further towards Dromund Kaas and the other Sith worlds. Despite having lost its prominence as the Empire's premier agriworld in recent years, Dantooine still supplied the Empire with a bountiful harvest every season.​

​

And recent tidings had only increased the Empire's presence on the world, as the military garrison was expanded to accommodate the rapid influx of soldiers and war ordnance that precluded the New Imperial Order's assault on the system.​

​

The Sith did not stand alone on the plains of Dantooine either, for they had made controversial pacts with other galactic powers in the name of law and order.​

​

Standing alongside the scarlet banner of the Sith Eternal was the blocky cog of the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the stylized winged lightsaber of the Silver Jedi Concord. Strange bedfellows, often at odds with one another, brought together to face a threat that could upend the balance of the entire galaxy. Not the New Imperial Order, but the Bryn'adûl, which had recently carved out vast swaths of territory across Hutt space. They had even pushed the Silver Jedi and the Sith back on multiple fronts. Driven beyond mere conquest, the Bryn'adûl cleansed every world that came under their control, driving the native inhabitants into extinction. ​

​

This was a threat beyond the age-old rivalry of the Jedi and the Sith, it was a threat to the existence of the galaxy as they knew it. Stand together or fight among one another, the Bryn'adûl would come for them regardless.​

​

Though this pact only extended to a united front against the Bryn'adûl, all sides found themselves banding together to defend one another from those who could destabilize the tenuous union of powers. This is why when the New Imperial Order came again to gnaw at the edges of the Sith Empire, the Confederacy and Concord were there with them. Not in their entireties, the decision to shake hands with the Sith was far too much for some to stomach, but there were enough there to stand alongside the Sith on the plains of Dantooine.​

​

Perhaps chief among them was Thurion Heavenshield , once Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi, and the near-mythical Golden Lion of Midvinter. ​

​

Standing beside him, in the twilit gloom of the Sith Temple, was Darth Carnifex. Once the Dark Lord and Emperor of the Sith Empire, Carnifex had abdicated his position in favor of his great-uncle Darth Prazutis and his favored daughter Joycelyn Zambrano , who had assumed the mantles of Dark Lord and Empress respectively. They ruled jointly as the Sith Dyarchy, the powers wielded by Carnifex now hewn in twain and divided amongst them. ​

​

Carnifex sat in silence, legs crossed over one another, his eyes closed shut in concentration. For days leading up to the New Imperial Order's incursion, he had reached out through the Force, using the guile he had accrued over the many decades to influence the dreams of one who stood among their number. Though he was not an Imperial, he was of interest to the former Dark Lord regardless.​

​

Oceiros Sunstrider , cousin to the famed Arcanus Sunstrider. ​

​

Carnifex had taken Arcanus' life many years before, striking him down after a pitched duel between the two of them. Though Arcanus' body had become one with the Force he left behind his lightsaber in death, Calesvol. The once-Emperor collected the lightsaber as a trophy, proof of his victory over the Jedi Master. Now that same lightsaber sat inert on the floor in front of him, the Emperor's own weapon, Derriphan, hovering in the air a meter away from him.​

​

For a time there was absolute silence, little words traded between the arch-rivals of the Light and the Dark.​

​

Then Carnifex spoke.​

​

"They are coming," demonic eyes opening to stare directly at the High King, "They will come to us, I have foreseen it." He thought it amusingly strange and ironic that the two of them would be collaborating in such a manner, though for Carnifex it affected him far less than he suspected it affected Thurion. The once-Emperor was used to shifting alliances, he had grown quite pragmatic in that regard. It paid him no mind to temporarily align one's self with the Jedi to achieve a goal that was beneficial to himself.​

​

The Jedi?​

​

They were surprisingly uncompromising at times, mired in the duality of their respective orders and the vitriol which pervaded their rivalry.​

​

"I hope that your appetite for battle has not eluded you, Thurion. I would hate to see you falter after all this time."​

​

Rurik Fel ​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective I: Defend Garang City
On the City Streets
--------------------------------------
Tags: Gnox the Insatiable / Joycelyn Zambrano / Frank Sterling / Luna Terrik (By the way it is my first time in an invasion so I apologize for the inconvenience)
---

Some masses of civilians in Garang City were still out in the streets as enemy ships began to fill the skies. Thankfully, the forces of the Sith Empire and their allies held an advantage that their enemies, for the most part anyway, lacked. The citizens of Garang weren't about to be strafed and assaulted by the enemy from the air, not yet at least. They sought to 'liberate' the proud citizens of the Sith Empire on Dantooine.

An error in judgement; one made out of false assumptions.

Today Garang would prove that it needed no liberation from those who would despoil the Sith Empire's worlds.

---

"Pull back deeper into your city and into your bunkers, let these heathens bleed themselves against our mighty fortifications!" Alisteri was far from the best with people, but given the fact that he could spot the enemy invading as he spoke; he could use a bit of whatever charm he had. Rather than being on the frontlines or in the rear and waiting for the inevitable assault, the young apprentice had been stationed somewhere in the middle to help guide citizens away from the initial fight as well as clear a path for any reinforcements for the walls.

In reality he was little more than a visual aide for the people as they retreated to safety, a reminder that they were in the care of the Sith Empire and as such would be well protected.

There were actual forces and departments that were handling the citizens far more effectively than he could after all. He was just there for show and as a bit of back up in case the civilians needed extra defense.

His gaze turned back to the sky as it continued to fill with ships, his right hand coming to rest on the lightsaber on his hip. If he was honest, he would much prefer to be throwing the enemy from the walls of the city rather than making sure no children or elderly were left behind in the chaos. Still, he was tasked to protect the city and help to keep the population safe, and he would do that with no fuss.

Although he was a bit disappointed that he might not get the chance to test his skills against any Jedi this day.

His cybernetic eye zoomed as far it could, allowing him a slightly better look at the incoming ships as they readied to land and depart their hordes of defilers. The thought sickened him that such people could disrespect and despoil the Sith and still call themselves an "Empire." At least he got to see them die for their hubris and arrogance.

We would make them pay the price for such things.

Plenty of them would be cut down today, although Alisteri doubted that he would get to play that big of a part in the proper fighting. It was unfortunate, but he had a job to do regardless.

Besides, with any luck he would get the chance to slay some heathens that wandered too far into the city.

 

[Taiia Mataan]

​

​

Location: Libra Gold, Garang City​

Equipment: Lightsaber​

Tag: Luna Terrik | Darth Prazutis | Lia Stilben | Open​

Allies: CIS | TSE​

Enemies: NIO | GA/NJO (If Attacked)​

Post #: 1​

​

Dantooine was a world with a complex history, much like any planet in a galaxy it had seen perpetual warfare with only fleeting moments of peace. In any normal situation, she would welcome the time to walk the planet's surface and to study it in detail, regretfully there would be no such luxurious stroll this day. Today Dantooine fell under the banner of the Sith Empire and she was here to ensure the safety of the Grand Marshal Luna Terrik as well as the Confederate delegation as a whole. Today was a day of hopeful peace, to ensure that the galaxy would be able to contain and drive back the growing threat in the galactic east that was the Bryn'adul.​

​

At least that was the intention at its outset. The red-haired woman stood outside the garrison, as to not be a readily visible presence, she was here not as an overt protector but as one on the sidelines should the worst come to pass, if the peace between Confederate and Sith broke. There was an unease in the air, most would not need to be a force user to feel it but to those that were, it was all the more. Turning her eyes up toward the sky she felt out through the force, something was wrong however as of yet she did not know what. Until the Grand Marshal’s force came over her comm.​

​

“This is Grand Marshal Luna Terrik. I’ve got both my squads still stationed at the Libra Gold outpost. I need a comm check from every CIS asset that is the ground. If you have subordinates, have them check in as well. We don’t know the extent of the forces on the ground, and the last thing we need is to lose anyone in this mess.”

​

Letting out a heavy sight Taiia reached for her lightsaber as the first few streaks of light broke through the atmosphere announcing the arrival of their adversaries, she activated her comm immediately.​

​

“Grand Marshal, this is Master Mataan. I have a visual on enemy assets entering the atmosphere. Currently at a position on the perimeter of Libra Gold. I am at your disposal, though unless I am needed elsewhere I am en route to you” she turned sharply decoupling her lightsaber allowing the staff to become to separate hilts, she began the trip back to the central building where the bulk of they’re forces were located at, both blades ignited with the signature snap followed by the soft hum of the blades, their silver light bathing the ground around her, she would not apologize for being prepared.​

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[Hans Rennagen]

Allies: Imperial Knights, New Jedi Order
Enemies: Sith, Silver Jedi, Confederates
Equipment: Lightsaber, Shield, Imperial Knight Armour
Judgement has begun

New Imperial Crusader Fleet, Sometime prior to the attack on Dantooine​

Hans sat alone in the darkness of his small quarters. Nothing but a bed, a table, and a miniscule closet meant for the few outfits he owned. He wore his standard issue sleepwear as he sat cross-legged before the table, where the pieces of a lightsaber rested scattered.

In front of his closed eyes a crystal as clear as glass levitated with the aid of the force, ever so faintly glowing a soft white. The process of synthesizing a lightsaber crystal was stressful, one wrong step and you were back at square one. But Hans, and every knight, knew that it was a symbolic task. The creation of a pure crystal of neither light nor dark, to be wielded by a pure warrior.

The war was coming again, as Hans had hoped.

The blade he was in the midst of making would guide him on his warpath against the Sith. And just as it was his weapon, he was the weapon of the New Empire.

NIV Dissident Aggressor, a few hours before the attack.​

Dantooine, another breadbasket of the Sith Empire. The world of rolling hills and fields of wheat reminded him of home. He knew it was best not to think about Raxus, or what the Bryn’adul might be doing to it. The job today was fighting the Sith, so that tomorrow he might be able to return to his home and right all the wrongs inflicted upon his people by the many tyrants who had enslaved them.

He stood aboard the flagship of the man he had pledged his life to. Surrounded by the other knights he called his brothers-in-arms, they listened to the briefing. The plan for how they were going to liberate another man’s home: Irveric Tavlar, their Imperator.

The briefing was led by a Jedi of all people, a surprise to many a knight but not an unwelcome one. After the Alliance broke ties with the New Imperials, It was refreshing to see Jedi fighting at the side of the Order. Jedi who remembered what they stood for.

When the briefing concluded, Hans was approached by a familiar face. The Jedi he had fought on Yinchorr. ‘A ghost from the past coming to haunt him so soon?’ he thought, remembering the pain of a lightsaber striking his arm. Even with plenty of bacta to heal his burn he was left with a scar. However, his initial fears were misguided. Hans was caught completely by surprise when the Jedi handed him his lightsaber, the one he’d surrendered at the end of their duel. The Jedi spoke few words and was gone before Hans could muster a thank you.
In truth he didn’t quite understand the Jedi’s gesture. The Knights taught that a lightsaber was a tool. He had never imagined he’d see the saber again, and he had simply built himself another.

Still confused, yet grateful, he clipped the returned lightsaber to his belt. The two hilts hanging at his side looked almost identical, save for the slight wear on the older of the two.

The Sith Temple, Dantooine
​

The bombs fell like rain upon the battlefield, all around the Sith Temple that stood imposingly before them. The golden fields of this world had turned to ash within a few hours of the New Imperial arrival. Every Imperial Knight and every stormtrooper who stood on guard behind the Lord Executor knew the Sith would die for this place, and they would be the ones to ensure it. These men and women were the elite soldiers of the New Empire, who would serve with distinction in both life and death. Hans was proud to be a part of their ranks.

They all steeled themselves before the impending charge, knowing they might not return but would die challenging the ancient enemy of the galaxy.

"Knights! Forward! For the Empire!"

The Lord Executor’s warcry washed over them, instilling them with a righteous fervor and the knowledge that they were about to make history in one way or another...

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

Equipment

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian
Voice Sample

Forces

120x Reforged
2x Karza'Arana Darksworn

Prelude......

Newly elevated to the position of Paragon of Knowledge the Shaper stood calmly amid the Sith temple, once an ancient Jedi enclave, as he looked down to the holo-display that had, before news of the impending invasion, been utilized for naught but training exercises. Acting as a make-shift command post in the heart of this ancient place, what had once been, in eons past, the council chambers to a group of Jedi. Nevertheless that fetid history would remain as such, history, and as this could be seen as his first foray into his new role the Shaper had been assigned to not only test his abilities at commanding forces as even a scholar among the Sith must be an able leader. More than that he had an interest in the crystalline caves that the Sith temple connected to. Supplying the Empire and it's many acolytes, apprentices and even Lords with focuses for their lightsabers.

In truth, the Shaper had taken on much responsibility in his involvement here. Overseeing what had been a military exercise, now a defense force, while seeking to test the value of these 'Reforged' that Darth Prospero had put his brilliant mind to. A small part of Shaper recognizing that his desire to test the mettle of these troops was also to see the handiwork of another greatly skilled individual such as Prospero. He could respect his skill, his ingenuity, if not the man himself. Though this was far from his only purpose here. At the Shaper's side stood two more of Prospero's creations. 'Darksworn' he called them. How dramatic if not entirely apt for their zealous skill and devotion. These too the Shaper would test in his direction of the Enclave's defenses, though they were far, FAR from the most crucial asset he had brought with him to Dantooine. The honor went solely to the Chained God, the Infernal One, Other Space Kaiden himself.

Present......

The Shaper's gaze split as the Whilstone of Acuity drew his sight along with the once-Emperor's to the approaching Imperials. Saving him much energy in simply joining with Carnifex's masterful sense while the Shaper kept a stark eye solely on the chained giant, the desire for his death radiating off of the powerful Graug like a tangible aura that only made the Shaper smile. A show of emotion and measured control as he began to direct the Reforged into position among the Enclave. Establishing defensive choke-points where possible and deploying Reforged snipers on any hidden vantage points offered by the Temple itself. In more tightly packed corridors the Reforged were separated into fire-teams meant to rip apart the encroaching squadrons. Supplemented with flamethrowers and hand-held torpedo launchers the Shaper would turn to Vulcanus with a cool, hard gaze. "Though I know I am echoing the words of the Dark Lord. But these traitors stop here. They have bled the vision of the Sith too much, and now jeopardize the galaxy with their short-sighted foolishness. I can feel your hatred, Vulcanus, and while you may wish to rip me limb from limb there is more plentiful quarry among our enemies."

The Shaper turned and, mentally influencing the chain that bound Vulcanus to pull him toward the entrance to the crystal caves that run under the surface of Dantooine, he ordered. "Let your hatred be tempered with blood and revel, the caves of this world should carry you beyond our foes, let you rip into them from the flanks, the back, their exposed jugular in a sense." A small smirk graced the Shaper's lips as he turned, to face Vulcanus again. "And should they think to use the caves themselves, then you will find plenty of prey there, among the dark." Without another word did the Shaper walk past Vulcanus, the two Darksworn at his flanks as he walked through the secure interior of the Enclave, down to the room the once-Emperor and King of Midvinter occupied. He did, of course, alert them to his presence with an expression of the Force before entering. "Pardon me, gentlemen. The Temple is secured, as much as it can be with Darth Prospero's creations. Lord Vulcanus has been dispatched to the caves below to either flank our enemies outright or, should they journey into the depths of Dantooine themselves, be found... wanting there against the Chained God."

The Shaper's gaze briefly met that of Thurion and he could feel the disdain emanating from the good King. As if he were being forced to endure living through some bad dream. The Shaper would incline his head ever so slightly to Midvinter's King and remark casually after Carnifex spoke. "And should you find your situation gnawing at your mind, simply remember that which awaits you once you return to the Concord. Vile creatures that wouldn't show you anything approaching the hospitality we have." There was something there in the Shaper's voice, something more than the informal casual demeanor, something only just punctuating the ends of his words, only just tugging at the corners of his lips as he regarded Midvinter's King, but with only a bow of respect to Carnifex did the Paragon of Knowledge turn and leave them to their company. Intent on returning to the direction of the Sith Enclave's defenses.

Allies: Darth Carnifex Thurion Heavenshield Ruek Tast Iasha Rha Adron Malvern Xobos Yakieer Freyu Molidias
Enemies: Detritus Ren Ryv Shaka Sunstar Cotan Sar'andor Loske Treicolt Rurik Fel Hans Rennagen

 

[Xobos Yakieer]

Location: Dantooine, Sith Temple
Equipment: Illyrian Knight Armor, Knight Saberstaff, Miralukan Eye Mask
Mental state: Awaken.
Tags: | Kalika Vaar | Shaka Sunstar | Adron Malvern | Freyu Molidias |

It had been so very long since her boots had touched a world outside of the home soil of her providence. Illyria was her place of rest, her place of meditation. Her people resided there, and the planet had become her adoptive home. Ever since the King had returned to his throne, and she had been knighted under that banner, trips off the world had been rare and far between. Only twice in the past few months had she left the planet.

Once, to the planet of Zeltros, to take time away from the rigorous of the aristocracy life had brought with them. It was there that she had gone to the circus that night with her pink companion, and instead of finding the relaxing and joyous night she expected to had, the apprentice had left with a follower of her own in the form of the Jester. Eventually the changeling would amount to much, but for now, there was no safer place in the galaxy than staying back at the manor in Garde Noire.

The other time was a much different type of trip. One of the first tasks that had been given to her after taking over the providence was to clear out a pack of Maalraas in one of the mines. Without doing so, she had a threat hanging over her head of her entire mining population moving to the next town over. It was a straightforward enough task, or at least, seemed that way in the beginning. In reality, entering into that cave would earn Xobos a title that followed her to this day.

What lead the pack of Maalraas a massive beast with a curiously strong connection to the force. A Great Maalraas, towering over the other beasts in the cave, had tried to break the apprentice’s mind for daring to enter into her domain. Unfortunately for the beast, however, there was not many things in this life that mentally break the apprentice after years and years of living with her the voices in her own mind, and the mind break was turned upon the beast, known only as Sabatora.

The fate of a sith lady by the same name drew Xobos off the Illyria for the second time, this time to the planet of Shola. What would follow would mold and shape the Miraluka from that point on, and she would walk off the world not named an apprentice any longer. But a sith knight, one earned through the blood and dust of the former lady of Sabatora.

Yet the Great Maalraas stayed around, and had become a close companion of the Sith Knight, now harboring the nickname the Mistress of Shadowcats. Even now, on this strange planet in this even odder temple, the scaley beast hugged close to her leg, rising almost to just underneath her shoulder from it’s laid out position next to her mediative one. Idly, her hand ran along the scales of it’s back, awaiting the enemy they all knew was coming. The stage had been set, and now all they waited on was the other players.

Xobos did not need her vision to know the hilt of the blade that had lifted between herself and her master. Whatever her master had done to that blade, it oozed with the dark side of the force, as if he had imbued it with the very marks that sat upon both of her forearms. Certainly a curious thing, something that the Miraluka wanted to study immeasurably.

That was assuming that they survived the day.

A presence began to linger on her mind as the man spoke. It grew with each passing moment, growing stronger and more powerful as it’s weight came that harder upon her mind, the barriers risen around it, and the mental fortitude she had built since the voices had gone silent. Her forearms continued to burn, and by the time they were finished, it was necessary for her to flex and clench her fists over and over again to alleviate the pain that shocked through them. But not necessarily alleviate in terms of forcing the pain from her body, but instead, to spread throughout. Xobos’ body fed upon the pain, the weight, and a sense of rejuvenation followed along with it. Not matter what would coming to this temple, she would find herself ready to face it.

“Hello again, my sith Knight.”

The voice that echoed through her mind elected a deep sigh to be pressed through the Miraluka’s nose. Whatever the King had done, he had pressed hard enough on the mental barriers her mind had erected to allow a sliver of whatever the voices had become slide through. She could feel Amboragos burying itself into her mind, but not with the same malicious intent that had once been there. Instead, with was soothing, calming, much like the feeling of feeding on her own pain. “I suppose it was time for you to speak with me once again, Amboragos.”

There was no response this time, thought Xobos might not have focused on it. Her master had stood, starting toward the edge of the temple’s steps. She would soon join him, as would Sabatora to her side. Turning to look at the massive bodyguard that had accompanied them both, the Knight gave her companion a genuine nod of approval. Today, for the first time, they would fight side by side. Today, for the first time tin a very long time, she would fight with the voices once again. Today..

She would fight as a Knight.

 

[Starlin Rand]

​

Location: The Enclave archives
Objective: Fight alongside the Sith like a chump/Pilfer artifacts on the side
Gear: Starlin Rand's lightsaber | Mt. Muspelheim Shoto | Upgraded Fenelar Armor (very soft approval, I hastily whipped up that sub last night after remembering that his armor was damaged last week, the sub is mostly done, I will take hits so don't worry)
Writing With: Cotan Sar'andor

Hours before the invasion, Starlin had received a comm call from Jacen Nimdok . After a few preliminary questions regarding the Padawan’s health and plans for Dantooine, as well as some good-natured mockery over his having sided with the Sith, the professor inevitably asked about artifacts.

“I know it’s gonna be a warzone down there, but if you can get to the Temple and into the archives… It doesn’t have to be anything huge, I mean, whatever you can get, I’ll be happy just to see it saved.”

“Sure thing, professor,” Starlin replied with a smirk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Now the boy found himself standing in the hallowed/tainted halls of the Dantooine Temple, having made his way across the soon-to-be-devastated battlegrounds prior to the beginning of the fighting itself. Scratching his head, he looked up at the walls and fixtures, then asked, “This isn’t the Jedi Enclave, right? The one from thousands of years ago that got blown up.”

His Omnilink informed him that the Enclave had indeed been blown up, and never truly rebuilt. This Temple was a much more recent construction. Starlin sighed. So much for connecting with his heritage. Well, alleged heritage, anyway, and even then the supposed relation was kinda flimsy. Not to mention that it had been so long since they were alive, probably everyone and their mother was related to them by now, so it didn’t make Starlin special. Still, he took some inspiration for his siding with the Sith in this conflict from the plight faced by his ancestors during the Mandalorian Wars, when the Jedi Order sat on their hands and tried to pretend the Mandalorians weren’t slaughtering people by the millions. Hey, shouldn’t it really be billions? Trillions, even? How do casualties work in Star Wars?...

Anyway, Starlin siding with the Sith had absolutely nothing to do with his naïve inability to take the Sith seriously. Just because he had a natural affinity for Force Light and had already used it to cleanse many a Dark Side coven during his training under Syd Celsius didn’t mean he thought he could take on the entirety of TSE with a good joke and enough breath in his lungs to sustain a laughing fit. Nope, no way, not at all. Nor did it have anything to do with him blindly following along with his master, who herself was trailing after her angry girlfriend Laertia Io , who was currently going through an identity crisis.

Nah man, the Bryn were Starlin’s chosen enemy, and he was going to focus on fighting them, even if he wound up with worse than sore legs for a few weeks afterwards.

Slipping past the handful of scattered guards left protecting the archives, Starlin rubbed his hands together. He had an extra large duffel bag slung over his shoulder and plenty of time to snag some historically significant goodies. For now, anyway.

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

​

Location: Dantooine Orbit, Thunderstruck, patrol check of the fleet
Allies: Var Koon | Josiah Navollius | Naier Rambeigh | Robogeber
Enemies: The Sith, CIS, SJO supporters of the Elder Council
Theme: I Walk Alone - Jorn

So this is what had become of the galaxy. His X-Wing glided alongside the TIE Outlanders, getting ready enjoy some of his former brothers and sisters. They had chose to side with the Sith, which made them his enemy.

Ever since the formation of the Elder Council many of the Jedi questioned the actions of the Masters, and even the Grandmaster himself. Yet the alliance has stayed strong with no sign of dying. So the Jedi tool matters into their own hands.

Many have come to the New Imperial Order’s aid in the invasion of Dantooine. Those who came believe in fighting the Sith, bringing peace to the galaxy. All others who came supported the treachery of the Sith and their allies. They shall be punished for their blindness to what is truly happening.

Trillions of lives have been lost to the monstrosity of the Sith. And yet some of my Silver Jedi brothers and sisters think that it is okay to support them when they need to be defended? Does the Concord stop for a moment, realizing what mistakes they have made?

No. They have never once done this.

Now a stop must be put to this. Sith have been conquering too much of the galaxy for too long. With the help of the New Imperial Order, and the Silver Jedi who have seen through the corruption of the Concord, we can defeat the Sith once and for all.

Looking towards his left he saw the NIV Tregessar slowly moving its way through space. His patrol squadron, two TIE Outlanders towards either side, Flying V formation, followed his has the Thunderstuck flew over the center of the ship.

The blue lights being emitted from the bridge reflected off of his viewport. Black paint now had a slight shine to it, lighting up the rest of the X-Wing. Looking to his left, and then his right, he noted how good the wings looked with their new upgraded tech. In fact, almost all of the ship had been updated. Thank to the New Imperial Order, the Thunderstuck was in perfect condition for fighting.

Because there was going to be a lot of it.

With a flick of a switch the comms blinked to life. Extending the signal out to the four TIEs he addressed them.

“Alright y’all, I haven’t know you for the most amount of time, but I know this: This day will go down in history as the day the Sith found their place. No longer will the galaxy fear them, but they can now live in peace knowing the Sith can be beaten. So fly your hearts out today men.”

With replies of acknowledgement back he switched over the comms to a direct signal for the NIV Tregessar. He wanted to speak to the bridge.

“NIV Tregessar, this is Flight Commander Dainlei reporting in. The men and I talked, and we will be flying under a new squadron name, rather than Strike Squadron.”

“Flight Commander Dainlei, what are you assigning your squadron’s name then? Report back.”

“Today we will be flying under Youth Squadron.”

“Flight Commander Dainlei, may I ask why you have chosen this name? Report back.”

Quickly shutting off his comms he let out a small laugh. The name meant so much more than just him and his squadron’s young age. With the laughing over he turned back on the comms.

“We have chosen Youth Squadron because while Elders may have more knowledge, Youths have more power.”

 

[Runi Verin]

LOCATION: SAFE HOUSE NEAR THE SITH ENCLAVE
OBJECTIVE: STEAL SOME DUDE’S OSIK
GEAR: Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Terentatek Duster, Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl
ALLIES: Amea Virou
ENEMIES: Adrian Vandiir | TSE
FOLKS MESSING UP A PERFECTLY GOOD HEIST: NIO | GA | ETC

“Fierfek,” The Warden let out with a bitter hiss, jaw knotting as she continued to study the pirated readout displayed on the datapad before her. The feed was fragmented, incomplete and still rife with whatever propaganda the Empire was spinning to calm its citizens of the impending crisis, but she had been around long enough to read between the proverbial lines. After lingering for weeks on the distant horizon, it seemed the storm clouds of war had finally reached Dantooine.

Not the first time the planet had seen battle.

Kark, she remembered taking the planet so many years ago - a lifetime ago - with the first Mandalorian Empire herself. Barely old enough to hold her osik together, she had been a kid flying by the seat of their pants back then, still troubled by the prospect of getting blood on her hands. Still clinging to the broken remnants of Jacaro Verin’s idealism...

The datapad gave a squawk of electronic protest as one of those very same hands tightened reflexively at the unwanted memories, the crushgaunt grip of her cybernetic arm mercilessly cracking the duraplast casing and sending a cascading spider web of fault lines across the screen. So much had changed since then, and not just for the planet.

“Sorry,” Runi intoned absently and without any real meaning behind the words, carelessly casting datapad onto the makeshift bench that had served as their central hub for the last few weeks with an irritated clatter that fitted her growing mood completely. Six weeks of careful planning, scoping and more than a few well placed bribes had gone up in smoke in a matter of hours. An altogether (seemingly) perfectly planned heist ruined just because some Imperial War Dog couldn’t keep it in his pants.

She clicked her tongue, casting a glance at her companion, a woman that was both familiar and a stranger all at once. The closest she had come to calling someone a friend at one point. Bonded through sacrifice, blood and accidental applications of more than one type of force. Now…

The Kiffar didn’t even know how to explain the shift that had occurred in the other woman. She was colder, for certain. More ruthless. Pragmatic with a side of brutal efficiency. Qualities Runi would have ordinarily respected, even admired in an ally, but seemed so strange and foreign coming from someone that had been so soft and tender hearted a handful of years ago. As if she had been hollowed out.

“The Enclave is going to be on lockdown now, with every dar’jetii motherkarker from here to Korriban rolling in to protect their shiny baubles.” Verin murmured with a shake of her head, pushing down the unsettled feelings Amea Virou now inspired. The demeanor and methods might have changed, but she was still one of a handful of people the Warden of the Sky trusted. At least until she proved her otherwise. Those scarred lips puckered slightly as she moved towards the battered trunk of equipment they had squirreled into the city, utilising what few contacts Runi had maintained through Stellarwind’s… less than legitimate business ventures. “Still, I dunno about you, but I didn’t come all this way just to walk away empty handed, ‘lek?”

The keypad beeped as she punched in a rapid sequence, all but yanking the lid open to reveal the bundle of gear she had stored there in case things went a little sideways, of which an invasion of colossal magnitude certainly qualified. The rough notes of her Kol Atorn accent seemingly becoming more pronounced as her gaze settled on the battered looking scattergun that took pride of place within the trunk. Like her, it was no stranger to all out war on the galactic agricultural basket. Another old and trusted friend. “Looks like we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way, tayli'bac?”