Dominion Onward | Dominion of Ord Thoden | NIO

[Dorin Nalju]

C O U N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD THODEN
Boram Predor

To truly understand statecraft better, Dorin found it necessary to learn and observe from those with power in the rising Empire of the New Imperial Order. Moffs and Warlords alike, understand the latter were usually more autonomous and operated slightly more independently than their Moff counterparts.

Luckily from help of Lucien Dooku, the Warlord of Niruan, he managed to use that as a reference to tag along with Moff Predor. A man that was far too old for his age with the little color on his skin. From what he understood they were to meet with a delegation of criminals with a legitimate business as a facade for their rather illicit activities.

“Moff Predor, if I may,” the young Serennian Count began to the older man as the young noble followed behind Boram, “don’t you think it would be, well, more efficient in dealing with these skeptical people? I imagine it would be a waste of time for us to do such a thing, yes?”

 

[Noel Strasza]

W A R M A C H I N E
DESIGNATION_DEADER : TASK_FORCE_66
OBJECTIVE : NORMALIZATION
ORD_THODEN
CAST : Djorn Bline Rika Hiro Icarn Amonta Tyrell Paxxus

Times changed. ​

But the galaxy... it rarely did. Her unplanned leave had taken its time passing her by, leaving her agitated more than usual and itching to claw her way out of the sterile, durasteel cage she'd come to know. That lab. Doctors. Engineers. The Vulture. Every issued order to return to the facility only served to nurture the festering disdain she held for the Imperial scientists, those who had discarded her glass shards and rebuilt her into something greater. Something more useful than just a commando.​

A warmachine.​

"Major, you're dropping in six, over." The voice crackled in her augmented skull, echoing with the resonance of finality. It rattled along the edges of her ears, crept down her spine, and shook her ribcage. It was enough to force an unnecessary breath to push from her nose and she rose, flipping the boxy helmet she clutched between her hands around to swipe the side of a curled fist against the visor, cleaning it. She tucked it against her ribs to free a hand for reaching above, gripping the straps to keep herself upright as the ship teetered, coming in low over the fringes of civilization. She fought the turns and twists, swaying to either side as she strolled, moving to claw at the handle of the door and tug it open. ​

"Copy, out." she uttered back without moving her lips, peering down over the landscape with spiraling lenses of cybernetic design. Her retinal HUD lit ablaze, marking the path she had been programmed with and highlighting targets already. So soon. She was thankful for that familiar red against the otherwise dead background; it had been too long since she had seen it etched across her glass. The cold wind bit at the pale skin of her face, whipping back through the longer strands of hair nestled above, and the cyborg drew another needless breath. Fresh air. Another jostle of the ship swayed her forward, pitching her heavy weight towards the edge, but her grip held fast easily enough, keeping her locked where she needed to be for the time. Six minutes. After two months of pacing and waiting six minutes should have been nothing.​

But it felt like an eternity. ​

The timer fixed on the side of her HUD ticked down, flashing the numbers in pale green. Her mind fixed on them, focusing on nothing else as she found her center. Those quiet moments before the inevitable clash. The ricochet of blaster fire. The grinding chorus of slug shots. The crash of mock, titanium limb against blood and bone. Three minutes.​

Deader flipped her helmet around in her hand and hefted it, ducking her head to slide it on, locking it into place with a twist. The communications of The New Imperial ground forces chattered in her right ear, echoing across the bone the same as always. Precision. That brought a smile to her half a mouth. The coded orders. The chirps of troopers. Music. A hand curled back behind her nape to grasp the hem of the hood sewn onto her blackened cloak and she tugged it forward, sliding it into position and leaving naught but the faint red glow of her visor and the grinning maw of the shark painted on the side of her helmet to the world. One minute. ​

Nestled at the base of her spine she felt energy divert, surging to ready her landing unit for deployment. Two hundred foot drop? Something like that she decided, keeping her eyes on the clock. Thirty seconds. The ship teetered again, sweeping to avoid detection as the stealth field wrapped around its hull crackled from stray interference. "Easy now," she breathed, swaying with the motions to keep from being thrown. ​

Go.​

The Major's arms snapped up, catching the brace bar over the door and she swung her feet outward, snapping against the air as her spine torqued. And then, the quiet of the descent. The bliss of air whistling by her mock senses. The drone of the ship fading. The voices of the city rising in raging swell as she plummeted like a stone, dropping from the air as quietly as she had arrived. It was good while it lasted. The electromagnetic field she expected projected from her form in an instant as flaps deployed, slowing her descent tremendously and allowing her to twist herself in the air, locking her knees to brace her boots for the impact. The crash was rougher than she remembered and her frame groaned with the strain, mimicking the hiss of the earth she had found to land on. A steep hiss ushered the release of energy with the spiraling adjustment of her knees in their sockets, distributing the kinetic force of the landing to be stored and repurposed at her leisure.​

A call came then across COMPNOR's coordination comms, drolled out by the automation in her voice: "This is Deader- support's here. Requesting link, over." ​

A blessing from the skies for those in need, perhaps.​

She had her mission for this world at last- a rabid plague hound set loose from her chain after months of starvation.​

Unmerciful gods save those who dared stand in her way. ​

 

[Strain]

Where there was insurgencies there was always a supply line or a cache. Guerilla warfare was as old as the galaxy itself. If he could find those caches in the high canyons and deep mountains, then they would deny the enemy supply. No supply was what strain and 1st Stormcommandos were out here for. They'd spent a few weeks on shore leave and then recalled, all rather hush.

He was just finishing adding a scope to his DLT, snapping it into place with a satisfying crunch. the doors of the building whirred back and he found his eyes locked with a man wearing traditional captains garb. The polished boots, the straight wrinkle free uni. Strain smirked, showing his grizzled salt and pepper visage to the man.

"Can I help you?"

"You are Sergeant Strain yes?"

"Depends who's asking bub. What can we do you for."

Automatically the members of his squad began to perk up, hands close to their weapons. Strain shot them a sidelong glance.

"Your squad is being requisitioned to serve as shock troopers near the Capitol building. After the shelling of Record Bureau the locals have opened fire and dissipated back into the crowd."

Strain hefted his weapon, and then sat it down, crossing both arms.

"Sorry Captain uh?"

"Tyco."

"Yeah sorry Cap'n Tyco but we don't answer to you. We have our own orders."

For a minute it looked as if the Officer would scoff. His lips tightened, and fist curled then he slid his hands behind his back.

"I am the Garrison Commander-"

Strain cut him off holding up one hand.

"I don't answer to pathetic garrison commanders Capn. I answer to a division of people who'd be very interested to know why you are obstructing a class one imperial Spec op. In fact I got it all right here."

He patted his helmet, sitting on the table.

"Now should we continue this lil back and forth or will you be going now?"

The Officer turned a shade of white and curled his lip.

"That's what i thought Sir, go back to Commanding your lil backwater forces. Let the big boys take of the big boy work."

Once the door whooshed shut the entire room burst into laughter. Strain himself felt tears well from his eyes. Connor turned to him, and clapped him on the back.

"You know that's a court marhsalable offense there."

Strain chuckled then shrugged.

"He'd have to find us first. Don't let the dogs off the leash if you don;t want someone to get bit. I could be knee deep in women, creds and whiskey at Taro's Backwater Resort and Casino. Instead were in this mess. We got the bikes ready?"

Their main tech, Sarah nodded.

"Cool suit up, we'll SP to the Objective in ten mikes. Bring extra explosives, particularly those shaped charges..."

"I just got a ping Sarge, Operative Deader is in the AO requesting a link."

"Toss her a ping, let her know we got an extra bike. She can roll with us if she like."

Noel Strasza

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD THODEN
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta | Rika Hiro | Tyrell Paxxus | Noel Strasza

“Yeah, that. If that’s how you look at things,” he replied back to Icarn, raising an eyebrow at the operative from his dialogue of “fancy” words and having minor philosophy into it. The shapeshifter was still odd at times, some elements still deeply ingrained in his mind. As long as Volta did what he was ordered, then Djorn wouldn’t have much of a problem with his choice of words and vocabulary. He did heard of a recent disagreement they had with a Storm Commando on Kynachi. An event without Djorn monitoring Icarn on the assignment. So long as nobody died, then he didn’t gave much of a damn. Only thing he told Icarn was to keep his cool; there were tons of hard heads in special operations.

But what was more...concerning was the presence of Tyrell. A dead man now walking among the living after he was bombarded by a barrage of tank shells. He was cold as the dark, a completely different man since that engagement. Loyal to the cause, but with different methods.

“Perfect. We’ll use them strategically against any obstacles in our path,” he replied to the HRD agent of his detachment. There would be some cases of collateral damage across the board. No one was safe, but that didn’t matter.

Finally, their dropship landed to their designated LZ while being greeted with what appeared to be selected leaders of this sect of Imperial Separatists.

 

[Enlil]

​

N O R M A L I Z A T I O N

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

ORD THODEN

​

"The chaos that followed the dropping of the Hall of Records rippled through other areas, but many delinquents have returned to their volatile actions." The report brought a frown to Enlil's lips. "Ground commanders in corresponding areas have moved to stifle the damage, but a great deal has already been done and the panic has spread. They do have a clearer cut sight of who is an insurgent and who is not."

"Then we have achieved our purpose with the action," the King said flatly. "Have the Stormtroopers double their efforts. Contain this zone of the capital and once we have a small victory, we will make a report to the others. The news will improve morale overall."

The shelling ceased. With the building in ruins, people began to look out from their hiding places and breathed a bit easier. Stormtroopers continued to fire into the crowded streets, but now their green blaster fire was very apparently lethal. "Those still in the streets can be considered dangerous. The Stormtroopers have effectively made the proper decision without my direction. Do not inhibit them."

"We should allow the rest of the insurgents to be put down?"

"An example," he agreed. "Make ready to broadcast it across the open channels across Ord Thoden."

"Of course, my lord. The communications officer has already sliced the necessary channels and taken command of the Networks across the surface."

"Excellent. Open the live visual immediately." Enlil kept his gaze on the crowd and watched as they died. Men and women, indiscriminate. They had chosen their fates by contributing to open rebellion. They had refused order, and so, they would reap the chaos that they sowed.

"In the midst of slaughter?"

"Normalization." The King corrected. "They should absolutely witness the consequences of their sedition."

Visual feeds across the surface erupted online with live footage of wholesale slaughter. Stormtroopers firing into the ranks of the rebels, mowing them down like cattle. They dropped with expressions of terror on their faces, and their bodies fell lifeless. The white armored soldiers stepped over them like they were garbage littering the streets. They would clean house later, once the dirtiest of the work was finished. "The flag bearer," he gestured. "Pan toward him. Make certain they realize that the Empire has taken hold."

"Immediately, my lord."

The cameras panned away from the carnage and showed the Stormtrooper, who raised the flag of he Imperium high. It shone brightly in the daylight that now shined through the city, and the Imperial Anthem played in the background. They remained in focus on that shot for nearly a minute before the program went dead, and the city fell silent. "It has finished," the Sargent confirmed.

"Now, we wait."

 

[Icarn Amonta]

" V O L T A "

Tag: Djorn Bline | Rika Hiro | Tyrell Paxxus | Noel Strasza

---

​

"I see death." ​

That last bit had Icarn casting a curious gaze toward the speaker, a surprised chuckle escaping their throat. "Well, I am right here," they said with a wicked grin, far too pleased with themself and the silly line that escaped them. They were far from the mantle of death itself, nor did they have a fascination with scythes, yet wherever they went death seemed to follow.

Icarn had nothing to do with that, clearly.

As the dropship landed, Icarn hit their feet with more force than one would expect from their current body type. Their boots sunk into the ground a fraction. They were tempted, incredibly tempted, to greet those who treated them themself. 'Yes, yes how lovely of you to meet me' was practically on the tip of their tongue. Yet restraint was in their favor today, and Icarn found themself falling into place with his fellow operatives, letting another take the actual lead.

 

[Noel Strasza]

R U S H _ H O U R
DESIGNATION_DEADER : TASK_FORCE_66
OBJECTIVE : LAUNDRY_LIST
ORD_THODEN
CAST : Strain

The response came as quickly as she would have liked, though the area of operation was a bit outside of where it was her mission was to unravel. She could make do, she figured, it wasn't as if efficiency was lost to her. The cyborg hummed to herself as the crackling call reverberated in her skull, rattling about invasively to derail her train of thought. Assassination was a high brow ordeal, not to be taken lightly. But... she doubted her target would stray from where it was their intelligence suggested, and as such, decided it was a gamble that could bear more fruit than if she remained solo on the ground, however infiltrative and stealthy she was. ​

"Copy, wilco to rally, out." Her return message was as mechanized as the first had been, and without much else, the lone commando moved back from the fringes of the city and rushed with her unnatural gait to rendezvous with Sergeant Strain and his corps. ​

Her rather swift arrival would come as no surprise to anyone who had any idea who she was, whether it was by rumor carried on the hushed tongue or those rare previous experiences with the warmachine when she was assigned outside of her Task Force. She didn't stand around. She didn't waste time. She didn't idle well. The speeders lined up outside of the building earned a side-glance through her red-tinted visor in brief pass, taking inventory of how many troopers she was going to walk into the middle of. Extra bike. Minus one. The droid socketed into her shoulder and fed into her sensory systems whirred as its blades unraveled, swiveling upon its pivoting point to sweep the area, directing the environmental information she could not see to her HUD, effectively opening her eyes to confirm her count. ​

Good.​

"Tch, the disrespect-" a captain in a uniform with his collar on too tight muttered as he passed her by, quickly straightening his posture with the major's passage. "Major-" ​

"You must be lost," she droned in dismissive response, already out of patience. Non-operatives were perhaps her least favorite conversationalists. ​

Without another word to the twice belittled man, the major stepped through the doors, head snapping to either side sharply as she did so. Inside once more, she brushed a hand upward, pushing back the hem of the scramble cloak she donned, and released a quiet breath. The first trooper to notice her and the rank emblazoned on her exposed shoulder-guard stiffened, though she shook her head and flexed a digit before her helmet, stopping him. She didn't care for the formalities; her rank wasn't earned by ass-kissing and console jockeying, and she sure as hell didn't need her ego fluffed. ​

Strasza fixed her painted, etched helmet forward, nodding down towards the man in the middle. He was unfamiliar to her, mostly, either that or her memory was still shaky and scrambled. 50/50. "Sergeant," the major stated evenly with her step forward and the whirring extension of her right hand for a shake. Her red lenses flicked from him to the others gathered about beneath her visor, "Let's not waste any more time." ​

 

[Savoh Muska]

Normalization

​

Once again COMPNOR seems to be back at it. Savoh was never truly sure what they were up to at any given moment. All he knew was that it seemed like the rest of the New Imperial Order as always playing catch up with their own efforts. A fairly powerful and secretive organization within and out of the NIO proper, and he didn't really like this. But then again Savoh didn't like most people. His own paranoia seemingly dictating ever little action and thought of his. Also communicating all day with machines mad for war wasn't healthy for one's mental health.

Being an officer in the prestigious Imperial Navy also didn't help in his own personal interests in the earthly matters of backwater planets in the far outer rim. But promotions don't grow on trees so he would subject himself to a somewhat more hands on approach for the NIO's growing sphere of influence on the galactic stage. Standing on the bridge of one his smaller Raider-Class Corvettes his replica droid body overlooked operations on board. Remotely controlled from orbit on his proper command ship where his true self was stored.

Already enough of NIO forces were had their focus on the planet's capital which was fair. It held the most political control over the planet. The conflict boiled over and out of the city limits. When taking planets like this it was important that the population comes to the conclusion of a unanimous acceptance, or at the very least, tolerance of NIO rule. If he could compel Some of these lesser settlements from across the planet to give into the demands of COMPNOR and thus the NIO as a whole, that could be one less guerilla group looking to challenge things on the local level. Which means less time and recourses wasted in a prolonged conflict. Savoh just hoped that his efforts here would be recognized by his superiors afterwards...

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Nationalized Assets
New Imperial Order
Krill-Besh-16 mining facility, Ord Thoden
| Open |

The strike-team moved through the shadows as best they could with what little light they were able to use without alerting the enemy to their presence. The entrance to the mine had become something of a no man's land between the two sides. Bodies of both stormtrooper and mercenary were strewn about from the last handful of times the NIO had tried to push inwards. They hadn't had the might of the Force Corps like they did now.

As they moved swiftly and deftly, Hans could see light ahead. He raised a hand to the soldiers and his blade retracted in to its hilt. The first entrenchment was ahead. The squad squatted low and huddled in. Gruff voices ahead merged into a cacophony of sounds, making it impossible to judge how many opponents they'd face, but it surely meant that Hans' squad was so far unheard.

"What's the plan, sir?" one of the soldiers close to him whispered. Hans was unfamiliar leading troops, and there was only so much confidence, or fear, inspired by a lightsaber. As Hans turned to the soldier, he realized he had been silent for some time, fixated on what they could possibly do. "Right, oh. Taken them by surprise. I'll draw their fire, you fire back. Understood?" As Hans' eyes had begun adjusting to the darkness, he could see a few slight nods from the soldiers, and no one spoke up against his plan.

With that, Hans reached over his shoulder for his shield. The phrik bulwark detached from its magnetic lock to his armour and he raised it in front of him. The soldiers stood to their feet after him, and the squad began their charge. No war cry, no warning. Just the sound of a lightsaber igniting and blasters roaring on the unsuspecting defenders.

Their position was a metal barricade placed at an upwards incline in the tunnel, putting them slightly above the Imperials. It was makeshift, but well manned and well armed. Previous assaults had no doubt failed from the lack of cover afforded to the attackers. Amber bolts slammed into the mercs closest to the Imperials, while the rest began to frantically shot back. Luckily, the sight of an Imperial Knight had the intended effect. The mercenaries prioritized Hans above all else.

Unlike with lightsabers, his shield was less resistant to blasters, meaning Hans had to deflect what he could with his lightsaber. The covering fire from his allies took the edge off, but he struggled to exercise moves from lightsabers he was unfamiliar with. After all he was used mostly to fighting Sith, not private armies. Almost half a decade of Shii-Cho and Makashi hadn't prepped him for an all out laser barrage.

For minutes the Imperials unleashed their wrath. Superior weapons fired a constant stream of pain towards the defenders, giving Hans enough time to leap over the barricade with the force and carve through the defenders.

"Captain, we've secured the first position. Heading to the second. Over and out." Hans radioed to the officer outside. As he looked back to the auxiliaries, he saw no casualties. He supposed they had caught the mercs by surprise enough, but now they were certainly aware of the intrusion. The force might not be so forgiving in the next encounter.

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD THODEN
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta | Rika Hiro | Tyrell Paxxus | Noel Strasza

“Chlort Harrin,” one of the Imperial Separatists introduced themselves to Djorn as he and his team of Imperial operatives approached the militant group of revolutionaries.

“Commissioner Bline, and this is my merry team of operatives,” returning back the greet to the Harrin. “What’s the situation other than folks spilling blood in the streets?”

He needed specifics, details. What is being contested, what were their focuses on.

“The central police station is under our control, and we have seized any armament to our advantage. Any other military assets are being contested. Other than that, tons of collateral damage. Plenty of infrastructure has been brought to ruins.”

Typical, but that was the price for new order to be established.

“And the capitol?”

“Haven’t organized any movements towards it, that was going to be our last priority.”

“Well now it’s our main objective. With New Imperial assets, we can overwhelm whatever Republic Loyalists on Ord Thoden. Prepare whatever you’ve got, this’ll be a tough one.”

Imperial combatants began to mobilize, preparing strategies and making sure everyone was well equipped on their march to the capitol.

 

[Thea]

T H E A

ORD THODEN
Akash Guul :: Open
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ​

As the Scout Troopers stalked forward, a loud explosion sounded through the area and a blast of dust leveled an off-distant cave into nothingness. Debris showered the area, and Thea's makeshift squad of Republika's finest shuddered. A squishy thud splattered in front of one of the paramilitary soldier's foot, revealing the charred and bloodied limb of a Scout Trooper.

"I think that's a foot."

Thea squinted as the soldiers dry-heaved or puked at the gore. The plastoid armor was missing and the force of the detonation was not thermal, otherwise, there would have been a glob of burnt plastoid rather than a foot. A kinetic charge, a directional mining charge perhaps?

Remembering the vague blast pattern, it definitely had a linear trajectory and blast. So, directional mining charges. Booby-trapped, retro-tech style.

Scratching her head, she sighed. The ion missile launcher paired with makeshift, guerrilla style traps? Clearly, these armed resistance were either highly trained, had been doing this for a while, or perhaps were outsourced. There was no way they were simple backwater militia banded together to stop Imperial occupation.

Directing the squad to take cover, she comm'ed the remaining Scout Trooper.

"They know our approximate location. I doubt they have a jammer, but they are clearly skilled operators. Be hyper vigilant. Prowling only."

Comm'ing the Scout Trooper hanging back in the rear, she ordered her second order.

"Tell the Major to consolidate overwatch to prevent further ambushes. No more fully covered forward positions."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

BLUE-HEART BATTALION
OBJECTIVE 1: Normalisation

ALLIES: Djorn Bline Enlil Icarn Amonta Akash Guul Tyrell Paxxus Ravraa Vyshraal Rika Hiro Noel Strasza Savoh Muska

'Lovin' these new optics-modifications, Josie. But ah need music, suhin ah can drink ti! Get it seen ti, get oan some Folk tunes for the lads!'

Snorting light disbelief, Jorie retorted,'Milord, If ye hate the local music outside that much, ye can slam the auld chanties oan yersel.', before setting his sights on the Lord-Major's tank formation in full advance. With non-affiliated cells being located and identified by the NIO-affiliated locals who were still in the area, the walkers would move to tackle the nearest as the tanks made to use their greater momentum in their advances on farther targets, all whilst the ACV's slowly crept behind both former and latter; and whether that was caused by caution or inebriation, it depended entirely on each cluster of officers and non-coms.

'Sea-chanties it is then! Get oot the way, and take a swig o' the Clachan while yer at it! And drink it like a man! None o' that sippy sip-sip nonsense, gulp it like you've goat hairs oan yer chest awready!'

The tanks in the distance would get the party into full swing, destroying the first of marked militia-nests as small groups of NIO-affiliated locals either walked behind or commuted atop with sighted fixed on the areas around them, providing ideal cover for the often-exposed tanks in the broken urban environment lying in their wake. Soon after, the auditrory thumping of the walkers' sonic lazer-impacts brought an approving smirk to the drunken face of the Lord-Major; everything seemed to be underway after the Blue-Hearts' late arrival, and all that Lord Erskine needed to do was sit and watch as the op's simplicity kept the battalion's vehicles from straying too much, yet that almost-paranoid sense of wariness still remained.
It's gotten just a wee bit too quiet oot there. Wee dafties hink ahm stupit, dae they? Lets see how smart they 'hink they are efter this!

'Sergeant Strathie, open the hatch then scurry back a bit.', Barran grumbled at his comms-operator, slurring his words slightly as he drew his blaster-pistol from it's holster. Grabbing the Clachan-filled hipflask, the Lord-Major took an aggressive swig of the whiskey within before twisting the stopper on, bellowing,'FRAG-OUT!!!', before tossing the hipflask through the hatch to confuse their (up until that point) quiet enemies outside, forcing the unaffiliated locals to surrender their element-of-surprise and their exact positions at the same time. Sniggering at the ease of his gamble's payoff, Erskine then growled,'There yees scurry, ya wee cretins! OPEN FIRE!!! And cover me like yer lives are dependin' oan it - 'cause they are!', before he climbed out the hatch and into the firefight around them.

​

​

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Nationalized Assets
New Imperial Order
Krill-Besh-16 mining facility, Ord Thoden

​

The Force Corps soldiers pushed through the next two entrenched positions as simply as they had the first. The mercenaries had indeed held more barricades than the NIO scouts had been able to map, but the lack of enemy forces manning them left Hans puzzled, and worried that something was amiss. Shortly after the third barricade, the captain sent word to Hans that the distraction had been a success and the side entrances were under Imperial control. If that was the case, the mercenaries had to be gathering further in.

As they made their way into a large central chamber of catwalks that overlooked a deep pit, Hans was not surprised in the least as they were surrounded by the bulk of the mercenaries. They were forced to surrender. With a few dozen guns trained on them at all times, the squad was escorted to the overseer's office that sat above the chamber.

Hans was pushed inside the small office while his squad was detained just outside. Across the room, flanked by two armed Rodians, sat a bulbous human with a thin, scraggly beard and a beaten mercenary uniform. The air was thick with smoke from the pipe he puffed away on.

"You're a genu-ine Imperial Knaght ain't ya?" he said in a thick country drawl, probably from the outer rim if Hans had to guess. "You gonna fetch a naaace praace. They'll make you a gladiator or summin'."

Hans stared at the man with no emotion, reaching for his lightsaber. Without a word the Rodians pointed their rifles at him.

"You don't wanna do that, son." He warned, changing from his jovial manner of speaking to a harsher tone.

"Slavery is illegal in this part of the galaxy, you know. Where's your company registered?"

"Is that so. Blondie? What about somewhere else, what if I told you my company is registered in the middle of nowhere like Hoth!" the mercenary leader and both his guards broke into a fit of laughter. As they dropped their guard, Hans thrusted both of his hands forward as quick as possible and sent the Rodians flying through the glass windows behind them. The leaders face instantly turned from a wild laugh to a face of stone, like he'd seen a ghost.

Hans activated his lightsaber and pointed it towards the mercenary leader. "Order your men to stand down and they'll be allowed to leave. You're coming with me. You're under arrest."

Hans motioned his white blade upwards to tell the man to stand, and then walked him to the facility intercom where the remaining mercenaries were told to stand down as Imperial forces flooded in. The mine was secured for the time being. Whatever differences the New Imperial order and the Mining Guild of Ord Thoden had would be resolved in a court, or at least a backroom if COMPNOR was involved. The fighting in this region was over.

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD THODEN
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta | Rika Hiro | Tyrell Paxxus | Noel Strasza

It would be a bloody march to the capitol. That would be guaranteed. Soldiers and militiamen would have a tight security around its premise and other surrounding areas. If the separatists acted alone, then they wouldn’t have a chance. But with the aid from the warmachine of the New Imperial Order? That would even out the odds.

“The rules of engagement are minimal. Just shoot and kill anyone that gets in our way. I don’t care much if collateral damage, no reason why neutral bystanders are in the middle of a firefight. Follow my lead and we’ll get through with this.”

They were now beyond any measures of safety, yards away from entering the hot zone in this urban environment.

Time to bring this revolution to its conclusion.

A new age would dawn on Ord Thoden. Despite it being born from bloodshed.

 

[Xeilragh Graege]

OBJECTIVE I: AT THE ROOT​

The lineup was easy enough to gather, between the city that the 407th had come to occupy, not many of them were actual warriors. Scattered remnants of police forces were shot down in the streets, treated like stray animals that needed to be dealt with, any any actual semblance of barracks or military installations were mortar struck from miles away before the Legion ever even dared to breach the city gates. Those that survived the strikes were slaughtered, not with bullet, as that would be a waste of resources. Bayonets were drawn across throats and plunged into charred masses of flesh. A simple culling. The Reaper Legion had found it’s purpose within the NIO, executing the Imperator’s will without mercy.

The Imperator demanded the planet.

They would give it to him.

The city was filled to the brim with democratic dissenters, Republican revolutionaries that dared to tip the balance of Imperialism away from the planet. At least, that was according to the papers shifted to the Legion Commander by COMPNOR.

Unacceptable.

The line up was of the old, young, broken and battered, but it was not the bodies that were important, it was the thoughts within them.

Bodies were false, bodies could be destroyed. Ideas? Immortal.

Thus, they needed to be purged.

The stormtroopers of the 407th stood behind each row of the insurgents, Outland rifles at their sides.

<”Ready!”> Xeilragh shouted.

A chorus of bolts finding home responded.

<”Aim!”>

Each of the soldiers matched their barrels with the back of the head of an insurgent.

<”Fire!”>

And the last sound the town would ever hear echoed through the streets.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Nationalized Assets
New Imperial Order
Krill-Besh-16 mining facility, Ord Thoden

​

Hans cuffed the mercenary leader and escorted him out of the mines with the hilt of his lightsaber pressed to his back, ready to be activated in a moment's notice. The fear of a quick impalement kept the man shuffling along. They stepped out into the harsh daylight to be greeted by an infantry squad, who took the prisoner and made their way to a nearby shuttle.

Hans walked back to the siege camp. The wind was picking up and the sand was whipping. He would be glad to get out of this place. He approached the Captain and gave a salute. The Captain set down his datapad and graciously returned it.

"You'll have quite a report ahead of you, Knight Rennagen."

"Indeed, sir. But I'm all too happy to see filth like him removed from our new empire. He threatened to sell me into slavery."

"Did he now? Well, his dissidence is enough to ensure he'll be locked away, though I hope the judiciary choose to follow up on that. I will order for him to be taken to the capital as quickly as possible. You have done a service to Ord Thoden's people, even if they do no recognize it yet."

"Thank you, sir. The auxiliaries will be staying behind to bolster your forces, but will be taking my leave back to Bastion."

"Safe travels, Knight."

With that, Hans turned to board his own shuttle bound for Bastion. He felt a walk in the gardens of Pelleaon was warranted after the events of the day...

 

[Bastard]

"I march to the beat of unheard drums. They sound through the night, a signal of impending doom."

Tags: Open​

Skin ruptured beneath the Crestfallen's gauntlet. Flesh tore, blood splattered across the canyon floor. It stained his tattered black cloak, darkening it where the crimson ichor landed. Errant paid it no mind. His cold gaze met the pleading eyes of a disheveled human woman. She battered his wrist in a vain attempt to free herself from the inevitable. Her pleas for mercy echoed around the earthen bowl. Still, he did not hear them. It was as if all but the punishment enacted on her ceased to exist before him. Each hit came slower than the last, weaker. No longer could she find the strength even to open her mouth to beg. As her bloodshot eyes finally rolled back into her skull, he released her.

She tumbled to the ground, just another body amidst the dozens who littered the otherwise empty canyon. He turned from her corpse and studied the others splayed about the space. The battle was a brutal one. Blood coagulated within the dirt beside shattered bodies. Intenstinse leaked from a disemboweled man. A headless rhodian rested beside him, the oblong shape of its head half a dozen feet away.

Errant sheathed his dark blade, content with the slaughter wrought. He slowly worked his way through the inanimate bodies, searching for any evidence of the region's supposed Sith activity. The rumors spoke of a pair of twins, one with skin like flawless ivory, the other the darkest onyx. What witnesses he encountered promised an indomitable pair, masters of both the saber and the Force. The Albino thought little of such warnings. If they bled, they could die—nothing else to it.

He rifled through another's belongings, this one a mess of pulp on the floor. What little resistance it put up fell short in the face of his abilities. Mastery of the Force came naturally to the bastard. So much so, Errant found crushing a being encased in armor such as this to be child's play. Likely a result of his mother's unique physiology and his father's intensive training.

After checking both the bulbous pile's pockets and belt, Errant moved on to the bag. Thankfully, information in the form of a worn-down datapad presented itself to the forlorn Imperial. He clicked it on and navigated the device until he found what he was looking for—a location.

"Finally," Errant muttered. He fitted the trinket onto a clip at his belt and turned towards a distant cliff face. Without another word, the Albino set off towards the source of his ire.

 

[Alexis Reev]

Objective: Stabilization (BYO)
Tags: N/A

The asphalt road crunched beneath Alexis' hobnailed boots, she cut a tan armoured figure in the short stroll across the immaculate industrial street to a slate near featureless grey Durasteel door. Behind a polarized visor, her blue eyes are cast skywards and observe the massive dish sitting atop the Battalion's command post shifting steadily, no doubt keeping communication with some Warship in low-orbit. Captain Reev's code cylinder slides into the portlock and it makes a sequence of mechanical clicks, the Durasteel door opened revealing a ground floor of Battalion headquarters staff busily shuttling between computers and hololithic projections.

Cigarette smoke wafts around the room, though nobody was offended by its' presence truly enough when one worked in a "Seawolf" Battalion headquarters one had to become accustomed to the presence of the heavy haze and the scent of amber whiskey "Captain Reev" The tall, portly and white-haired Major Reur began by slumping down into a wood chair beneath a portrait of Iveric Tavlar looking down above the officer. Reur pulls a fat rolled cigar from out between his cracked lips, with a considered and careful pull the oak drawer opens and from it Major Reur produces a bottle containing the colour of a familiar alcohol; whiskey.

Two tumblers find their purchase on the table. "At ease Captain, and have a seat." Alexis wordlessly obliged her senior officer and took a seat at the tidy albeit obviously busy desk opposite from the Major.

 

[Bastard]

"I march to the beat of unheard drums. They sound through the night, a signal of impending doom."

Tags: Open
​

"N-No plea- Argh!"

The beginnings of another plea sounded as Errant trudged up a thin, wooden path. His blade flashed out in turn, severing the coward's head from his shoulders. He kicked the corpse aside and continued onward. A thud sounded from beneath him, accompanied by a sickening crunch as bone shattered on impact with the rocky floor. Others turned to flee, their earlier spirit wiped away by the cruel display. Reavers further up the canyon overlooking the lone wooden bridge trained their blasters on the pale-skinned Imperial. They tugged on the trigger ineffectively. Their shots flew wide, with very few passing anywhere near him.

"Where are they?" Errant called out.

"We'll never tell you, imperial dog! The masters are far more powerful than you'll ever be," one of the marksmen called from above. He lined up another shot, slowly this time, fully focused on Errant's path. Midway through another step, the bandit fired. Errant raised a hand in turn, fingers splayed out as if to catch the bolt. It impacted his gauntlet and dissipated entirely. Aside from a rising trail of smoke, the Albino appeared unfazed by the attack.

"Wrong answer," Errant muttered. He thrust his hand forward, taking hold of the shooter through the force's omnipresence. The bandit struggled as he rose higher into the air. Now floating above cover, fear leaked from his mind. Errant didn't care for the cover. Nor did the presence of the others worry him. All that mattered was sending a message. His cloak snapped back audibly from the force of which he yanked back his hand. His victim soared through the air towards him, screaming as he fought against his uncontrolled flight.

In an almost sick twist of fate, the lone speaker met Errant's icy-gaze before the Imperial brought his weapon to bear. He pivoted on his front foot, hips rotating in turn with his shoulders as he swept his massive blade out in a horizontal arc. The bandit screamed in agony, unable to hold back the intense pain as the Sith blade cleaved him in two. His body flew past and thudded against a rocky pillar some two dozen feet tall. In his descent, he left a trail of crimson ichor that led to his contorted form. More bodies lined the canyon floor.

"Now," Errant looked back. "Where are they?!" he roared, his patience growing thin.

 

[Loros Kalaric]

OBJECTIVE II​

Ord Thoden, of course, has the term Ord in it’s name for a reason.

And the floor that Loros found himself walking upon, of this massive, endless derelict military storage complex was proving that times over. Feet clacking throughout the emptiness, rebounding off of shipping containers and old walker variants of the Old Empires.

<”Sometime ago, the Pentastar Alignment set up shop on this world.”> The Imperial Army Captain leading the excursion mused, shining the flashlight of his carbine on one of the AT-STs docked next to scaffolding, illuminating the ten-point blue star that represented the forgotten power.

“Think there’s anything worth salvaging?” He mused.

<”Shells are about made from the same materials, odds are we might just scrap the internals and start over. Though, lets see what there is to see. Imperial Remnant states were known for their experimentations and prototypes…”>