Operation Morning Star [SJO vs. TSE]

[Zef Halo]

​

LOCATION: CONCORDIA ORBIT, ASSAULT FRIGATE RETRIBUTION
ALLIES: SJO | [member="Allura Kahli"], [member="Kenth Typho"], [member="Rupert Kingswood"], [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"], [member="Tulan Kor"]
ENEMIES: TSE
SCENE: Dropping at Fortress Imperious

Dorn Company,
3rd Battalion

The blackness of space split open into a symphony of fire and destruction when the Silver Jedi task force reverted into real space and met the furious resistance of the Sith Empire.

For too long the Jedi stood idle as the Sith's tyrannic grasp grew larger and larger with each day. When the Sith had shamed the Jedi, driving them off from their area of influence and leaving countless worlds behind ripe for the Emperor's taking, the galaxy lost faith in the eternal protectors of good. Painted as cowards and impostors by the galaxy at large, the Jedi found solitude and shelter among the forests of wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk.

But hope died last.

A meager flicker of it remained among the Silver Jedi. A flicker which could only be sustained and grown with patience and most importantly - reflection. Reflection of all the mistakes, of all the errors that had led to this catastrophe. Egos were crushed, arrogance was erased and in that reflection they paved the right way forward.

It was time for the first rays of light to pierce the endless night.

Morning Star.​

The muffled sounds of turbolasers pounding at each other roared through the hull of the drop pods. Gravely silent, as always, the soldiers of Dorn Company sat tight in preparation for the inevitable g-force that would strike them upon launch.

Amon tried clearing his mind but the sight of Mandalore's surface ravaged and Concordia, Vizsla's ancient home, occupied by the Sith tore him apart. He didn't realize his teeth were grinding with each other, nor that his fists clenching nearly cracked through the steel gauntlets. He did not know whether it was regret, sorrow or something else running through his system but it surely was not blood. He wanted to blame the Pretender for it all but knew well it was not the guilt of one person.

All of them were guilty.

Every Mando'ade across the galaxy.

The Sith had to pay and the Vizsla would make sure they paid with rivers of blood.

Without further ado, Retribution's launch control operators began the countdown. To some it lasted a year, to others - they were already mentally down on the surface.

'Launch! May the Force be with you.' the crew of the Retribution's voices crackled through comms across the Rangers channels.

--

OOC thread. Click it, there's info on the scenes/objectives possibilities and the minor fleeting 'rule'.

 

[Vaulkhar]

Location: En Route to Concordia, the Fortress Moon​

Objective: Shut down the Weaponized Equator.​

Allies: Silver Jedi Order​

Enemies: The Sith Empire​

Theme: Iron Maiden - Aces High​

Mandalore.

Ven had dreamed about the planet for weeks. It never occurred to him each night he awoke in a cold sweat, dreading a battle he could not remember fighting, that said battle had not been fought yet. A clash of sabers amidst chaos assailed his sleep. Ven could never quite place where he was, why he was there, or who stood across from him but he was beginning to understand the where at least. As he looked over Mandalore, he felt a tinge of familiarity. Some of the Silver Jedi had told him he helped in conquering the planet, apparently he fought in the first wave of the planet's assault against the commanding officer of the Mandalorian defense. The very idea baffled him, but it was on par with everything else he had been told of his past. It was bloody, chaotic, and unforgivable. Yet, the Silver Jedi offered him a chance for forgiveness and this was step one. To make amends for Vaulkhar's past sins, Ven would stand shoulder to shoulder with the order and hopefully cripple the operations on Concordia. If this attack were to be successful, it could be the beginning of rebellion. A single spark to ignite those held under the banner of the Sith Empire, to inspire them, push them, or do whatever the hell else they'd need in order to get up and fight back against the Sith.


It was this hope within him that pushed him into the drop pod he'd be riding down to the moon's surface. Others had gathered near him in neighboring pods, each one holding out they'd make it to fight the good fight beside him. Even Ven understood some of these men and women wouldn't make it to the surface, but they were his responsibility and that pained him. The Order had entrusted these soldiers to him due to the dreams he had experienced the weeks leading up to the announcement of Operation Morning Star. In these dreams, Ven remembered the vast artillery being installed into the moon's equator. In his former life, he must have had some influence in the construction, perhaps as an overseer during the weeks after Operation Hammerfall. These dreams offered him some insight into the assault, which he and the order were quick to implement. A horn blared, signaling the time to strike was nearly upon them. All around Ven, the various soldiers strapped themselves into their pods. He mirrored their movements, straightened, and closed his eyes. Several deep breaths later, the drop pod was released and dozens of them plummeted to the moon below.

The drop pod shook violently as it broke through the planet's atmosphere, flames eating at the exterior of the one man vessel. Fortunately, the shields kept Ven from frying alive within but it was far from a comfortable experience. He maintained his meditation, even as he felt the rumbling explosions all around him. One by one, he could feel individual life forces extinguished by the moon's defenses. In the opening seconds of the battle, dozens of soldiers were obliterated in the blink of an eye. It was hellish, it shook Ven down to his core. He did not know these men or women, but each of them had something they were fighting for, something they were willing to die for. His meditation came to an abrupt end as he felt a coming danger. Thinking quickly, the halfbreed tore his lightsaber free and activated it. He pushed the weapon through the pods exterior before launching a telekinetic wave into the pods entry/exit. It exploded outward as Ven undid his restraints, only to be sucked out into a free fall hundreds of meters above the moon's surface.

What the force warned him of seconds before came into view as an imperial fighter flew past his drop pod, sending a series of ion torpedoes into the singular pod. It blew apart in a fiery explosion seconds later, nearly taking Ven with it. All around him the battle raged now. No matter where he looked there was no safety, only imperial defenders engaged with the jedi offensive. With nowhere else to go, Ven pulled the force to him and blanketed himself as he made his mad descent. With each passing second, the ground grew closer and closer as his window for survival shrunk. Whether by luck or the will of the force, an imperial fighter passed beneath the falling jedi. He launched himself towards the fighter in a blur and reached out with his left arm. The cybernetic hand made contact and clenched tight as Ven's momentum was broken. He released the fighter just as quickly as he made contact and fell the remaining fifty meters unhindered.

With his sudden entry, Ven's form dropped low into a three point landing as the ground cracked from the sudden explosive force. Fissures spread out in all directions as dirt was kicked up and enveloped him in a dusty shroud. His saber burned to life once more, the white energy of the blade alerting the nearby imperial soldiers of his presence. All around him, dozens of drop pods slammed into the moon, releasing the order's soldiers upon the defending forces.

"It's time to rock and roll boys, get to work!" the order echoed around him as he charged forward.

 

[Tsyok]

The command deck of Fortress Imperious had been designed in similar manner to that of the bridges of Harrower-class and Marr-class warships, with high ceilings over a raised platform bordered by sunken data pits and maintenance halls. Around the entire exterior of the deck were a series of trapezoid shaped viewports, covering a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around the entire tower, which was a departure from the normally forward facing viewports of Sith warships. At the center of this cavernous chamber was General Gol'zan, his imposing frame accented by the ungarnished black armor that covered his muscular crimson skin. His head was uncovered except for a cranial half-helm, which left his face open and exposed to the air around him.

"General, enemy ships have entered our forward vector."

"Analyze them, have the Mandalorians finally come to seek vengeance?"

"Negative, General. The vessels have no match against the database of known Mandalorian vessels, but they do match vessels utilized by the Silver Jedi."

"The Jedi?" Now that was a genuine surprise, but a welcome one. "Scramble fighters, force them to ground. Assemble my warriors in the main hangar."

The General turned away from the command deck, stepping onto the octagonal lift at its center and descending down through the tower's reinforced shaft and into the heart of the mountain. Already the entire base had sprung into action, banks of turbolasers opening fire on the approaching ships as aerial strike fighters ejected from multiple bays carved into the very rock itself. If the Silver Jedi wished to test the Empire's mettle here and now, then they would pay dearly for their arrogance with blood and suffering.

By the Emperor's Will, Gol'zan would not falter in his sworn duty.

Death to the enemies of his Immortal Majesty!

 

[BobertEZ]

***Location: Fortress Imperious, Concordia
Objective: Prepare Defenses
Star Date: c. 859
Allies: TSE
Enemies: SJO***

"They've come," Kascalion proclaimed as he stared out through the walls of the Fortress through the Force, the tremors vibrating in the air as these new intruders descended upon a planet claimed by the Sith through right of combat.

"Huh?" Tiyra Shorcrow, mistress of the Phoenix, grunted in response as she adjusted the red helmet hiding her morbid skin. "Who's come?"

The Devil Lion sighed and turned to the woman, a frown covering half their face, "The Jedi."

The doors to the room slid open with sharp hisses followed by heavy footfalls that announced the arrival of the Phoenix, suited into the new plate armor designed to constrain the fires within them. After a moment of silence shared between the three, Lorale nodded and rotated their shoulders to loosen their joints and tendons, and simply whispered: "Let's get started then."

Strapped to their left hip rested their ever trustworthy, albeit weathered lightsaber they had dubbed Bittersweet. It was a fantastic weapon, with a history as old as the Sith Lord themselves, and had served dutifully for many centuries with its extended blade that had carved many individuals down to their smallest atoms. This day, it would carve even more. On their right hip rested Stormlight, the ever hungry blade that sought endless quantities of blood and destruction, desiring to summon storms from the heavens above and rain down lightning upon the fools who charged the Fortress.

Most impressive of the Phoenix's arsenal, however, was sheathed upon their back: a black greatsword of such magnitude and weight that it would be impossible to think of anyone but Lorale Farmar themselves to wield it. The exact details of the blade were unknown to Kascalion and most Sith, but rumors were abound that the blade had been made from pure Phrik laced with Impervium and that it had passed every damage test it had been subjected too. Of course, this was conjecture at the time, but Kascalion knew that any rumor regarding his sibling was likely the truth.

With the order given by Lorale, the trio began to walk the halls of the massive complex that would see combat immemorial against the Silver Jedi that had increased in number quite substantially for the battle. Each step they took, the more anticipation they felt. Silent anticipation, but anticipation nonetheless. When they reached their destination in the vast mountain construct, they would launch themselves like falling stars from the hangar bays to land either behind enemy lines or directly in front of them to keep them from entering the Fortress. Either way, violence would be met with violence.

And so they walked and walked for some odd minutes before finding themselves in the monolithic staging grounds for ship departures and arrivals. Already had most departed to seek out invading fighters and to assault the Jedi's warships in orbit.

Lorale stood at the precipice first, gazing down at the encroaching Jedi that had landed in drop pods and unsheathed the massive blade from their back. A great crackle of fire streaked across the blade for but a moment before the blade silenced and dug into the floor of the hangar.

"The damned fools wish to throw themselves into the gates of the Netherworld first hand," Tiyra would muse whilst readying her double-bladed lightsaber.

Kascalion chuckled and pulled out one of his crimson red lightsabers and blaster pistols, looking to implement a new style into the battle, "They will regret it, like they will regret harming myself and Lorale upon Kashyyyk."

Lorale remained silent, uncharacteristically so, and pulled the top of their armor's beast-shaped helmet over their head, connecting the two halves at the teeth. The eyes lit up with maroon and a series of hisses and whirring echoed through the hangar as the armor seemed to come to life.

"Charge," the Phoenix said simply before leaping off and descending like a comet, an act their companions would copy seconds later.

Where others may have remained inside, commanding from safe vantage points or attacking from safe vantage points, the Phoenix and their sibling and mistress would fight on the ground and face the enemy head on. Such was the way of the warrior.

Such was the way of the true Sith.

 

[Kalt Bruq]

Concodia's equator...

Jedi. They were coming here to Concordia in an effort to cripple the Empire's might. No doubt to either take it or incite some insurrection in their stead. Kalt could only see it as a brave but foolish attempt to hold the might of the imperial war machine. It was also quite a bother. It's not enough that the Empire must finally beat Mandalore into submission, now they it must be that they clench onto it like a predator clenches onto a fresh kill, in front of a potential scavenger. If it weren't for the fact of Vaulkhar's betrayal he wouldn't feel the need to even be here. But he needed to prove his loyalty to the Empire. That his former master didn't somehow try to drag him into the light with him. Or worse, become an spy of the light. The idea that someone would even consider him as such disgusted him.

Perhaps it was a bit of luck then, that a bunch of Jedi would choose to throw themselves at Concordia's defenses while he was there. Upon the sight of oncoming soldiers and Jedi, he lit his lightsaber, it's distinctive black core and red glow made it a little more subtle than the typical sith saber. As the enemies drew closer he prepared a powerful illusion. From beyond the nearest hill a large bird-like creature emerged, resonating a loud, piercing shriek. Anyone familiar with Mandalore might recognize it to be a particularly large shriek hawk. While a master-level Jedi would be able to see through this illusion others would have greater difficulty. Any normal human mostly likely would at least be stunned by the shriek.

"Come at us Jedi!" Kalt yelled, exciting the defenders around him. At the approach of the attackers, he couldn't help but feel something... familiar among them.

[member=Vaulkhar]​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Fortress Imperious, Concordia
Restricted Wing, Rear Assembly Hall…

For some the war never ended.

When the drums of war finally stopped beating over former Mandalorian Space, and the mighty Sith Empire swallowed the ex capital up whole most put down their arms, and most began to accept this new reality of Sith rule. But for some those drums never stopped beating, the fires of hatred still burned as bright as Mandalore’s sun. For some the victory claimed over the Mandalorians wasn’t enough, controlling their former space wasn’t enough, submission wasn’t enough. In the Sith Empire these forces held power beyond measure, absolute authority without equal. While the rest of the galaxy saw peace they wouldn’t see what hatched beneath the surface, hidden in the shadows of the world. A plan decades in the planning was put into effect, protocols long in place finally activated.

Decimation.

The Last War, Great Purge, Cultural Annihilation, Final Humiliation, Ultimate Victory. The Blackblade Guard was the single greatest force the Sith Empire, arguably the galaxy has ever seen, never forgot the past. Under orders from their overlords they spent countless decades in battle against the Mandalorians, and in that time they grew to hate them almost above all others, them and the Jedi. But it was the sons and daughters of Mandalore that slaughtered the very first class of Blackblade Guard, they humiliated them while they were in their infancy. But they evolved. Over the decades they developed into infamous Jedi and Mandalorian killers sharpening their craft, the zealots of House Zambrano. For them the war never stopped, not even with the death of Mand’alor [member="Yasha Cadera"], not even with the fall of the United Clans. For their dedication when the smoke cleared the Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis and the Sith Emperor [member="Darth Carnifex"] gave them the chance for ultimate victory.

Decimation. All Sith-Imperial authorities of the highest level received secret orders. They were to immediately and with all of the resources at their command, answer any demands made by the Blackblade Guard under the subject of Decimation. The Blackblade Guard under charges of treason were never to be inhibited from doing their job. A massive registry of the clans was created for every clan that partook in the wars of the past decades, every clan to openly stand against them. Every single dissident, potential dissident and their families were added to the registry. When the Blackblade Guard descended on a Mandalorian world they did so swiftly. No one understood when the black armored soldiers swept through the streets in great convoys, pulling entire families out of their places of employment, homes, universities, restaurants. They were told nothing and permitted no possessions. They wouldn’t see when the trucks pulled up to their homes and imperial laborers confiscated everything they ever owned. Mandalorians found their armors shut down, weapons stripped.

They were all brought in great convoys far away from the reaches of civilization typically close to the local imperial garrison, but far enough away in a well protected, restricted Blackblade perimeter. It was an operation so secretive even insolent imperial ships and transports were given warnings before being shot at by blackblade pilots. These families were assembled by the thousands at these camps and as soon as they were thrown out of the caravans that was when the grim reality set in. Immeasurable cruelty, unmatched ferocity, barbarity beyond comprehension. Entire families were stripped bare only to be lined up in vast crowds, and swiftly executed. The soulless butchers unleashed sadism on par with the blackest, most despicable demons in world history. It was a scene so horrific it could make the most vile of Sith nauseous. A people from one of the greatest warrior cultures in recorded history were stripped, humiliated, and slaughtered like animals.

Why?

What could they have done to deserve such cruelty? How could their entire lives vanish in a puff of smoke, a line of guardsman escorting people into transports that left never to be seen again? How could homes that once held happy families, memories, warmth by stripped bare only to find them filled a mere day later by loyal, dedicated, proud imperials apart of the colonization and frontier program? Many of them had no part in the wars, often they were too young to have fought against the Sith of the wars past, yet they were slaughtered all the same. It was a quiet, terrible genocide hidden beneath a cloak of shadows. In every camp the very sight of massive mounds of Beskar armor rising fifteen, twenty feet or more in the air was enough to send shivers down one's spine.

Concordia was no different.

There was a city of twelve million laborers on the surface of the moon, twelve million workers many of which were from the capital the moon orbited around. They had no idea what was happening when the Blackblade Guard assembled in its entirety with the Shadow Hand and the Highlord personally attending. [member="General Gol'zan"] was merely issued a verbal order from an agent of the Shadow Hand that Decimation was now in effect, and all Sith-Imperial forces were to comply with anything that the Blackblade Guard asked. A huge wing of the Fortress Imperious was cleared and thoroughly sealed by the legion, while transport efforts were immediately underway. It was unbelievable just how efficient these monsters were at taking life, how sharpened their skills were in murder, they were surely masters of their craft. For the guard shifts were regularly rotated to ensure every single guardsman got his chance to slaughter the laborers, every single guardsman would get the chance to humiliate and butcher the mandalorians like animals.

Over twenty thousand people died in the course of one day alone.

A hundred and twenty five thousand people were killed in the very first week that Decimation came to Concordia. It was in the rear assembly hall that the executions were taking place. The very moment their bodies hit the floor they were taken away for the process of entechment, their organic forms would be converted into energy to serve the Sith-Imperial war effort. Not a single shred of evidence remained behind but memories of the lost. How many rulers could be strong enough to order the deaths of millions, but sit and watch their end? Few. The Shadow Hand silently observed the executions take place. Every barrage of blaster fire that rang out, a thunderous boom before the bodies all hit the floor. The innocent cried silently to themselves out of fear of feeling the direct attention of these dark armored butchers. The Lord of Lies drank in the sight of death like anyone would a fine wine, he let the finality of it wash over his skin, feeling their lives flash out like candles. The last of a days batch were being executed when an agent approached:

“Your Supreme Excellency the Silver Jedi are here.”

But the Master of Death didn’t seem to blink an eye he didn’t appear surprised by the words. Did he know? Did he expect them? It wasn’t clear. Darth Prazutis merely dismissed the man and turned to Highlord Osbasid who approached on his left. “The Silver Jedi have arrived. Finish processing these vermin and assist with defense where needed.” He said.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | ​

 

[Funami Teriyaki]

Location: Fast Traveling to Concordia
Allies: TSE
Enemies: SJO
Equipment


“Huh? Under attack?” The small Sith repeated in a hushed whisper, paying the news little to no attention as she focused on playing a holo game. Strife left, dart right, jump, attack, dodge - it required quick reflexes and nimble fingers. But most of all, she thought while battling against a particularly difficult foe, it required concentration. Controller in hands, staring at the holographic image of her avatar’s back and very busy battling a legendary monster, the little gamer never spared a glance at the servant who had just revealed the Empire was under attack. “You sure? Aren’t the Jedi supposed to be, like, a defensive faction? Um, I dunno. Lemme finish this round and save my progress.”

Shrugging, the child continued to fiddle with the controller. The whole Empire mattered nothing at that moment, replaced by the small Sith’s passion for winning. With a borderline religious devotion to finish the fight at hand, the Sithling fixed her gaze upon the holo table and completely ignored any and all pleas coming from the world around. Swift motions of her fingers toyed with the projected battle, guiding and controlling each swing and footstep of her avatar. And then the character dropped dead.

“No way! I totally blocked that!” The acolyte yelled at the hologram, eyes wide open and staring at the game over screen. “This game’s dumb, the animations are all broken!” The controller flew into the corner and Funami folded her arms across her chest, angrily glowering at the servant.

She had lost.

Tiny fingers curled into little fists and several objects about started to float as though caught in water. The Dark laughed, urging the girl to smash the entire room and splatter the fool before her against the wall.

But it seemed a more suitable opportunity had presented itself. A chance to win and release all that pent up frustration.

“Concordia, you said?” The child repeated, quizzically perking an eyebrow at the man who stood frozen in fear. Her hands loosened their grip and went to brush a strand of pink hair from her face. Rising from the overpaid sofa, Funami let her socked feet kiss the carpet and went over to the mirror. An adjustment here and there and she had restored the image of a little child and admired her own reflection. Groomed into perfection, the child appeared absolutely nothing Sith.

“Okaaay~,” she simpered, pocketing her lightsaber and sweeping her little cape off a chair. “Let’s go!”

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Location: Fortress Imperious, Main Hangar
Objective: Distraction
Allies: None nearby
Enemy: [member="General Gol'zan"]

"What's with that new squad member, anyways? He never even talks!"

"Last I saw, he even sleeps in the armour. Never takes off his helmet, just takes some water and a bit of the nutrient paste every meal."​

​

"Do you think he's some new creation from the Emperor and the Dark Council? Some sort of new, improved, modified trooper?"​

​

"Wouldn't surprise me. Armour doesn't even seem to fit him right. Too bulky in spots, either implants or muscle enhancements."​

​

"That's what I thought. You really think it's a good idea having him around, sergeant?"​

​

"Wasn't my choice. As much as he creeps me out, we're stuck with him. Now go on, move faster! Orders said to be in the main hangar in two minutes, they came from the general himself. We're not quite halfway there and we've already wasted one of those minutes."

Beneath the shiny black helmet of the armour he wore, Cotan smiled. Soldiers were soldiers, no matter who they fought for. He felt somewhat bad about how he had to hide himself—speaking would've given his cover away, as would removing the helmet. Even if he knew how to disengage the seals easily, which he didn't. So, unfortunately, he had to keep these other three on their toes, somewhat anxious and scared around him. As they neared the hangar, however, he spotted a storage room off to one side. Thankfully, there was nobody else in the corridor they were in at the moment.

"Hey!"

The other three squad members turned around to look at him, incredulous. "I need you guys to sit this one out. Sleep well!" With the Force, he grabbed the three, smacking their helmets together sharply. Just enough to knock each of them out, not enough to give them any significant damage. Then he pushed them into the room, closing and locking the door.

He quickly jogged back out into the main hangar, slipping into a different group among all the chaos that was happening while soldiers filed in. He'd been gathering some information for the last few days, transferring it back to the Silver Jedi after he'd slipped in on a troop transport and assumed the position of one of the legionnaires on it. Now, though, as he could see General Gol'zan in front of him, it was time to drop the cover.

It would've been smartest just to try and assassinate the general. Take him out, throw the combat coordination into some slight disarray for a few minutes, until somebody else cut down on all the insanity and seized control. But that wasn't how Cotan operated; instead, he'd make a distraction, fight the general in honourable combat. The proper, Jedi way of doing things.

He placed his blaster carbine into the free hand of a legionnaire next to him, pushing gently with the Force into the man's psyche to make him more willing to accept it. "Now, how do I get this blasted helmet off?"

Some others, close by, turned to look at him. He could feel their confusion. Then the helmet seals popped, and he dropped the helmet.

Then he stood, identity revealed, looking straight at General Gol'zan while the large man slowly turned to face him.

"Hello there!"

 

[Ellie Mors]

Ebb and flow, dark and light.

Day.

Night.

The Jedi and Sith danced to this cyclical tune in such predictable fashion, with a break here or there for temporary upstart pretenders aiming to usurp their roles in the eternal galactic dichotomy of right and wrong. As a girl she had watched the fringes of sith lunacy creep into her adopted home world, plaguing their minds with ideas of betrayal and distrust, but it was as an adult that she saw the hypocrisy of the Jedi firsthand, their obsession with a fixed morality and hatred for anything different. The Sith were cruel, they were evil, and they were unabashedly willing to decimate a population to make their point clear - but they owned that hate, flaunted that evil, even as they did good works for their own. As if looking at a mirror and believing themselves to be staring at a window, the Jedi judged their dark sibling as the lesser, as the wrong order, the misunderstanding ideology; they hid their own atrocities, pretended their endless genocides were by rogue elements, that their orders did not preach a dogma of hate to their flock against anyone who thought differently than they - very much the same as their partner opposite them in this tango of fates, blind to this though they may be.

It made sense to her, to Braith, that she would find herself in her meditation pool with the arrival of Jedi and their ilk on the horizon - it was an inevitability she had accepted ever since the day she had been turned away from the Jedi Order of old for her permanent stench of darkness. It would never end - as long as she was here, or there, she would find herself faced with one or the other, pit against a Jedi or a Sith. Long gone were the days without the technology of the modern era, the days of tribalism - simpler times, indeed. Now, as she rose and walked from the placid waters that stretched just barely across the corner of her living space, she found herself reaching for a lightsaber rather than a spear, for the motion sensor that activated the door that led into the barracks hallway rather than a simple handle. It was difficult to adjust, still, despite the decade she'd been living in the present, perhaps even in spite of the people she had chosen to spend her time with.

She could have been with Braxus, or Prazutis as many of the legion in the barracks she shared had known him as, but on her insistence she had kept to herself in silent meditation for much of the week. She had abstained from the invasion of Mandalore and its surrounding bodies, finding disgust in the betrayal of their allies rather than displaying actual superiority by destroying those that had started to drag them down, but now that things had ended and there was little protestations she could make to their subjugation she found herself living among the common soldiers. She told herself, and Braxus, that it was because she wanted to see how the soldiers of the empire compared to those of her tribal brothers and sisters in millennia past, but in truth it was simply to give her room to step in if something more distasteful were to happen in the system. She was certain Braxus knew of her feelings but he had not mentioned it, perhaps trusting her judgement to still align mostly with how the empire was ran, even if she wanted to murder his nephew.

Mid-stride to the entrance of this massive facility she stopped, looking up to the metallic ceiling with an expression of anticipation, as though she could see into the stars above.

"They're here."

The burning crimson of her lightsaber hissed to life, illuminating the golden scales of her orbalisk armor as though coated in the blood it soon would be.

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

 

[Mishel Kryze]

She meditated on the Force and on the events that had led her to this day.

Mishel thought on the words of Darth Carnifex, teachings from Darth Arcanix and even Darth Avacyn. Gone was the talkative Tygaran and in her stead the fighter that Sieger himself once prized the efforts of the First Order had not been in vain after all. There about her laid a stillness so unnatural that it seemed even time moved around Mežsrožu. Mežsrožu that was who was here now, not Mishel for Mishel had long given up this fight. The eye that the Sith Lord had removed glistened with a verdant hue before returning to its sulfuric color a cybernetic eye that mimicked the creature that attempted to latch into Mežsrožu's being. The shuttle jerked forward as it reverted to realspace - Concordia was her destination.

It brought back so many memories - at least the word did. It triggered thoughts of her time with the Knights of Ren and the First Order. A knock to the passenger compartment alerted her to their imminent arrival. Fortress, mines - the equator they were the biggest targets here and yet the score that Mežsrožu had to settle was quite personal. If [member="Romi Jade"] or [member="Coren Starchaser"] dared to show their face then Mežsrožu would find them and they would find her. Until then she ordered the shuttle to wait - wait until one or the other arrived.

 

[Auteme]

Location: Beskar mines
Equipment: "Wait, there was a packing list?"
Tags: [member="Nida Perl"]

Should Auteme have been there? Probably not. Should she have actually come prepared? Definitely. Was she going to die? Hopefully not.

The ride down to the surface was bumpy, and Auteme felt sick every moment of it. Closing her eyes and trying to focus didn't help much; she ended up sensing the laser fire bursting around them, the sound of the small transport's cannons firing away at the enemy.

The enemy. Auteme further regretted coming here. Not just because the Sith were dangerous and brutal -- she knew from experience -- but that she was risking the loss of her own principals and soul by focusing negative emotions against a group she didn't particularly know. War itself felt wrong, but... well, she had a friend here. People she wanted to help, to take care of.

Her eyes swept over the other people on the transport as she felt the ship finally touch down, not too far away from one of the Sith's largest beskar mines here on Concordia. They settled on the Zeltron girl, the other healer in the group, and for a moment the teenager could take comfort in her choice of companions and situation. The Jedi would move quickly, destroy the mines and free any slaves found there. Auteme would do her best to protect and heal those with them.

"Better get going," she muttered, mostly to herself, as the residents of the transport were deployed onto the moon of Mandalore.

Cue nasty war things.

 

[Kiegan Lysle]

Location: En Route to Fortress Imperious
Objective: Cripple the Fortress
Allies: SJO
Enemies: TSE | [member="Heca Foliou"]

It took a second for the young lad to sink in how quickly he had managed to traverse the galaxy since he met the Jedi on Hapes, it had barely been a few months since they saved his neck and now he was travelling to their most hated enemies. Of course Kiegan had heard of the many crimes of the Sith Empire, but he himself had never truly been wronged by them.

Still there could be no good where the Sith stagnated.

His fingers drummed a tune against his blaster as the ship barrelled it's way towards Concordia, still more comfortable with a trusty E-11 than the lightsaber that now lay at his side. Kiegan didn't have the patience of his sister when it came to earning the right to wield such a weapon, the younger Lysle was far more a paragon of virtue than the curly haired Crownsguard but it wasn't like they weren't allowed to just have a lightsaber. Jamie always did make things more complicated than she needed to.

"We'll be dropping soon Jedi, hope you're ready!"

It was still weird to the Hapan to not be part of the common soldiery, though he tried to relish in the opportunity as much as he could. Still he did miss being a soldier, but times were changing and he couldn't let it pass him by.

"I just hope they are too," A cocky laugh came out to try to cover the nerves, gripping his E-11 tightly. "Wouldn't be much fun if they aren't."

Anxiousness was natural when one went out to fight Sith for the first time, their perversion of the force intimidating for even the most stoic of man. He just hoped that it wouldn't be his last time too as he pulled the helmet down over his tied up hair and marched with his troops towards the hangar.

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Location: En Route to Concordia, Fortress Imperious
Objective: Destroy the Fortress and purge the darkside
Allies: SJO
Enemies: TSE

The collective rumbling and coherent vibrations from within drop pods was enough to make a man sick to his stomach. There were many soldiers that fell ill to such conditions and Jeremiah was one of them. All the way down from the start of his drop to the finish it seemed his fortune had been at its highest. There was one fact that hinted to this. He had made it down intact. Now one could argue it was due to the transparent barrier afforded to him by the force but who really believed in hokey religions in this age? A subtle flick of the finger was all the force needed to turn the drop pod door into a weapon of high kinetic energy. Air pressure released in a blast outward freeing an old timer from what felt like a sith tomb.

A tomb that exploded after the man stumbled out several feet.

" Im too old and too sober for this.." He muttered in his breath. Silver Jedi soldiers charged with haste with the rally of a unknown face. With a brow raised the charming smirk Jeremiah was known for appeared. Cold winds nipped at his skin, facial hairs and the glare of the sun reflected bright off the somewhat frosted earth below. Drawing a large pistol from its holster the weapon spun into its owners hand with a firm grasp at hip level. Four inaudible clicks later and the man surrounded by Imperials( [member="Vaulkhar"] ) would suddenly find four bodies on the ground. Their armor cracked or completely shattered from impact.

" Use your head kid, Not your brawn!" Jeremiahs raspy voice threw itself about the area and ended with the simple gesture of his index finger tapping the top of his head.

 

[Tulan Kor]

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En Route to Fortress Imperious

Dorn Company

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Allies: SJO l [member="Amon Vizsla"]
Enemies: Sith Forces
Objective: Search and Destroy, Kill 'Em All
Location: Landing at Fortress Imperious



They would.

They would name it something stupid like Fortress Imperious.

Douchebags.

Tulan felt the impact of the drop, but it was over as soon as it came. The thing he had to worry about more was the returning fire of the defenders- caught off guard, unawares, and unprepared for their raid, their assaulting fires were not as enveloping or damaging as one would normally have. That-

And the Sith didn't think that someone would knock right on their front door.

Tulan swung his machine gun out of the ship and blew apart a Sith trooper running back to his defensive lines. And when he said blew apart- the Sith was going home in express mail packages, not a coffin. Didn't matter to Tulan about where he was- he could give two craps about the Mandalorians. But his boss did. And the boy was angry, the kid wanted blood. So Tulan would help him make a river. Hell, he'd make a canoe out of every Sith's skull for the kid.

The Sith weren't gonna surf anymore, they'd canoe.

He was former Sith himself, he knew how'd they'd react. One Sith, at least. Part of their Recon teams. Then to the Alliance. Then to the Outer Rim for mercenary work. Now back to the Sith-

To kill them.

Gunnery Sergeant Tulan Kor didn't wear a helmet with his Katarn armor- his trademark hat and headset took it's place, he carried a machine gun and a belt of ammo packs around his waist, a backpack full of boom-boom, and Disruptors on his side. But the coup de grace as far as armaments went was the punch-knife on sheathed on his forearm. It was a mean design (whoever thought of putting knuckle dusters at the bottom of a knife was a genius), and he was intent on using it on someone.

But for now, he was happy with cutting down their cannon fodder with his machine gun. Blaster bolts ripped apart dissenting Sith defenders, some carrying lightsabers, some carrying rifles. Tulan cut them down all the same. Their advance to the Fortress Sithjerks wasn't going to be impeded by anything less than divine intervention- the Sith had invoked the wrath of fate and the Reaper himself- and the Reaper sent Tulan Kor as his emissary.

Tulan set up a machine gun position with two other teams, and begin to lay waste to the defenders, providing a basis for the assaulting Silver Jedi forces to gather into their respective assault positions to envelope and damage the enemy as quickly as humanly possible.

The Sith had poked the bear one too many times.

They thought themselves above a check, above retribution.

The Mandalorians were too weak, too fractured by their petty infighting and exiling of their stronger warriors to put up something that resembled a fight.

But if the Galaxy needed to fight-

Well, you know what they say-

Rangers lead the way.

​

 

[Tsyok]

The lift reached its terminus, a pair of heavy turadium doors separating and disappearing into vertical partitions running the length of the wall. Gol'zan stepped out from the lift, walking with long purposeful strides across the grilled metal deck which vibrated in conjunction with the resounding cacophonous booms of the fortress' weapon systems as they swiveled to meet the oncoming enemy. Ranks upon ranks of Legionnaires were awaiting him, resplendent in their newly manufactured Mk. III combat armor which shimmered a deep glossy black. At the head of each platoon was a commander, their rank displayed upon a dark red pauldron draped over their right shoulder.

"Soldiers of the Sith Empire, the enemy is at our gates once more. Your Emperor has entrusted you with the strength to crush all who oppose us, go forth and safeguard the prosperity of the Empire in the name of our Immortal Majesty."

Though not a particularly creative orator, the General's short declaration carried with it the intended effect upon the Legionnaires nonetheless. A brief reaffirmation of their loyalties followed by the sound of hundreds of fists pounding against their chest at once echoed across the hangar, the smooth transition from assembly formation into rapid movement as each platoon boarded their transports quickly clearing out the hangar in a matter of minutes.

Those that remained behind were the officers who served in Gol'zan's personal unit, their armors decorated with the General's own sigil. It was they who turned around at the sound of the newcomer, their expressions wary but controlled.

"Hello there!"

Gol'zan was the last to face the Jedi, his sulfuric yellow eyes narrowing in recognition. "Master Sar'andor, you are a bold one. The Emperor will reward me generously if I bring you to him alive, but he will understand if I bring him your broken corpse all the same." The General disengaged the lightsaber that hunt around his waist, a large and imposing weapon perfectly suited to his grip. His thumb triggered the activator, sparking to life a three meter long blade of crackling scarlet energy that hummed and hissed in anger.

And then he attacked, the metal floor warping in as the General propelled himself forward like a viper striking at prey, his weapon lashing out with frightening intensity towards the Jedi's neck.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]​

 

[Valin Stryder]

For Valin, this was one of his first encounters with the Jedi, it wouldn't have been a surprise given that even he used to walk among them. Now he was here at the Equator, along with the likes of [member="Kalt Bruq"] The Devaronian Acolyte, while the Zabrak himself knew that the Jedi would predictably come to the Concordia's Equator, he had already begun to prepare, with several markings inscribing that of a Sith Ritual. As a Novice with his dark gifts. He did not carry a Lightsaber, as his time went studying the ancient secrets of the Sith, Sorzus Syn, Freedon Nadd, Exar Kun, Darth Sidious. The likes of that were experts in Sith Magic, while Valin had been occupied with his talents regarding the Future, which he saw bits and pieces of imagery which had led him to this path on this day of course, but even he recognized that he didn't have a total view of what would transpire.

He spoke in the ancient tongue of the Sith, as the Jedi and their ilk made there way. His voice was dark, chilling as the tongue of the Sith envoked dark evil, dark spirits that led to the passageways of hell. The more he spoke, the more he had his hand covered in the red ink of the symbol he had made on the floor. Kalt already brandished his saber. While Valin was unarmed, he was not defenseless as the dark side was all that one needed. Such weapons could be done without. The sign on the floor began to glow with every word,

Soon a shield of darkness enveloped the two, forming a barrier between them and likes of the Jedi, feeling someone he had not sensed in a long time, for a moment, waves of darkness emerged from the shield that covered the two acolytes, attacking the first wave of enemies that came to their way. Force only knows what would come next.

[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[BobertEZ]

***Location: Fortress Imperious, Concordia
Objective: Prepare Defenses
Star Date: c. 859
Allies: TSE
Enemies: [member="Vaulkhar"] | SJO***
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIoILN_KrhU&list=PL9146BDACDA5C450A&index=5&t=0s

The storm had come that day. Not a storm of winds and rain. Not a storm of ice and snow. It was a storm of swords, of blades clashing, of plasma bolts careening into men and women scant of age. Where Lorale once would have felt joy and jubilation in the slaying of these people regardless of age, they now carved their way into the ranks of the Jedi in silent contemplation. Why had they come here? They were not Mandalorian. This wasn't their home. Were they simply seeking vengeance? This was not the Jedi way, yet many in the galaxy were falling into strange times. And so, Lorale contemplated, like a muse sitting upon a throne of history and heuristics.

However, Lorale knew that contemplation was pointless in these times of great violence. Only the blade mattered. Only the logic of the sword. And what a blade they swung against the scores of Jedi that attempted to cut the Phoenix down. It was massive in both width and length and beyond sharp, and for anyone within reason it would have been impossible to swing with the rapidity that Lorale swung. It was light, much lighter than one would believe and traversed through the air like a speeder, most certainly due to the improbable strength and speed of its wielder.

Imposing, demonic, hellish. These were the terms that ran through the minds of the Jedi and cannon fodder NFU soldiers that fell to the Phoenix's blade, blood seeping into the mountain snow in puddles of crimson and creaks of maroon. Already was the Sith Lord drenched in the blood of nearly two dozen that lay in pieces across the mountain side, so close yet so far from their goal.

Meanwhile, Kascalion began perfecting his new style, striking with his saber and blasting his pistol in rapid succession, cutting down at least seven soldiers and two Jedi. Tiyra herself had become a red blur streaking across the ice and snow, incapacitating and bisecting foes like fresh bread on a marble plate.

Yet, this success was not without loss. Many Imperials and fellow Sith who fought on the mountainside fell just as quickly, blasted and dismembered numbers amongst the mass, spurring on their allies for revenge and sorrow. Lorale had seen a few acquaintances fall, and more than once did they reach out and recognize an Imperial that had served at some point aboard the Ruthless Vanguard.

"Regretful waste," they muttered to themselves before cutting a masked Knight across the chest, their snapped bones and split organs spilling out like a fruit basket. "Pointless invasions of sanctity. Perversions of the Logic. Kascalion was right all along, I suppose."

And then they sensed him. The Son of Carnifex. The Slayer of the Puppet Raptious. Vaulkhar. Hissing, Lorale sent the gargantuan blade deep into the rock bed and stood motionless, scanning the battlefield through the Force. Looking-searching-seeking. For the Slayer. For the Traitor.

"Where are you?" they whispered through the threads of reality, hoping the words would reach the man's ears. "Where are you?"

Five yards, in a crowd, cutting through foes like they were butter. A faint smile crossed Lorale's lips as they gripped the handle of their blade. Five seconds. Four seconds. Three seconds. Two seconds. Charge. The Phoenix's feet left the snow with disgusting speed, the blade dragging behind them through the rock and stone, sparks flying like insects. Vaulkhar drew into sight and with speed nearly imperceptible, Lorale swung the blade up into the air and downward towards the Traitor.

"Die."

 

[Rupert Kingswood]

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Location: Landing at Fort Imperious​

Allies: SJO | GySgt [member="Tulan Kor"] | CPT [member="Amon Vizsla"]​

Enemies: TSE Scum​

Objective: Search, Destroy, Kill​

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Another crazy adventure with Dorn Company. That's how it always starts.

He landed along with the others, the small skirmish already unfolding right in front of him. His Katarn Commando helmet lay hooked on his side as he made sure his rifle is battle ready. It was shiny, almost as if it was new straight from the armory. A fresh magazine was already loaded into the firearm and the slide was already pulled back. The safety was on, and ready to switch off at any time.

"Landing in 60 seconds!"

Corporal Kingswood unhooked his helmet off of his belt and placed snugly on top of his head. He pushed it down so it could cover his face. The blue light of the visor flicked on as it had done so many times before. The scars and cracks had remained from previous battles. A symbol of his fighting ability and prowess of the battlefield. The landing zone could be seen through the windows, the HUDs popping up accordingly.

"Touching down! Once the door drops, get off. Good luck Rangers!"

The grip Kingswood had on his rifle grew stronger. The transport ship dropped down and landed with a thud. As the door started to lower, the sunlight was brighter than a flashlight right in front of one's eyes. The visor adjusted to the light, yet Kingswood still covered his eyes. The door landed on the ground and he quickly rushed outside of the transport ship. The sound of blaster bolts flying and explosions in the distant gave the corporal a sense of delight. Music to the ears. He put himself behind of a metal barrier that was placed conveniently on the battlefield. Kingswood looked down through the sights of the rifle and began to pick off Sith troopers, making them fall one by one.

He waited for further orders as the onslaught began. Jedi vs Sith.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Armored Shuttle Deliverance​

Low Orbit - Concordia​

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Things were wrong in the Force. The Sith were still out there, gaining footholds around the galaxy. While the Outer Rim was working to do what they could, but even the relative peace the Rim afforded, especially with the reclamation of Sullust for the flock he was guarding, there were problems in the galaxy. The Silver Jedi, following on torches he lit, were gathering the Jedi and making the moves towards the Core. Starchaser himself was there, at times, but he was more allowing the new generation to lead the charge. He had people to protect now.

The Alliance Remnant, the Coalition, Celeste… And his students.

The one who he felt could handle herself, and hadn’t called for help. The one he had lost. Linking up with [member="Romi Jade"] for this operation, he was flying in on the coat tails of the Silver Jedi and their Rangers, to the world of Concordia. He had checked in with the Rangers, he was on their battlefield after all. The armored shuttle heading towards the planet.

An old Mando world. What sort of horrors awaited on this world? Horrors beyond @Mishel Noren.

 

[Kaleleon]

Location: En Route to Concordia, the Fortress Moon
Objective: Shut down the Weaponized Equator.
Allies: Silver Jedi Order, [member="Jeremiah Jade"], [member="Vaulkhar"],
Enemies: The Sith Empire,
Gear: Armor, Gloves, Lightsaber, Pistol.

Drop pods. Not the fondest way of travel. How could I know? Currently in one at the moment. Holding on with white knuckles for dear life as it shook violently. While at first it was not that big of a deal, it was quickly coming to a realization, that the reason people used these, was because they were quick and efficient. Not that they were comfortable. At all. Even as I was holding on with all of my might, I remembered what I was told before entering.

Once I landed, I needed to move fast. They would be shooting at me before I even left the pod, and would likely be charging me. Secondly, I needed to be prepared for this full on fight. This would not be some small fight or duel against an opponent. A full battle would be where your back would always be exposed. So finding allies to team up with, or at least be able to coordinate with is a must for me. As much as I was a good student, I was just that. A student. No grand Warrior of the Jedi Order, or some super soldier. Flashes to the last major fight I had which ended up very poorly, brought back to me how "human" I am and how mortal I was. Looking through the visor of my armor, I could see on the door the controls. All of them spinning wildly at the distance we were entering the planet. And by We, I mean me, alone, in a drop pod, while others were in the same situation. Closing my eyes, I only just wished for impact of the ground to come faster and faster so I wouldn't be suspended in air. Open to attack.

No wonder why soldiers changed. No wonder why people were different after training. Hell, After seeing my father only a month ago, He told me that I was different. While I looked the same as I had left, he did speak about how my hands were coarse and rough. How I stood taller that he could actually tell that I was ever so slightly taller than him now, and with my physical changes to my body. Instead of some lean farmer, I had the physique that matched with the Paladins of Adamite Tower, or the Champions of the villages. He told me he was scared of what I had become. Scared, but proud. Proud that I had come so far from where I was, but scared about the changes happening in such a short time since I had left. He didn't expect to see me for years. Yet I had only been gone about a year. That one year completely changed me.

Soldiers changing from the stress of battle, training, and literally seeing your friends die, or killing others... it could ruin a man.

It all just kind of clicked right now, as I am falling from the sky, down towards a planet, about to be attacking the Sith in an attempt to take out their fortifications and weapons. Shaking my head to physically get rid of the thoughts, I tried to focus on what was going on. To rid my mind of distractions, I started the breathing techniques I had been taught. Breathing in for three seconds, then releasing the air over three more. Pulling in another breath for four seconds, slowly releasing it over four seconds.

Five seconds, over five,
Six over Six.

Finally coming to a full ten seconds of breathing in and releasing it over ten, I started to feel better, when on cue, I smacked hard into the ground. It was sudden and I wasn't paying attention to the window to see how close I was. All I could remember for a few seconds was breathing, then black. silence. No sounds, no shaking. Just bliss. However, that quickly ended with the sounds of gunfire. Explosions, and yelling in the communication systems. Groaning from the sudden stop to the drop pod, I took off the harnesses that held me in the seat. Reaching up and making sure I had everything I needed. This time, only carrying a Lightsaber and a blaster side arm with me.

Pulling on the emergency latch that shot the canopy off of the drop pod, It flew up into the air and away from my vision. Getting out, I crawled out and almost felt my food come up. Swallowing it back down as I was wearing a helmet with armor, I steeled myself against performing that action, and activated my saber. Seeing that people were already charging forward. However, out of all of that, I picked out the one man I never thought I would have to see again.

Vaulkhar.

Of all of the people I could have matched up, I did not expect to be close to him. Shaking my head, I ran after him. Shutting the saber off for now that way I didn't trip on something and slice myself in half. Knowing how accident prone I was, that would be an extremely stupid way to go out.