Private Perihelion [ NIO | GA ]

[Irveric Tavlar]

OCCUPIED NIO SPACE // DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR
IN ORBIT // MUUNILINST
Immediately following the conclusion of the Siege of Mygeeto and Muunilinst

C L O N E

The first shot fired and made purchase in victory. The first ground conquered under New Imperial boots, the first worlds liberated from the ilk of darkness. Though even as the last of the Sith-Imperial remnants were captured and pressed into service or left to far worse fates based on their ability to comply and defect there was little time to revel in this victory. Bastion grew closer and with it the decisive strike which may decide the fate of this existential conflict. What the New Imperial Order lacked in manpower and supplies they made up for in grit, tenacity, toughness and persistence. It showed in spades on the battlefields of Muunilinst and the high rising bridges of Mygeeto.

Even so...it was still only part way to the final victory the New Imperials marched toward on the Braxant Run to Sith-Imperial crown world of Bastion. Above the shattered space hulks of star destroyers and other knocked out ships being harvested of their raw materials by New Imperial YX-48 Industrial Freighters, the High Command of both the coalition between the New Imperial Order and Galactic Alliance were asked to come aboard the pride of the Armada, Dissident Aggressor or patch in via hologram to lay out the next stage of the war effort.

In the command center beneath the central bridge of the Star Dreadnough, the Sovereign Imperator stood in waiting, the room dimmed down and illuminated if only by the sector scale holomap displayed over the table in front of him. The cold florescence of the bright blue and red lights did all but unsheathe the mask of the darkness which concealed the newfound blaster burns and bludgeoning bruises which marred his face from his encounter with Cara Dorniarn at the onset of the battle. In a stark contrast to the several upstart Imperial warlords whose wake he marched in the shadow of, he was not so fortunately relegated to the dance of starships. His origins, his domain of war was on the surface, in the city streets and in the open fields. A far harsher and far more perilous venue.

Centered within the holomap, the world of Dubrillion. Another overextension of capability that might threaten to strain the apparatus of war within the allied coalition but in the end, the entirety of this war was a gamble with the very existence of this Imperial coalition on line. For as risky as their plans seemed to be, the Galactic Alliance had to respect that the existence of the New Imperial project was on the line here while the Alliance subjugated and stabilized the core. At least, Irveric could only hope.

"We're at about two thirds if the projections from Mygeeto are anything to go off, sir." Konrad Bolter uttered to the Sovereign Imperator, offering a datapad to the Dantooinian to read over, clad in his rarely donned Imperial military uniform which mirrored that of Tavlar save for the difference in color from stone to black and the trimming from the fieldgrey of the army and armored assault corps to the red of the Stormtrooper corps. The very legions which Tavlar set about establishing, both of the branches mirrored from how himself and the traitor Sith Lord in Kor Vexen operated during their tenure as Sith Imperial commanders.

"Not ideal...but the longer we wait the more the Sith can consolidate for a counter attack and close off the salient we've opened." Irveric muttered in reply, priming to speak once again before he glanced up to either a holographic projection coming into view of the door leading into this room sliding open to reveal the next arrival into this meeting of High Command.

NIO // Tyrell Paxxus | Darth Bellum | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Bastard | Lucien Dooku | Warchief Waddles
TGA // Dracken Pryce | Cassius Callaesar | Ryv | Republic Engineering

 

[Dracken Pryce]

NIO OCCUPIED SPACE / / ANV Starchild II - Captain's Quarters
IN ORBIT / / Muunilinst
Immediately following the battle of Muunilinst

Pryce sighed heavily as he stared at the monitor on his desk. He'd finished and sent off his mission report back to Coruscant an hour ago, debriefed his captains and assessed losses three hours ago, and had even managed to grab a meal while working on all of this and preparing for his first meeting with the New Imperial Order military leaders. None of this had caused him to pause, none of it had made him uneasy. It was just work after all. War. What he stared at now though...A blank text page of what should have been his message to Ava Cartwright-Pryce telling her that he was okay, that they'd won the battle. But what did he say after that? The text reticle blinked over and over, reminding him again and again that he should have something to say to the mother of his children. But he couldn't find the words. The door chime dinged, snapping him out of his trance.

"Come in," he said. Rear Admiral D'nar, the Starchild's Zygerian commander entered. His cat-like eyes narrowed curiously at the Admiral. It took a moment for Pryce to understand why and not until he looked at the chrono on his desk. The meeting with the NIO was in a few minutes and while D'nar was dressed to the nines in his Alliance Navy uniform, Pryce was in Alliance athletic wear.

"Garvey! Why didn't you ping me!"

"Didn't want to interrupt your love letter home, sir!" came the disembodied response. Pryce cursed.

"I'll be waiting in the hangar," D'nar said before nodding and leaving the Admiral to get dressed.

NIO OCCUPIED SPACE / / Dissident Agressor
IN ORBIT / / Muunilinst
Immediately following the battle of Muunilinst

When the shuttle pulled away from the Starchild and his fleet came into view he felt his stomach sink. Around the Starchild floated at least half a dozen fleet tenders and smaller support or construction vehicles. Supply tankers and tug ships moved hunks of Sith, Alliance, and Imperial wrecks back and forth as repair crews attempted to fix the battle damage. Garvey assured him that the Starchild would make a full recovery before the next move but the fleet was looking to be in rough shape. The Skyhook too had taken damage in the battle. Though they managed to capture it before it was completely destroyed, the Sith had begun to fire on it if only to deny it to the Allied Forces. Combined they barely had fleets large enough to stand up to the military-industrial machine of the Sith Empire and it was showing plain as day here. D'nar clapped him on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod.

The hangar of the massive dreadnaught. While racks of TIEs lined both sides of the hangar and up above, dozens of ground assault vehicles lined the floors and dozens of shuttles awaited fresh troops to replace those on the ground on Muunilinst. The Sith had retreated their fleet and the capital was theirs but fighting still continued. The Halcyon commando that walked flanking Pryce and his second-in-command whistled low.

"You could probably fit two or three cruisers in here," Pryce muttered. They were met on the deck by Imperial Order stormtroopers who led the trio to the meeting room. They'd tried to assure their guard that the titan Corellian shock trooper didn't need the heavy blaster rifle he cradled in his arms, but that had only made the man grip it tighter. The three of them entered the room, illuminating the room with the hall's light. Pryce offered a salute to the Sovereign Imperator as did the Zygerian and Halcyon Commando before they filed into the room, taking places around the holoprojector. They were both wearing Alliance Navy grey-blue officer uniforms, their ranks displayed prominently on their chests, not unlike many other navies. Pryce though also wore a shoulder pauldron, a display of his honorary rank of General in the Corellian Defense Force.

"Sovereign Imperator, it is good to finally meet you in the flesh. I'm the High Admiral assigned to the 3rd Fleet," he gestured to the Zygerian standing beside him, "And this is my flag ship's commander, Rear Admiral D'nar" The Zygerian bowed his head and offered a few words of greeting. His ancestors would be rolling int heir graves if they knew he was aboard an Imperial vessel. How many Corellians had died, or been pressed into service like himself by the Sith over the last few decades? He tried not to think about it. He trusted Tagge and Tagge trusted this Sith Imperial Rebel and that's all that mattered until the man gave him reason to think otherwise.

"This is quite the ship."

Irveric Tavlar Darth Bellum Imperial Warlord Zovesa Bastard Lucien Dooku Tyrell Paxxus
Cassius Callaesar Ryv Republic Engineering

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Anaxes // Anaxes Station // Sector Command Center
High Admiral Callaesar's Office​

​

With tensions high across the Defense Force outposts of the Brentaal Quarantine Zone, the news of victory against the Sith Empire over Muunilinst and Mygeeto had been met with some much needed cheer. Typically, the High Admiral would have been quick to remind those under his command to stay vigilant and not let the news go to their head, but the troops needed a break from the constant worry of what might horrors might be brewing and waiting for them in the nearby Brentaal system.

Having conceded leadership of the Alliance's forces on the Sith-Imperial front to High Admiral Pryce so that he may hold the line against the festering wound of Chaos growing on the border of his home sector, Cassius joined the meeting via holo-projection from his office on Anaxes Station.

Dressed in his Defense Force naval officer's uniform proudly adorned with his Starbird award ribbon and gold-pipped insignia plaque, a pale blue image of the Anaxsi High Admiral stands at the opposite side of the holomap from Pryce. Having already been in the room, he gives his colleague a subtle nod when he and the Rear Admiral arrive.

Cassius taps a finger on his bicep while standing with his arms crossed, looking at the projection of Dubrillion above them. He wasn't particularly familiar with the planet, aside from its proximity to Bastion. They were drawing near.

He chews on his lip at the thought. Would they really -- finally -- see an end to the Empire? It was almost too hard to imagine.

"...the longer we wait the more the Sith can consolidate for a counter attack and close off the salient we've opened."​

The Anaxsi's eyes shift from the map to the flickering projection of the Sovereign Imperator visible to him, "Have your intelligence agencies gathered anything that might suggest a counterattack is being prepared?"

 

[Bastard]

// Nephilim //
// In Orbit // Muunilist // Dissident Aggressor //
// Post Schism's Dawn //

​

Perhaps a surprise to some, Imperial Knight Errant Varanin arrived before the other delegates of the New Imperial Order. Those who knew of the young up and comer were fully aware of his perfect service record to the Force Corps and the NIO as a whole. While he lacked the experience of his master, High Knight Imperial Warlord Zovesa , and her many commanders, Errant more than made up for it in skill and sense of duty. The son of two powerful masters, the young Echani, was well into his second decade of training to one day master the cosmic power, as both his mother and father before him. A skilled duelist, a budding mentalist, and aspiring leader, Errant Varanin showed promise not unexpected for one of his proud lineage. He bore such a weight well, seemingly unphased by the daunting task before him, whether it be war with the craven Sith Empire, or his right to one day rule Eshan. Errant was a child of destiny, fated for greatness long before he'd ever taken his first breath.

As Dracken Pryce presented himself to the Sovereign-Imperator, Errant remained silent. He moved across the room, taking up his customary position as if Zovesa had already arrived. The Imperial Knight's eyes narrowed, orbs of molten gold searching the man's being for even a slight show of hostility. Through the force, the young Echani prodded the man's emotions and mind, reading beyond simple body language and tone of voice. It didn't take long for Errant to realize this Pryce character lacked dangerous intent, his presence there more than just a show of faith by the Galactic Alliance, but also a display of comradery the Imperial hadn't expected. Born to a Queen, Errant understood the necessity of order. If left to their own devices, so many devolved into a state of chaos. The galaxy mirrored such, as it lacked the guidance of those meant to rule. Many who believed in the ideals of democracy stood for freedom above all else, believing them greater than peace through ultimate order. Such a thought left a bad taste in the young man's mouth, one he willed away as he focused elsewhere in the room. Specifically that of a flickering projection.

Though not joining them physically, another of the Alliance's Admirals appeared interested in the affair. Cassius Callaesar pressed for information quickly, unwilling to waste time or resources in the face of potential danger. Errant couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Each of them, from the Sovereign-Imperator to the Admirals across from him, were men of action. The galaxy shaped them from the innocent and bare, thrust into the world decades before, into weapons of war and minds meant to wield them. In the briefest of moments since meeting them, they'd earned his respect. Errant could only assume, had his father still been alive, he'd of felt the same as his wayward son.

"If I may," Errant cleared his throat as he took a step forward. "While I am unaware of any information gathered thus far, I have studied the Sith Empire's history regarding war. In many cases, they are the aggressors—Mandalore beneath Yasha Cadera and Kintan controlled by the Silver Jedi Order being the most recent examples. However, a trend has appeared throughout their decade of life, not unsurprising given their very nature. In an instance where they are attacked first, they seek retribution. When the Network attempted to retake Mandalore, they struck out against Australis' remnants now holding Weyland. When they failed to capture Mandalore in their initial sweep of the planet, they returned after the Mandalorian's retreat. It should only be assumed a force with superior numbers and resources would strike out for vengeance after losing not one, but two prominent sectors within their Sith-Imperial Banking Clan territories. My recommendation," Errant turned to look back at the Sovereign-Imperator, dipping his head in respect. "Would be to assume an attack is coming whenever they can muster a response, and if their history has proven anything, the Sith are prepared to throw away the lives of millions at the drop of a credit."

The Imperial Knight stepped back after his interjection, falling silent again. Once others arrived, the likelihood he'd see an opportunity to speak up was slim to none. Better to be heard now, than be without a voice for the entirety of the meeting.

Irveric Tavlar // Dracken Pryce // Cassius Callaesar
Darth Bellum // Lucien Dooku // Tyrell Paxxus // Warchief Waddles // Republic Engineering​

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

---

Imperial Force Corps Forward Operating Base HQ
Southern Mesas, Mygeeto
Immediately After the Siege of Mygeeto

---

“What do you think your doing?” said Dr. Kalassa.

The Arch Asklepion, head of the Force Corps’ Force Medical Wing, placed his hands on his hips, ruffling his long white robe. The Miralukan titled his head to the side and twisted his lips in a frown as he watched his battered and broken patient force herself to stand. She was flanked by two Nurse Hospitallers, combat force medics, who each held to Kalassa’s patient by the arm. Her patient, the High Knight Marshal of the Force Corps was a mess. During the battle with a Sith Lady, she had exerted herself well beyond her limits. Before that, a large piece of shrapnel nearly caved her chest in and had caused internal bleeding. Bacta tank baths were not enough and Kalassa had to unleash his powers of Force Healing to mend the rest.

“You can barely stand,” Kalassa protested, “Do you think you can stand for hours on end for a meeting?”

Zovesa blinked at Kalassa and continued wincing in pain as she craned her body to stand up straight. Everything was in pain. Every breath made her lungs ache and cause her to vomit up hacking coughs. Her muscles screamed burning reverberations and induced minor spasms in the tips of her fingers and in the thighs of her legs. The Chiss exhaled a heaving sigh, trying to use Force breathing exercises to regulate the pain and ease the strain on her war torn frame. She took in a painful breath and closed her eyes to demand composure before staring down the Miralukan.

“Just patch me through, Kalassa,” Zovesa growled.

Kalassa dropped his hands from his hips and turned to press a set of commands into a portable holo-projector table. As it booted up, Kalassa beckoned FX-22, a FX series medical assistant droid, over. The black domed column of a droid scooted over to Kalassa. On its many mechanical limbs was a Bacta and IV infused drip bag. Kalassa took the other end and pierced the needle extension into Zovesa’s organic arm. Zovesa looked down at Kalassa as he was bent over applying the bag. She wanted to say something but, she held it in. She had to conform to the image she had cultivated for her men, she was the rock of the Force Corps. If she broke, they would too. There was no room for resting at the moment. With the bag applied, the droid stood behind Zovesa. The two Hospitallers, slowly nudged away knowing that Zovesa would wish not to be seen propped up.

Zovesa however could not hide the battle scars she had accrued. Her face was bandaged with small stitches that and sewn together cut flesh across her forehead, lips and cheeks. Her cybernetic arm was missing. To hide this, her large military over coat was draped over her shoulders hiding her missing arm. Beneath she wore the tight black armorweave body suit of a stormtrooper. Only her legs were still encased in the white armor of a Force Knight. In an unusual choice however, Zovesa, dark blue mane was pulled back into a single tail. All of this was projected across lightyears to the Sovereign Imperator’s ship the Dissident Aggressor. The High Knight Marshal appeared in a blue haze, vibrating, and rattling with static until the feed connection stabilized. Projecting her battle weary visage to the gathered.

She appeared beside Bastard . Knowing, that she would be taken to recuperating, she had sent her bright squire to be there ahead of her entrance. He was sharp. Too sharp for his own good at times. But, a promising Knight that she had every confidence in. When she made contact, she turned and gave Varanin a broken smile from her scarred lips before killing it and presenting the cold stony stare everyone had come to associate with the High Knight Marshal of the New Imperial Force Corps. Her eyes scanned the gathered until she caught her reds with the dim brooding glares of the Imperator. With shaking hands, ringing with spasming stress, Zovesa presented a fragile salute.

“High Knight Marshal Zovesa, your excellency,” Zovesa said, unable to hide the pain in her voice.

“Reporting.”

---

Tags:
Irveric Tavlar // Dracken Pryce // Cassius Callaesar
Darth Bellum // Lucien Dooku // Tyrell Paxxus // Warchief Waddles // Republic Engineering

---

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

"Sovereign Imperator, it is good to finally meet you in the flesh. I'm the High Admiral assigned to the 3rd Fleet,"

"This is quite the ship."

"Likewise, though you needn't introduce yourself. The reports of the initial assault on Muunilinst served well enough as an appraisal of your merit, Admiral. We needed you." Irveric stated in outright candidness. He would see the achievements of his comrades, Alliance or Imperial be so quietly snuffed out as his were in the service to the Sith Empire. He had sacrificed himself time over and it showed in the buried marks and scars into his body and he was rewarded only more obligation. Though in the end this frigid silence only paid dividends in spilled blood and wasted sweat against the combined bulwark of New Imperials and Alliance will.

"The first Dreadnought of our armada. Though it was a costly endeavor it was one that should ideally make itself back in time. The Sith have nearly a dozen in their combined fleets, though as much as we sought to prioritize resources elsewhere...we needed something to match their firepower." Irveric states, though he was no authority on the matters of Naval warfare. He had been raised amidst blood and smoke as a Sith Imperial Legionnaire and the commander to the first crop of the reformed Stormtrooper corps. His arena was one much more visceral than Pryce or the other Alliance admiral who had arrived via hologram from Anaxes.

Just as he was prepared to reply to the Anaxian's inquiry, Errant shot up in an eager response. A brazen move perhaps as a Knight initiate to the Force Corps to potentially steal the words from the New Imperial Supreme Commander but all the same, Tavlar was content to remain in silence and let the boy speak his piece. If he was as much the prodigy as both Knight Commander Wymar and Imperial Warlord Zovesa claimed him to be, he had no reason to raise the alarm over what his sentiment might be.

"If I may,"

"While I am unaware of any information gathered thus far, I have studied the Sith Empire's history regarding war. In many cases, they are the aggressors—Mandalore beneath Yasha Cadera and Kintan controlled by the Silver Jedi Order being the most recent examples. However, a trend has appeared throughout their decade of life, not unsurprising given their very nature. In an instance where they are attacked first, they seek retribution. When the Network attempted to retake Mandalore, they struck out against Australis' remnants now holding Wayland. When they failed to capture Mandalore in their initial sweep of the planet, they returned after the Mandalorian's retreat. It should only be assumed a force with superior numbers and resources would strike out for vengeance after losing not one, but two prominent sectors within their Sith-Imperial Banking Clan territories. My recommendation,"

"Would be to assume an attack is coming whenever they can muster a response, and if their history has proven anything, the Sith are prepared to throw away the lives of millions at the drop of a credit."

He was learning well enough. As soon as he'd finished speaking his gaze shifted to the shimmering blue holographic form of the Chiss Knight Marshal. The title of Excellency immediately off put him but he'd knew far too well it was the nature of Zovesa to indulge in formalities. Though a term such as that elevated Irveric past the Supreme Commander role he'd fashioned himself into contrasted to something far more regal, a trait which he'd never pretended to exhibit. Even still, he offered a brief nod.

"Knight Marshal. Good to see you're well enough to join us..." Irveric acknowledged.

"Knight Varanin speaks the truth...at least as far as the Sith Empire as I know it is concerned. Though mustering a response will be difficult for them. The Sith had been unimpeded for some time now and each ripple of struggle has only served to sow dissent within its ranks. As Errant did, you might recall the excursion into the Silver Jedi territory of Kintan. A similar host was mustered there as one was stationed to assail us along the Braxant Run, they lost there as they lost here and from that defeat came our Order. As potent as a war machine the Sith Empire wields, so too do the flaws of its leaders inhibit its effectiveness." Irveric stated coldly. He'd seen it far too well in the flesh at Kintan and even the defense at Mandalore where strained lines of supply and tactical scale blunders at the former and miscommunication to the point of lethal friendly fire at the latter showed the chinks in the armor of the Sith-Imperial Armed Forces. Far before he ever faced them as adversaries, Irveric was well aware that the Empire was not invincible.

"Even so, they still possess the instruments of command capable of cutting off our advance. Their avenue would have to come through Borosk. Even prior to our occupation, it served as a fortress world to the Fel Empire to guard the Braxant Run to the crown world of Bastion. We may very well see history repeat itself in a Sith counter-offensive. Though our combined intelligence efforts within the crimson report an immediate gathering of many of the Sith High Command and other prominent figures within the Empire. " Irveric says firmly, his lone weary gaze settling on the projection of Dubrillion displayed in front of them once more.

"Should it go anything like the last attempt to consolidate the Sith Order, it likely will be fruitless or even detrimental to the Zambrano regime. Regardless, this is no cause for any illusions of reprieve. We must press the advantage. As of now their formations around the Braxant Run are shifting to refit and reinforce and thus I believe we need to advance deeper along the route. Dubrillion. Should we capture this world, it will allow us the presence in the sector to acquire the driveyards in Jaemus to reinforce our weak points along the front...and finally...establish a staging point from which we can lay siege to the throne world of Bastion. Perhaps overstretching the potential of our combined force...but even still, a critical and decisive blow." Irveric says if only to stress the gravity of the campaign's next phase. A risk and so too was anything this coalition had embarked upon at this point.

// NIO // Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Darth Bellum | Bastard | Lucien Dooku | Warchief Waddles | Tyrell Paxxus
// TGA // Dracken Pryce | Cassius Callaesar | Ryv | Republic Engineering

 

[Warchief Waddles]

// JUGGERNAUT//
// LOCATION// Dissident Aggressor

---

---

Feet clicking on the floors of the Dissident Aggressor, Isaiah kept his eyes peeled. Despite the assurances of the Sons of Mandalore, Isaiah just couldn’t bring himself to truly be comfortable among the imperials. Once upon a time the Mandalorian’s considered Imperials allies, what came to happen was they were betrayed. Time and time again his people were turned on by those who offered one hand in peace, while the other held a dagger. Honeyed words, promises, all covers for true intentions that lay beneath the surface.

In truth the meeting taking place was meant more so for someone like Kestus Bralor , he was the political one, the wise one. Kestus had people to tend to and words to be had with the other Sons after the Battle of Weyland. Precious numbers lost in the wake of Sith tyranny. That tyranny, the want to see his people freed and their land returned is what drove Isaiah. What made him set aside his current mistrust, all in the name of a brighter future.

Having just made his way back from Weyland, Isaiah hadn’t taken any time to change. The armor he wore was marked with carbon scoring, fresh cuts marred the warriors face, some having scabbed over, one on his right cheek slightly festering. Those peridot eyes scanned over the Imperial troopers that moved to and fro through the halls of the destroyer, taking them in just as they did him.

Surrounding Isaiah on all sides was a contingent of Novatroopers that led the Mandalorian to the meeting chamber. Perhaps the Imperials didn’t trust the Mandalorians all too much either? Or maybe they thought Isaiah would be lost. As they reached the chamber entrance the troopers spread apart, creating an opening for the Son of Mandalore. Without question, Isaiah stepped forward, in the crook of one arm sat the shattered helmet he’d worn into battle. The other hand rested on his hip.

Behind Isaiah the door hissed closed sealing him in with the others. While the Imperator spoke, the Mandalorian made his way around the holotable where the others gathered. Reaching a point where his back was comfortably to a wall and where he could see the entrance, Isaiah settled in. While Tavlar spoke, Isaiah constantly eyed the map, a faint nudging at the back of his mind as if he were forgetting something. Something or a place he hadn’t been but had heard of. Then it hit him.

Waiting for the Imperator to finish, Isaiah straightened. “If you seek to go further down the Braxant run there is another nearby system that perhaps would work as a distraction.” Tapping on his wrist and inputting the coordinates, from Isaiah’s gauntlet another hologram, far smaller, joined near Dubrillion.

“Echoy'la, perhaps the only known planet outside of the Mandalorian space to hold Beskar, and other Mandalorians. They just finished with other rogue Mandalorian elements.” Saying that sentence made the warrior nearly gag. The Network weren’t Mandalorians, nor would they ever be seen as such in his eyes. They’d forgotten their roots, forgotten their culture, and had become cowards.

“If there seems to be another uprising they’ll be quick to quell it with a show of force, splitting their forces and taking some of their attention off Dubrillion.”

// NIO // Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Bastard | Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus

// GA // Dracken Pryce | Cassius Callaesar | Ryv | Republic Engineering

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

Tyrell moved forward in a slight rush with an uneven, haggard stride. Tapping upon the metallic floor resonated rhythmically down the halls between the clamor of boot and cane. The venerable Vizier vied against his old injury, moving quicker than what was allowed within physical comfort. Officers snapped to attention and saluted as he passed. Each of them acknowledging him by rank as he passed. His usual MO of measured acknowledgment was exchanged for small nods and brief eye-contact. The meeting had begun some twenty-minutes ago, and Tyrell was late.

The engagement over Mygeeto wasn't without its bumps, but more or less played out better than Tyrell had anticipated over. Losses may have exceeded initial projections, but the overall success of the offensive blockade was far beyond what they'd considered 'best case'. With the denial of Sith-Imperial reinforcements and full air-support, it set the siege on the fast track to victory while minimizing the loss of infantry and ground assets. Unfortunately, the Vizier admiral's fleet ultimately paid the price to keep the ground operation stable.

Tyrell stepped onto the transit-platform to the Dissident Aggressor's command-center after a hurried trudge through the ship's interior. The ground beneath him shifted as the platform began its mechanical expedition. Staring at the metallic sliding doors aimlessly, the unsettling memory of his encounter with 'Lord Aagenti' replayed in his head. Hate, fear, all the primal emotions he'd felt when their minds interlinked for even the briefest moment still felt alien in their intensity, even as a memory. The young man Sith's face remained solid into his memory like an after-image burned into his own retinae.

The sudden hiss and clank of the double-doors sliding open to reveal the dimly lit command-center snapped him out of his disgusted reminiscence. He snapped to an upright posture and made his way in, stopping to salute as he reached the others. "I apologize for my tardiness, we encountered a lingering field of interdictor mines six parsecs away from the egress point. Sith-Imperial stragglers engaged us at nearly every impediment," he explained. Tyrell regarded the holoprojection with an inquisitive squint. Dubrillion and Jaemus, as expected. Tyrell nodded to the gathering, he'd missed a chunk of the conversation, but he could more or less fill in the gaps.

Imperial Warlord Zovesa Bastard Irveric Tavlar Lucien Dooku Dracken Pryce Cassius Callaesar Ryv Republic Engineering Warchief Waddles​