Invasion Rage Awakened (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Bastion & PL-40112-CE-021105)

[Moff Drybis Lyken]

Location: HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)
Objective III: Space Superiority
Allies: Seela Leini Thaelius Onrai
Enemies: Savoh Muska Var Koon Scourge Harz Naier Rambeigh

​

"Sir emerging from hyperspace now".

"Very good Colonel, ready shields and stabilizers, prepare gun turrets to engage targets, and ready all pilots for immediate launch"

"Yes sir", said the Colonel as he saluted and carried out his orders.

Drybis was back where he belonged, on a bridge, commanding a fleet. Being a Moff was beneficial, especially politically, but he always felt at home commanding a starship in the heat of naval combat. It was also where, his skills were most effective. His past naval victories had been glorious and astounding, earning him great renown. Those however, were few against the New Imperial Order. Drybis had known many Imperials that defected to or straight out joined the NIO. Some of them he knew more personally as a few had either been former superiors while some were his former subordinates. The thought of joining such a group has crossed his mind, but he had sworn an Oath to the Sith Empire, one that could not easily be broken. He had even been invited to join, but had refused each time. He knew that when he returned from the Core in 851 ABY and had rejoined the Sith Navy soon after, that he could never go back, and part of him didn't want to. His loyalty was to the Sith Empire, its Lords, and especially the Grand Moffs. This didn't mean that he didn't understand why the NIO was formed and was at war with the Sith. He had happened to understand it quite well. The difference between himself and the officers and troops of the NIO, is that Lyken knew that victory over the Sith was near impossible. They would soon realize, with his help of course.

He refocused his mind as "The Wrath" exited hyperspace. Bastion. A former Sith-Imperial stronghold and a planet engulfed with the recent wars of history. Drybis hadn't been present during the NIO's occupation of the planet previously, he had been in the Cadomai System, dealing with a insurrection instigated by some external forces. He now looked on the planet below and the New Imperial Fleet above in orbit. Most of the ground forces including many Sith had landed. He could see many Mastodon-class Troop Transports & Phi-class Heavy Dropships ferrying forces to the planet below. The fighting must be intense on the surface, though Lyken had no desire to find out. He knew that the Sith could handle things down there, especially if they only faced New Imperial forces. His job was to manage control of the space arena and secure control of Bastion's orbit. This needed to be done if reinforcements had to be sent to the forces on the planet. Now that he had arrived, he would take command. As he looked again towards orbit, he could see two Baras-class Star Destroyers taking on the Imperial naval forces. One was holding off decently well, while the other was being torn apart. Imperial starfighters and bombers were tearing apart its hull and the bridge wasn't close behind. The Moff did not intervene with that one, it was already lost as Colonel Luk'Jo made his way to him to deliver a report. Before the Colonel spoke, Drybis could also see an Imperial Arquitens-Class Command Cruiser in orbit as well, with two Raider-Class Corvettes by its side. Several Sith ships and starfighters were around and participating in the space battle as well.

"All preparations are made, Moff Lyken, fighters are prepped, shields at full, and turrets engaged".

He heard the Colonel and now realized that he needed to reorganize the Sith naval forces here at present as well as the ones arriving so an effective attack could be carried out. "Good, Colonel prepare to broadcast a priority one hail on Sith channels only, as well send out a Code 3461 to that Baras-class star destroyer there", the Moff said he pointed to the lone standing Baras-class as the other was nearly destroyed by this point. "Tell them to fall back to rally point Omega and circle back to join the fleet's center line".

"Ummmm sir, what fleet?". "I know more are coming, but for now its just us", said the somewhat confused Duros Colonel.

As soon as the Colonel finished, the red beep of incoming ships lit up on the bridge's control console in front of them. Seconds later, Sith starship after Sith starship exited hyperspace behind "The Wrath".

Drybis looked out from the side bridge viewport and the saw the ships arriving. He soon made a slight grin and let out a small chuckle. He turned back around and stared at the Colonel, who was both shocked, confused, and also relieved.

"That fleet Colonel, that fleet", he said to his subordinate as he trotted back by him to look back upon Bastion and Imperial Navy in orbit. He assumed his regular stance with his chin raised slightly and his arms crossed behind his back. His feet spread apart enough to still move his torso around. He gazed to his left and it now lied upon Ensign Akura.

"Ensign, open the channel".

"Yes sir".

"All Sith-Imperial Naval Forces, This is Moff Drybis Lyken". "All commanding officers & squadron leaders, report in immediately".



Theme: The Web of Space

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

Tag: Darth Assimilus
​

There were no concessions. The NIO's refusal to assimilate into the Sith Empire threatens the future of the entire galaxy. How much could be accomplished with unity, as their worthy goals had once been the same. End the Jedi; unless these Sith no longer embrace the Darkness as they once had. Had their objectives changed since they had grown soft to their soul purpose?

As the Imperials awakened and dissented, likewise everywhere the Nightsister turned the Jedi who affronted her were also impure. They were the first to charge with a wake of physical violence. Tacky, enraged, out of control of the Force which they vehemently declare guides them. Jax Thio for one. Just a Knight, so untrained, so lost and unseasoned. When will they understand the ultimate power of the Darkside? Could such fools even comprehend it, were there no other option paved before them? The Nightsister enjoys enlightening this one and his little Padawan, brainwashed into hanging on his every heretic teaching. Maybe she will confront him again. In fact, she is sure the Fates shall oblige her soon enough.

The Sith Empire always hails strength in unity. Those who do not reunify, surely have gone soft, stepped into the Light, even just a sliver. They sought comforts, recognition, fair treatment…in a sense actual peace. The Darkness shall not mourn such a loss. She stomps her feet into the ground, shakes her fist and pushes onward. Her words of coaxing are far more thunderous than any her followers can ever grasp to utter them…therefore there is always violence.



Only the Emperor Emeritus Carnifex possesses the silver tongue which could rest her thoughts where space travel is deemed pertinent. Of course, a direct order from Uncle Prazutis would suffice, and he hadn't decreed so. She much prefers personal control in all manner possible, therefore she did not arrive among the vessels of the Sith fleet.

A thunderous crack emitted at the same time the fabric of space tore open, revealing an absolute blackness just large enough for her physical body to Teleport through. Her heels upon solid earth, she took straight to lead towards where she felt the cries of beckoning.



The Nightsister stopped before the well hidden opening to a vast underground temple. The drop nearly two thousand feet to its surface. "How the very souls of the damned haunt this their resting place," she remarked. How she shall covet them all into her relics before her time here is through, enslave them to fulfill her will. A whisper from her lips, and twirl of her fingers hovered over her amulet, is all she requires to spawn her magick.

The soil beneath her feet began to swirl, increasing till forming a cyclone powerful enough to tear apart the ground. Down lowered the soil level, till she could walk directly into the temple, and most importantly that what rests within may walk right out.

Blackened souls reacted to the Nightsister's lure, drawing into the decayed flesh and bone they left behind once before. These dead would not arise as empty vessels. They are raised up, with their memories and emotions intact, agonizing in their physical state, tormented at understanding just what is occurring. They shall be puppeteered by the Necromancer and made to satisfy her warped desires, that they shall be unleashed upon the land to traumatize the masses.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Felix Astermo
Gear: Elpsis' Armour, Inferno, Uproar Blaster, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Wrist Ion Paddle Beamer, Revolver, Grenades.

Colonel Lucille Guyenne's office was a Spartan affair. The Colonel was busy dictating orders to an aide when Elpsis entered. "Lieutenant Zinovieva gets the boot. I want her arse off my station first thing tomorrow. I won't tolerate drunkenness on duty."
"Yes, ma'am," the aide made a note, paused. "She had a solid service record."
"And she failed to keep it. Repairs on the Firebirds?"
"Progessing, ma'am. Should be done by next week. Two beyond repair though, according to the deck chief."
"Has command gotten back to you on my request for Drakes?"
"Logistics is, um, assessing the request make."
"You mean drumming up an excuse to disregard it because we're patrolling the arse-end of the galaxy," Guyenne said harshly. "I'll talk to them myself." Then she saw fit to acknowledge the newcomer. "Ah, Lieutenant, or is it already Captain?" Of course, the Colonel knew the answer to that.

Elpsis snapped to attention and saluted. "Just Lieutenant, ma'am. I didn't ask for a rank-up."
"A rare soldier who turns down an invitation for promotion - from our 'lady regent', no less. I suppose you either know your limitations or are simply an underachiever." Suspecting a bait, Elpsis said nothing. "Well, you're here, so get to the point, Lieutenant," Guyenne continued a bit abrasively.
"Here about Bastion, ma'am. Heard Firemane's sending people over."
"And naturally the 'Fire Princess' has to be there to impress with rousing acts of bravura."
"It's not about that, ma'am. They're gonna be fighting Sith. I'm good at that."
Guyenne's tone was frosty. "Don't delude yourself into thinking your talents are big enough to change the tide. You're one resource among many. It's convenient, isn't it? You're a junior officer and yet you always seem to get the chance to go on special assignments. We both know why, don't we?"
"I never asked for special treatment, ma'am. If I wanted it, I could've have a cushy rank and a fancy-arse command instead of being, as you say, in the arse-end of the galaxy."
"Until there's a brushfire you have to be in." There was a pause. "If I grant this request, is it because I believe you'll actually do some good, or because a pen-pusher on the board having someone with the name Kerrigan in the field will look good? Or because I want you out of my sight? That was rhetorical, Lieutenant." After a moment, she said: "Take your squad."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Don't thank me, Lieutenant. Do your job and do it well. Dismissed."
Elpsis was already on the way out, then turned. "You don't like me, ma'am," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm not here to be liked. You've always been honest with me - and I respect that. Back at the Arx, I have to deal with court lackeys who smile while they just want to use me because I'm the 'Fire Princess' and they want the keys to my mother's kingdom. Here, I can do what I was made for. Fight scumbags, train others to fight and make it through hell. That's all I want. That's what I was born for."
"If only it was that simple, Lieutenant, and we could all rush around the galaxy fighting battles with Sith. Come back victorious. And if you come back as a corpse, make sure to take a Sith to the Nether with you." And so Elpsis departed.

For a 'bastion', Bastion had seen a great many conquerors come and go. Imperial Remnants, Sith, Primeval Cultists, Mandalorians, and Sith and Imperials again had held dominion over this place. There were probably even more, but Elpsis was no history buff. She liked to imagine that the Bastionians had multiple Sith, Imperial or Mandalorian flags or just holographic projectors with multiple settingy lying around, so that they were prepared for the next conqueror of the week.

Not so long ago, the New Imperial Order - strange name for a nation - had come to Bastion, unleashing a cleansing firestorm upon the Sith. Elpsis was no fan of Imperials or imperialist governments in general. They were just another variation of despotic regimes that tried to exact their will upon the galaxy. However, she approved of their way of handling Sith: purging them. It contrasted with Jedi who decided to become Sith servitors.

So here she was. There had, strictly speaking, been no need for the 'Fire Princess' to volunteer for this mission. She was, as pen-pushers and court lackeys liked to inform her incessantly, acting matriarch of House Kerrigan-Alcori now. The face of the house while Siobhan was out of commission. Its future, while Livia and Adril were little girls since her mother had run out of alternatives. It would be oh so disruptive if something happened to the 'heiress', notwithstanding the fact that she was not Firemane's inheritor and had no interest in being that. Elpsis had not been able to slay the rogue Sith Lord who had mortally wounded her mother. But she might make a difference here - or try at any rate. Resolution and zeal filled her.

Business and politics were not fields she cared about. She had no use for her family's gold or its veritable army of court lackeys and servants. Excessive wealth tainted those who owned. Burning oppressors, on the other hand, was in her blood. It was her calling in this cycle of her existence. I beg for bravery, strength and justice, she prayed quietly to the Lifeweb. Compared to it, she was a small. Just another piece of the tapestry. But she took comfort in this. Give me the strength to be brave and just. To smite the wicked and deliver them to the hell they deserve.

Beneath Bastion lay a network of tunnels. A great many of them had probably not been mapped. Down here, under the earth and duracrete, beings moved. The Force had guided her here. This tunnel was also said to be not far from a library of unholy tomes and relics. The tunnel was dark and gloomy, but the pyromancer did not use physical sight or indeed technology to see. Instead she had the Force. So she surreptitiously made her way into the darkness.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Allies: NIO | Var Koon | Savoh Muska | Naier Rambeigh | Len Vert | Scourge Harz
Enemies: TSE | CIS | Moff Drybis Lyken | Onrai | Thaelius

​

Before the Sith Arrival.​

​

Stormvale. Fiolette thought as she stood on the property that once brought her so much joy. Dressed in a suit jacket, a blouse, and slacks, with a pair of soft boots, a simple black, and white attire. She stepped forward and thought, we had a home here Taeli. We made our love, our family, here on these grounds. The Galidraani woman closed her eyes and tried to recall those few happy moments. Ten years of their love and their life had been cast aside - for power. Fiolette had come to the realization that she was nothing more than a tool. A tool to be used by Taeli Raaf, and if there had been some semblance of love for Fiolette, for their marriage - it paled in comparison to the love and devotion that Taeli showed to Carnifex and his Empire.​

​

Worse. Taeli dismissed Fiolette’s own feelings, concerns as the New Imperial Order grew from an insurrection to a martial powerhouse. Fiolette would always be an Imperial. There was nothing that could change that, it was a simple fact. The redhead stood on the haphazard, dilapidated property - whatever was left of Taeli and Fio’s love was reflected here on Stormvale.​

​

The country house in a fortress world. Fiolette stepped forward toward the overgrown and cracked duracrete statues of the Lion and the Raven. She pushed both aside and paid no mind as they fell, broken unto the ground. Pieces scattered about the weeds and unkempt garden. “I loved you, Taeli Raaf.” Bitter words were spoken with anger, grief, and disdain that it felt like venom on her tongue. Fiolette didn’t fight the tears that rolled down hotly against her skin.​

​

Fio stood there in the front of the house, she hated herself she hated every part of herself for the words that rushed forward and spilled from her lips. “I still love you.” The alchemical ink on her skin burned like a thousand suns and that alone reminded Fiolette of the pain she felt. The pain of waiting every waking night for her wife to come home. The pain of not knowing if and when something would go wrong. The pain of going to sleep to an empty bed, the absence of the warmth she once had. ​

​

Quietly she reached inside of her jacket pocket and took out a lighter. She tossed it in her hand, it was a gift upon her joining the Sith Empire. Carved upon it had been the old Sith Empire sigil, Fiolette chewed on the inside of her lip. She debated on her actions, as she had been for the past few days. Her eyes drifted up from her hand toward the house, a house she once called home. A house that had brought so much joy, and yet so much pain.​

​

A piece of the woodwork popped out, and it seemed to scream at Fiolette. She crossed the once beautifully paved drive toward the outspoken log. Her hands gripped its now crippled form and tore it from its place. Splinters flew upward and then down, and Fiolette looked at it and then at the lighter in her other hand.​

​

“This is for all the pain you brought me, for all the times you whispered that you would be home and never arrived. Part of me will always love you, and I hate myself for it. We will always be one of the best things I have ever taken part in, and yet I know I mean nothing to you - then again, I suppose I never did.” ​

​

Fiolette lit the jagged scrap of wood on fire with the lighter and tossed the lighter toward the house. “Let this burn in the way our love once did, and let it end the way our love did - empty, and quiet, hollow and without a sound.”​

​

She stepped toward the house and lit the nearest flammable part on fire and then proceeded down the path until the wood could light no more. Fiolette tossed the burning, broken log toward the now raging inferno that was once her home. “If you ever loved me, Taeli. You’ll know why this house burns, you’ll feel it.” Or Taeli will simply compartmentalize it and pretend it never happened like she did everything else.​

​

Aboard the Rae Sloane.​

​

Wearing New Imperial Order colors, Fiolette stood aboard the bridge of the Rae Sloane. “Shields up, get me a long-range scan on the Sith ships.” Ordered Fiolette, with the memory of days past pushed aside. “All hands to battle stations.” ​

​

The wail of the alarms, the red alert klaxons drowned the cool durasteel interior in a blood-red hue. The men and women of the Rae Sloane stormed its corridors, hurried to their stations. Guns began to turn and the crystalamnium beast of steel came to life, her engines alight in the bright blue hues that illuminated the void of space within its range. ​

​

The open floor plan of the bridge gave the woman a commanding view of the officers who worked to coordinate with section chiefs throughout the ship. Fiolette opened the encrypted channels to the New Imperial Order’s naval forces. “The Sith have returned for what was once theirs, and we will remind them that we are Imperials. Imperials STAND. We will NOT falter, we will NOT surrender and above all we show them NO MERCY. For where was their mercy when we bled for their cause? Where was their mercy when they slaughtered the millions for their amusement? There was none, and so we give to them what they have given to us and to the galaxy.”​

​

“For those who follow them, do so blindly and must be put to the sword. Ladies and gentlemen of the New Imperial Order. This is a fight the Sith cannot and will not win, for they have shown us their true nature. A nature of cowardly wizards who throw thousands upon thousands of brainwashed cultists toward us. We WILL show them who we are, and we WILL cut them to size.​

​

Today is not for them, today is for us - TO DO OR DIE FOR IMPERIAL MIGHT!”​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

 

[FN-999]

POST: I
OBJECTIVE: I
LOCATION: Fortress Imperator, North Gate
EQUIPMENT: In signature, Reaper Chainblaster
UNIT: The 19th Stormtrooper Assault Company (240/240) (see detailed status on tactical map)
ALLIES: NIO | Individuals TBD
HOSTILES: TSE | Individuals TBD

[FOR THE IMPERATOR!]

"FOR THE IMPERATOR!!!"
​

The 19th Stormtrooper Assault Company let out an immense coordinated battle cry as they held their position, solemn even as ships exploded kilometers above them and commandos fought dozens of meters below them. The absence of the Imperator made their cries much more meaningful, and it was in his name that the company would hold their formation. Two platoons had been temporarily added to the 19th's ranks in order to bolster their defensive capabilities, with the two hundred and forty troopers forming the primary vanguard for the northern perimeter of the fortress behind them. Just months prior, the 19th had charged up the road which they now defended, their rockets destroying the gate which now stood fully repaired about ten meters behind their rear. Nearly a quarter of their ranks had fallen to the defensive lines and the wrath of a single Force-wielding woman in that hard campaign, losses which the company could not afford to receive again. Anticipating that the same woman may have re covered from her wounds and returned as part of the reconquest force, FN-999 had equipped a third of the troopers in his assault platoons with chainguns similar to his own. While her speed and agility were inhuman, the sheer volume of bullets hurled her way would likely be able to cut her down at a safe distance.

Satisfied that the company's firepower would be enough to eliminate the second coming of the hostile female, the rest of FN-999's strategy was focused around encountering the more common Sith legionarres. The elements of the 19th were placed in a large, broad wedge designed to give the ability of at least two assault platoons to fire on the same enemy formation without any troop movement necessary. The captain hoped that an overconfident, numerically superior Sith force would charge towards the two center line platoons who tightly hugged the northern gate of the fortress, believing that they could split the company in half and break through the gate at the same time. However, the moment an enemy advance would begin into middle of the 19th's wedge, all four assault platoon would fire their heavy weaponry from behind concrete barricades while each flank line platoon would sharpen the wedge, striking the advancing Sith from three sides while only being struck from one. It was likely that the strategy would be effective for only two or three uses before the Sith command learned of their tactics and modified their own, so it was essential that the company maximized its impact.

It was FN-999's hope that the 7th Fleet and the reinforcements it was due to deposit would arrive by the time that his strategy became known to the Sith, as they would then have a much larger problem on their hands. If it all went well, the company could walk away with less than 30 casualties. Yet the captain knew all too well that a single powerful player could throw an entire company into disarray, and he was prepared for the worst. In order to prevent such pessimistic thoughts from dominating his brain and draining his morale, FN-999 continued his chants over the company's comm frequency.

[We shall take from them...]

"A THOUSAND MEN FOR A THOUSAND MILLIMETERS!"
​

Slamming the tip of his sword firmly into the pavement below, FN-999 braced himself to welcome his enemies with a multi-hundred gun gift.

 

[Decimus]

Objective: 3
Location: HMIS "The Wrath"
Post: 1

This was it. The day the Sith Empire would finally claim some measure of full vengeance upon the New Imperial traitors that had seized so much of their territory, and their former capital as well. Aut-X's droid fleets had been kept out of this invasion, instead being assigned along the Sith and New Imperial border in preparation for any counter attack that may be launched during this offensive. His designated territories were along that border, after all, so such security was necessary.

Still, Aut-X did not wish to miss such a crucial battle, leaving command of the border defense to Sith Imperial officers he trusted while he observed the battle for Bastion up close and personal. His Sheathipede-class Shuttle came out of hyperspace alongside most of the new arriving Sith fleet, making it's way towards the hangar bay of the Marr-class Star Destroyer "The Wrath" with haste before combat began. When it touched down safely inside, Aut-X departed the shuttle down it's rear boarding ramp, tailed by a pair of BX-Series Droid Commandos painted in livery not dissimilar from that on his own chassis, marking them as his protectors.

He made his way through the ship, until he arrived at the bridge, greeting Moff Lyken. "Ahh, Moff Lyken. Is the fleet all accounted for? I thought I'd come and offer what tactical aid I can to your offensive, as well as observe such a critical battle for the future of the Sith Empire."

Allies: Seela Leini Thaelius Onrai Moff Drybis Lyken
Enemies: Savoh Muska Var Koon Scourge Harz Naier Rambeigh

 

[Onrai]

Space
Allies: Moff Drybis Lyken Thaelius Seela Leini Grand Moff Aut-X
Enemies: Var Koon Savoh Muska Naier Rambeigh Len Vert Scourge Harz Fiolette Fortan

The fleet of warships, fresh off the conflict of Dantooine, followed the Gorgon as it emerged from hyperspace near the fellow Imperial ships. A manifestation of Vanessa Vantai, still in her former human appearance, stood on the vessel's bridge. So it was that once more the fleet assets of her little demesne had been required - though this time their intent was to fight offensively as opposed to defensively. Extra power had been driven to recharging their primary hyperdrives, and both their primary and secondary backup hyperdrives were primed for use in shock-jumping whatever enemy fleet assets prepared to engage them. The Sith within their meditation chambers stood ready, sensing the battlefield for the presence of cloaked vessels or other traps that were lying in wait for the Sith fleet.

There would be no quarter given. Not after all that had been lost so far.

Spoiler: Fleet Assets

Vanessa's Command Fleet
Class | Name | Length | Shields | Hull
Gorgon-class Star Dreadnought | Gorgon | 10000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Heresiarch | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Despot | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Autarch | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Martinet | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Sovereign | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Harbinger | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Guardian | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Mandator | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Caudillo | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Assertor | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Bellator | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Vengeance | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Viscount | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Intimidator | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Annihilator | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Arbitrator | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Sovereign | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Terror | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Whelm | 5000m | 100 | 100
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Ravager | 5000m | 100 | 100

-

Ground
Enemies: Ladybug
Allies: ???

That was not her only manifestation, however. Another soon entered the system aboard one of the many transports making landing on the former Sith capitol. Onrai had spared no quarter on providing her own contingent to the invasion fleet - hundreds of thousands of Phase Zero Dark Troopers, along with a tremendous number of Oppressor-15 and 16-class Dark Troopers, radtroopers, and even several large squads of bloodtroopers. These fleet assets were aggressively disgorged onto the world's surface - Onrai herself landing with a pair of bloodtroopers and crimson-painted Oppressor-16s.

It was now time to hunt down the New Imperials here at the landing zone and pursue a path to Fortress Imperator as they could.

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

​

Location: Ravelin, Fortress Imperator, Vaulkhar's Rest
Allies: NIO and Allies | The Ghost of Vaulkhar , perhaps?
Enemies: TSE and Allies
Engaging: Joycelyn Zambrano

​

Amid the cacophony starting to overtake the city, amid the waves of pain, anger, and death starting to overtake the currents of the Force around the planet, one statue still stood tall, just outside of the Fortress Imperator, despite the explosions and blasts blossoming all around it. Elsewhere, parts of the city were already sustaining heavy damage or falling entirely; even before he'd begun walking out into the fray Cotan had heard the alert going through the comms; apparently, the COMPNOR headquarters had already fallen under the assault. It wouldn't be long before the Sith would find their way up to the Fortress itself.

Ignoring the Stormtroopers stationed in defence of the Fortress, he wandered outside, striding out to where the statue stood. Once, it had stood in monument to Darth Carnifex himself; something Cotan had seen multiple times, coming through Bastion under disguise, seeking out information, intelligence, anything to help in the fight against the Sith. Now, though, a new statue stood in its place, one with a different face. Not the golden skull, the face that had been shown in the final months of the man's life; but that forlorn, yet peaceful expression underneath the hood.

Looking up, he studied the face for a short moment. The sculptors had done marvellously, recreating Vaulkhar's features. All the same, the expression on it, calm, peaceful, but still subdued, was more akin to that man Cotan had come to know instead. Ven, not Vaulkhar. "I hope, in death, you found the peace that life denied you, friend," he said quietly, not breaking his gaze from the statue's face. "And if not, then I hope someday to help you find it."

He held his gaze a moment longer, the blasts ringing through the city going completely ignored, before eventually he broke from it. There were many beings on the world, many still making their way to the surface; currents of thought and emotion pulling the Force in all directions. And through it all, some signatures he recognized; prominent Sith, who he'd gone up against multiple times. And another...

The new empress, he recognized. One who had caused the death of one friend, who wounded multiple others.

"Who knows, Vaulkhar; if the Force wills it, I might even join you today."

He drew his sword, giving a salute to the statue; then he turned away, kneeling down and laying the sword flat on the ground in front of him. Closing his eyes, he took a few slow breaths, sinking deep into the Force within moments. In truth, he didn't want to go, at least not without seeing Lief one more time; but he'd learned from her to follow the Force and its guidance, more than he'd done in the past. If he was lost in that, hopefully she would understand. But he had no intention of making such a thing easy.

Come, empress. This battle between us is long overdue.

 

[Daeron]

TUNNEL B-1
Detritus Ren Hans Rennagen Aaran Tafo​

Daeron journeyed through the subterranean tunnels beneath Ravelin. Alone, away from the main subterranean Sith force. He had a mission and must travel with discretion.

On his person, Daeron did have a comm link in case Telis Taharin-Zambrano or other Sith wished to coordinate.

Slowly, Daeron’s advance contained caution. Before turning corners, he paused and felt for any disturbances that might disrupt his journey. So far, nothing happened as the roar of battle from the surface could barely be heard.

Eventually, Daeron came across a massive, sealed bulkhead within the damp tunnels. Likely used for flood control. He spotted the entrance to the control room. He began a slow advance forward while keeping his head on as swivel...

 

[Meko Sorrin]

FIRETEAM ARSENAL
4/4
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
ALLIES | NIO | Djorn Bline | Lyra Voi’kryt | Creuat | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus | Kolson Vrask | Zakaria Black | FN-999 | Vostok Grauv
HOSTILES | TSE | OPEN

"ARSENAL, GET ON THE LINE!"​

Sorrin's helmet had been loosely secured on his armor. The constant low rumbling of the ground always shifted it out of place. With locks unfastened, however, it would most likely never stay down. But the Storm Commando did not recognize this. There were a lot of things he didn't recognize in the heat of the moment, like how he was missing an extra power pack for his sidearm. But it made sense as to why, today, he was so clumsy as to miss all of the things that are usually routine for him.

Fear. ​

It clouded his mind as continued to fight the constant wave of enemies that appeared in the crosshairs of his sight. He and his small fireteam would stand no match to the repeated forces of the Sith. He knew this. They could stand the tide as long as possible, but some of them would not live to tell the tale. This thought scared Sorrin to death. He wanted his fireteam to see their families again. Rimora, a fellow squadmate and Storm Commando, had two sons who eagerly awaited his return. He wouldn't be able to hold the responsibility of telling their families that the ones they loved died in battle. He wasn't strong enough. This, he also knew.

Bodies on both sides started to pile up little by little, and the stench was starting to fill the air alongside the smell of flame and dirt. It was a pungent smell, very distinctive and repulsive. But it was fuel, a constant reminder of the reason why the fight continues.

The Storm Commando jumped over another barricade. Sweat dripped down his forehead profusely. He took another look towards his left, a Sith trooper had his weapon trained on him. Automated reactions kicked in. He took his sidearm out of the holster and fired two shots center mass. The body fell over quickly. He holstered his sidearm in the amount of time it took to take it out, then looked out at the battlefield. The sounds of war and chaos faded. All he could hear was his breath. One after the other. The surrounding environment was a hellscape, a frightening sight to see.

<"Sorrin!">

A call came in from the comms. A loud and blaring voice to bring him back to reality.

<"SORRIN! NEW RENDEZVOUS POINT! MEET US THERE ASAP!">

<"Roger. E-En route to the position."> He viewed the location on the HUD. A red dot designated the new location among the wall.

His helmet finally snapped into place.

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
71st Ghost Vipers | Mamba Company
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | GRENADES | MELEE

BAD COMPANY​

After Dantooine...

There was no rest for those with the Will of Defiance in their veins. It wasn’t an order that they were given, it was their spirit demanding them to not succumb to the dreaded feeling of defeat after their loss on Dantooine. Time to mourn they had, but the war still continued and vengeance called to them. This war was bigger than what it seemed to be. Their noble quest in vanquishing the horrors of the Dark Side wasn’t the only war they faced.

That all changed after what they witnessed on Dantooine.

Disbelief they were when the Sith, for all their atrocities and crimes, were relieved with the support from those that preached the values of justice, freedom, and peace. Individuals from Naboo and Commenor stood by with those that committed unforgivable deeds, uniting to defend and allow the darkness to prevail.

And so it did prevail.

But the mission still remained.

The Galaxy had united against their cause, and it only bolstered their defiance.

And this war would not stop until the last man standing. Snake would see to it personally, even if it led him to his fate.

PRESENT DAY, FORTRESS IMPERATOR...

Back home at Bastion, the heart of the Order. His home that he was born and raised on. The same place that he saw through the lies of the Sith and understood the truth of his errors, how much of a tool he was for those that pretended to be gods among men. How many sins he committed for a cause that was founded on evil and damnation? Countless. There was no pride in his service for the Sith, only regret after reflecting on his actions he blindly carried out to the letter.

But, figuratively, like a snake he shed himself from that cause he lived and fought for, and found new purpose from the flames on the same day when the flames of defiance consumed the darkness on Bastion and liberated it for the Imperial. Any symbols of the Sith was purged without mercy. Zealous followers and disciples of the Sith Code would receive whatever fate awaited for their crimes.

Darkness fell on Bastion.

But their time to bury it would have to wait as...

ERRRRRR

ERRRRRR

ERRRRRR​

...klaxons screamed with explosions and blaster fire joining its disharmony. Unannounced did the attack from the Sith come to Bastion, creeping over the stars to make their presence known in the reclaimed world of the Imperials. Status reports were fed furiously in the loop of command, soldiers rushing to their posts and stations.

TARKIN HAS FALLEN.
​

They all heard it loud and clear through the comms. Here and the other systems under the Iron Sun.

<“Looks like darkness will die again on Bastion.”>

<“Sir? What’s our plan?”>

<“We welcome them to their graves, lieutenant. They’ll inherit the ashes of their ambitions. Get me in contact with the nearest general. We'll coordinate something, that's all I got; but we'll make the best happen with whatever we got. And call in for some hawks, I'm not gonna sit around and set up base here.”>

Snake and his men were on the move. The man mostly worked autonomously at a degree, only following the directive of a chain of command when ordered to or when he it was necessary. His orders were none, but he wouldn’t sit idly for them. There was a fight to be had. There was a fight to see through. And they would take it to the collective enemy.

<"What about the Imperator, sir? Will he be with us today?">

Irveric. Ever since their defeat on Dantooine, he had long been silent and isolated from the Galaxy. Attempts were made reaching out the Sovereign Imperator, but all were unsuccessful. Maybe, just maybe he'd come back to the helm and dissuade this wave of darkness that threatened what they had long fought for ever since their Declaration of Defiance.

<"I'm not sure, Lieutenant, but that doesn't matter. The time is now and I won't waste a minute in waiting. Our future is at stake, I'm gonna make sure that's not compromised.">

Words of determination from his tongue. Now they had to put some work to it. All they could do was fight and bleed for their dreams and wishes. Every ounce of blood spilled on Bastion would be avenged, but they would fight until the essence of death retrieved their souls.

Live for nothing...

...or die for something.​

<"Snake, I've made contact with friendlies. Vindicate-Actual.">

Lyra.

<"This is Diamond Snake, Vindicate. I hear you, I've got a company heading your way. What's your status?">

All across Ravelin was subjected by war. Cries and screams accompanied the disharmony of ordnances and blaster fire. The Sith wouldn’t show no mercy, and he knew that as well as those here standing today. But their wrath would be met with the very essence that broke the Sith across the Braxant Run.

Defiance.​

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt |
ENEMIES | TSE | CONFEDERATES | Luna Terrik | OPEN

 

[Elicia Hejaran]

Objective II: Danger Below
Allies: Jaeger Harrsk

"Looks like your flight will be delayed, Lady Hejaran."

Like locusts ravaging a crop, fleets of the Sith Empire dotted the sky and their legions plagued the soil. Guided by what they believed to be an ultimate righteousness, the Sith acted on power and were blind to anything which did not succumb to it. Few factions in the galaxy were willing to intervene in the omnipresent holy war between the Jedi and the Sith; of them, the New Imperial Order stood the most able to make a tangible dent in that war. That wasn't the only reason Elicia stood on Bastion alongside the Imperials on this day - it was personal. Time and time again, her adoptive homeworld of Coruscant has been razed in conflicts between religious zealot states, and it was her family that suffered because of it. Her families position, her position, depended upon the success of their business interests. The Sith Empire has made a habit of compromising those interests. No more.

Blaster fire consumed the corridors as the esteemed commissioner Harrsk and Elicia made their way to the sublevels of the building. Enemy ordinance rocked the foundations of the COMPNOR headquarters, unleashing a myriad of dust and debris seizing control of Elicia's airways. Fortunately she would have a chance to reassert control. Weaving though a seemingly endless barrage of enemy fire, Harrsk shouted at her to close the blast doors. Within seconds after passing through the doorway, Elicia slammed her palm on the door controls, promptly cutting the enemy troops off from the pair as they made their escape.

Despite the hardship just endured, she maintained her composure. Vulnerability was weakness, and she was a strict adherent to her public image. Decompression could take place in private. Her COMPNOR companion didn't have such standards however, as he sat on the ground against the wall, the only relief his melancholy would receive from the huff of a cigarette. Despite the obvious shock of the attack, words needn't be spoken to understand what was happening. The Sith weren't just on their doorstep - they were kicking the door in. Rather than engage in needless conversation, she just listened in on his comms with the broader Imperial network.

Things didn't sound good. The Imperator's whereabouts were unknown, and the expletives from Harrsk did little to reassure her of the optimism of the situation.

Tarkin has fallen.

Though she had no idea what the literal meaning was, the statement and the grief with which it was delivered was enough to pierce her soul with the gravity of the situation.

"What does it mean?", she asked. She almost didn't want to know. Though the New Imperial Order was on their back foot, it wasn't a guarantee that all was lost.

Progress is honed on necessary death. Today, it would beckon for the Sith.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」​

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

 

[Auteme]

Cara Dorniarn ​

The Pellaeon Gardens were everything she’d hoped they’d be. The myriad of plants cast fading shadows as the glow of the evening sky dulled further. Unlike much of the city, she and the gardens had escaped thus far unscathed; for a brief moment she found peace, a center of tranquility in a world bathed in fire.

The last time she’d been to Bastion, Ravelin was in a similar situation. Imperials clashed with Sith in the streets, the fires ran wild, the Force cried out. The Jedi fought the darkness. Here, though, things were calm. The Force was a great pond; each of her steps sent ripples out. She could feel the ebb and flow across the city from here.

She moved to the garden’s center, dropping to her knees and sitting on her feet. Her hands curled into fists and retreated to her knees. The world grew dark, yet her vision cleared. A deep breath slipped her into a meditative trance.

Outside of the gardens, it was cold. A cold like death. She shivered, only for her sense to be pulled back to her. She was cold. Not the same, only fear. Fear. Fear was the mind-killer, and it wracked hers today. Why was she the one who was there? She’d never fit in on the battlefields or even among the New Jedi Order. Warriors, Sith-slayers, determined and fearless.

Yet, they were with her nonetheless. She’d come because there were Jedi who needed her guidance. Though she was not a master of it, they needed the meld. She was the link, the bridge, the support for her friends.

Though she began to anchor herself in the peace of the gardens she found her mind pulled away once more. She could see Lucien and Ryv and knew they’d be there soon; she could only hope soon enough. But past that there was a connection she hadn’t seen. The current guided her further, until she heard his voice.

From the stasis of cold fluorescent bacta, he spoke, a voice reaching through the void. Perhaps to Auteme, only eerily familiar however, his tether to the Gardens was strong. After all, he was its tender, he was the very soul who took to nurturing it, meticulously repairing its beauty in the wake of the first siege of Bastion and through the intangible ties he had to those close to her, being the very man dictated to raise up Ryv, a wayward kin to Dooku, he was able to reach her.

“You rest and seclude your mind where I once did, Auteme.

“Because you are preparing for something... you anticipate... something horrid, and you come here for one last moment of peace,” Rurik stated.

For a moment she saw him not as the broken man submerged in bacta, but rather the gardener, snipping the branches that had grown too wild, culling the weeds that had sprouted.

“The last time I was here -- the last battle, here. Kyber Dark. And everything was unbearable. So much pain, so much more than what’s already more than enough. I’m afraid. Afraid that everything the Sith did to this place will come back to swallow us. Everything that happened.” She spoke as if they were old friends; with a curt honesty and solemnity she kept to herself most of the time.

“You fear for their vengeance? Or perhaps… their influence. Over you… and everyone else.”

“I fear for… everything,” she said. “The Sith draw their strength from their anger, and the anger that’s gathering -- the anger for the Jedi, for the New Order -- it’s sickening. I can feel how badly they want to lash out, their desperation, their pain, and I know that they’ll keep hurting people, and I don’t know if I can convince them otherwise.”

“I have long learned… there will be no victory in seeking their redemption. To walk the path they do shows a deep and irreparable flaw in the core of their being. All you can hope to do, Auteme, is strengthen those around you. Steel your discipline, your resolve. Learn to control yourself, your emotions… everything. And you will be truly free, free from their lies and manipulation. They will writhe and strike at us until the darkness is snuffed out forever; such is their nature.”

Control of the self. Over time, practicing the best way to go forward. She could not control the Sith, and though she might try to redeem them, she would not stand aside and leave others to be subjects of their wrath. Auteme breathed deep, finding her center once more. The fear subsided, replaced with resolve to push back the darkness. As many times as it took. “Thank you. I'll... tend to your gardens until your return.”

Through the cold resolve, a warm smile.

“I anticipate… it will be soon.” Rurik’s voice faded.

For a time her mind fell quiet. She reached out, finding those specks of light that sent ripples into the pond. They were who she had to strengthen. Though she couldn’t fight directly she could empower the Jedi to stay alive and keep them together.

A rock fell in.

The waters were muddied.

Her concentration broke with the woman’s words.

Auteme managed not to scream. Her mind raced. Perhaps the brief moment of silence would appear as true control and calm; still, that little, wriggling fear found its way into her mind. Her first line of defense, reason, rushed to her aid. The woman had yet to attack and was offering Auteme a choice. A choice that she couldn’t accept, not truly, but it was there if she wished to take it.

Her odds if it came to blows -- low, as ever -- were improved by their situation. The garden was still quiet and the New Imperials were tenacious defenders; she doubted more than just this Sith had slipped through, at least here. However beautiful the gardens might be they lacked a grand strategic importance.

She rose to her feet and raised her hands. “I don’t want to fight,” she said. Her mind flitted to Dantooine. She tread carefully. “I’m going to assume you’re not one of the especially… dogmatic Sith, either, since you opted not to attack immediately. Though if I’m wrong, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

She hoped the Sith wouldn’t just shoot first.

“I’m not hurting anyone here. I’m not trying to fight anyone. Letting me stay doesn’t disadvantage you in the slightest. If you leave me alone I swear I won’t tell anyone you were here, and you can go about your... work.” As soon as the words left her mouth she worried that she’d made the wrong choice. Alas, it wasn’t her choice anyways -- she watched the woman carefully, searching for answers through the opaque visor.

 

[Noel Strasza]

T E A R D R O P S
MAJOR NOEL "DEADER" STRASZA
N E W I M P E R I A L W A R M A C H I N E

Sometime ago...

'I can't feel a thing.'​

The earthen haze invoked by her exhalation curled upwards, raking along what few organic features she had left, stinging at her gleaming lenses and tracing the edges of her messy hair. It was only five-standard and she already had a cigarette tucked between her lips. She turned her gaze towards what light blared over her head, how it swayed in idle response to the fluttering coats and desperate hands reaching to adjust it. The cyborg lay on the cold, indifferent table centered in the operating room, listening to the resonate hum of the mock-heart in her open chest and the erratic buzzing of the lights overhead. Long ago now, she had mastered the art of tuning out the technical speak of those biological engineers chipping and cranking away at her cybernetic body. She was the machine they spoke of, but she didn't understand it.​

She didn't want to.​

"Major, are you still with us?" That voice was enough to earn her focus and her whirring eyes shifted from their vacant study of the glowing bar, flicking to settle on the masked face of the woman leaning too close for comfort to her own. "Can you hear me?"​

"Y-" Noel started to speak, but found the sounds warbling and confused, tangled up on themselves as the processors implanted in her throat scrambled. "Y-e-" she couldn't get it out properly, forcing her brows to pinch together in irritation. What had they messed up this time? She took another drag from the smoke lodged between her mismatched lips, siphoning strength to bolster her patience until gloved fingers stole that from her and tossed it into the tray poised by her left shoulder. "Fu-" Right.​

"Her vocal processes are scrambled, the probe must have struck the encoder." The cigarette rat turned towards her colleagues, leaving Strasza to turn her focus back to the light overhead.​

"Perhaps if you would have monitored the camera as I suggested-" that voice stoked up some warmth in her exposed guts, forcing her augmented lungs to draw a full breath. Tally. "-then you would have prevented such blatant oversight. Step aside, please, let me look." The shadows of the room shifted, moving and with them, so too did The Major's head, tilting so she could fix her crimson eyes on the familiar face. He was her kin, in a sense. The augmented medic born from the same program which had rebuilt her after Bastionfall. A friendly face in a room of scientific indifference. Had she been able to smile, perhaps she would have. "Major, can you move your hands?" ​

The soft, mechanized whirr by either of her hips indicated she could.​

"Good, now, keep your hand where I brace it, okay?" Cold metal met cold metal as Julian lifted her limp hand, drawing it closer to her chest to tuck fingers beneath her jaw. "Hold it there." ​

Strasza did as he told her, locking her elbow into place to support the tilt of her head backwards, forcing her eyes away from one of the few faces she had come to enjoy seeing, and towards the back wall of the lab. Upside down, she viewed the holo displays, each one magnified to expose the inner workings of her reconstructed body. A heavy sigh escaped her, the foil to the steadying breath Julian's presence had encouraged of her, and her augmented eyes screwed shut beneath split lids, refusing to acknowledge the blueprints to her reconstruction. ​

She didn't want to understand.​

Some rampaging voltage along the sensitive, fleshy cords woven between those myomers in her throat made her lips twitch, and she hissed a soft warning through her mismatched teeth.​

"You're okay-" that warm voice coaxed, "just hang in there for a few more seconds." ​

She rumbled some apathetic response, far too used to the discomfort by now to complain of anything else. Heat warnings flashed across her HUD, blaring alarm in her mind as the medic took the warp iron to her, welding the frayed cords back into proper alignment. Something in her neck clicked, spinning backwards on itself to lock back down into proper place. ​

"There, that should fix it. Try speaking, Major." ​

One eye creaked open and she parted her lips, fighting against the heat in the back of her throat: "Thank you." ​

"Good, now then, enough of this cruelty, put her under." Julian hissed, drawing her hand back to settle by her side. The servos in her fingers told her he gave them a reassuring squeeze, one too quick for her to return, before he drew away.​

Some scrambling to her left caught her attention and she turned her head, glowering towards the biomedical engineer who approached the line plugged into the base of her skull. The man scooped it up in a hand and plunged the syringe he wielded into the feed, compressing the plunger down until the golden substance filled the line, rushing towards her in promise of relief. ​

Darkness devoured her sight, peeling her eyes backwards until they locked behind her lids and at last, she felt nothing once more- left to sleep on the table.​

Present Day
OPPOSITION : // OPEN
NIO ALLIES :// @IMTHEVULTURE Djorn Bline Tyrell Paxxus Jaeger Harrsk
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Willan Tal Rika Hiro DECEASED Erskine Barran Meko Sorrin FN-999

It's a beautiful tragedy.
​

Not just from the bloody path she carved through it on her way to the fortress, but from the celebratory galas thrown in the fortress after their victory had been secured. Victory. It was easy for the higher ups to deem it a clean victory, wasn't it? When those troopers on the ground were a mere statistic and not the very lifeblood of their veins. When they were helmets and uniforms and armor, just voices crackling across comm-links, not friends to share drinks with in the bar, or carry back to the barracks in the early hours of the morning after starting drinking games. When their blood was only stains on the duracrete at the end of it all. It sickened her to think of the victory won here as anything but a struggle. The sacrifices of her brothers and sisters would not go in vain.​

She knew this day would come as soon as the Iron Sun had been planted before her eyes at the crown of the fortress. Anyone who knew anything about the workings of the galaxy could have predicted it. The Sith had suffered a critical defeat here, sent running off with wounded tails between their bloody legs, and it had been people who were like her that had dealt the final blow. People like her. That was a thought, wasn't it? As far as she knew these days, there were no people like her. Even her kin in Julian, and now, Tyrell Paxxus were so different from her she found sparse comfort in their presence.​

The squared helmet tucked beneath her arm was flipped about as she flicked the cigarette between her fingers to the earth below, crushing it with a twist of her boot. They were coming. The wolves were at the door once more. Strasza twisted her head around unnaturally, turning her eyes up to the blood-stained banner planted those months ago. She thought of Agrippa then, the sacrifice he amongst thousands of others had made to usher those flag-bearers up there. The bayonet charge. The bloody clash to scale the stairs after gutting the fortress's internal defenses. Words of remembrance graced her lips as she turned her focus back towards the winding streets and stepped off, planting her helmet on her head and twisting it into place.​

She had been left to choose what it was she was to do this day, left unassigned and to her own judgment to adjust and go where it was she was needed the most. The rattle of communications resonated through her bones, echoing through her mock-jaw and into her skull to arrange themselves in proper order and priority, forming coherent sentences and statements. Orders. Requests. Death knells.​

It wasn't long until explosions rocked the streets, blaster fire screamed through the air, and soldiers clashed on the ground as armadas met in the atmosphere.​

The Major hunkered down behind her cover, acknowledging the information fed into her systems by the bladed droid socketed into her shoulder. She had chosen a nest for herself, making the most of her countless hours of training and the peace she found in surprising solitude, a place where she could focus. The place that had damned her to this titanium cage forever.​

The crown of Fortress Imperator.​

Quickly, she reloaded her rifle and rolled back out, scramble cloak fluttering back over her frame to conceal her from detection systems, and zeroed in, gazing at the battlefield below through the narrow tunnel of her scope. A Sith Imperial battalion was pressing hard on a squadron of NIO troopers whose armor bore the familiar winged skull insignia of her former comrades. Doom Division. On the front line, as always, bullet sponges scattered amongst ranks of shocktroopers to utterly obliterate any who faced them. The horrors of the walking dead combined with the snap-decision making of elite commandos. Strasza sighed some wistful note as her finger brushed the trigger and swiftly torqued it backwards, suffering no consequence of recoil as her weapon fired its silent round.​

The slug rocketed towards the group, splattering their dark armors in the bloody brain matter of the one The Major assumed was their commanding officer. She grinned as the expected scurry and rush for cover unraveled in her sight, each trooper running for cover. "If you didn't want me to shoot you in the head, you shouldn't have brought one so big." The sniper muttered to herself as she swept around, pivoting on her elbow to check the left of the group she had silently vowed to defend.​

Down in the streets she caught sight of a familiar group moving in between the streaking threads of chaos, the Ghost Vipers. The back of their commander surging at the head of the effort. She shifted her hips, leveling her rifle on their position, sweeping the path ahead of them. "DIAMOND_SNAKE, this is DEADER, covering you boys, over." The cyborg droned through the channel, mere seconds before a trio of Sith Imperial troopers rushed around the corner ahead of the commandos. Strasza's trigger-finger flicked and flexed, squeezing the trigger as she fired rapid shots, unimpeded by the normal restraint of a fleshy marksman.​

Her targets dropped in sequence, clean shots, one after another. All but one were motionless, and she trusted Djorn and his men to solve that problem. She slid out the clip of her rifle and tucked it in between two posts of her battlement, exchanging the magazine for a fresh one. These damn Sith were eating her slugs like candy. ​

She could only hope she had brought enough ammunition.​

Another roll out from cover and she focused back on the Ghost Vipers, sweeping the rooftops over their advancing position now. "I don't think so, hon." She mumbled to herself as the gleaming edge of a trooper rearing back to throw some sort of charge down onto the unit caught her eye. A flick of her wrist angled her weapon in minor adjustment and she swiftly pulled the trigger, sending another bullet screaming through the air towards the soldier's shoulder. The high velocity round splintered his armor on impact, knocking him backwards into his comrades as the charge clattered to the rooftop, rolling off the back edge to explode away from the NIO's troops.​

"Shit- DIAMOND_SNAKE, you've got a building crumbling on your three, eyes up-" She warned the company, keeping an eye as the rubble started its rapid slide and buckle, shedding integrity. The Sith Imperials left standing on the top scrambled, rushing for safety. The perfect distraction for the quickly forgotten sniper to send a lead-kiss through the back of another helmet. "-the path on your left, coming up, go that way, over."​

Another bout of suppressive fire sang from the mouth of her rifle as she forced the impeding Sith Imperials to cover. ​

She definitely didn't bring enough ammo.​

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Tag: Pom Stych Tivé
Equipment: In sig
NPCs:
Kyber Dark Exogen-class Shadow Troopers x8

​

Bastion...

It was the New Imperial Orders gem of a Fortress world. Though I was not there to assist in its past taking of the planet. Though I was not there to assist in Operation Kyber Dark, It seemed that I would get to finally live out such a experience and thus far it was chaos incarnate. Atmosphere became the host for aerial combat and far above lay the vast spread of Sith-Imperial vessels seeking out their own perceptions of revenge. Shuttles had already started their descent toward the planet.

I delighted in watching them ignite into flaming pieces under the rain of our own gun emplacements and artillery fire. " Jon, Shall we order the evacuation of the Maximillian Heights?" One of the Shadow troopers in my detail asked. I let him wait for a response for quite some time. It was only when he began to stir that I responded. " No. There is no where for them to go. The Sith are already here." I turned around sharply. " Round up some locals willing to spread the news and tell them to gather the strong to fight for your Empire. Those who dont will be remembered as cowards. For those types tell them simply to bunker down and prepare." I could feel my lungs out of breath.

Breathe. Breathe.
My hearth was pounding.

" Prepare them for what?" The soldier asked tilting his head and I could only raise a brow in question. This was one of the men on my detail to hunt down the enemy? I gave him no verbal response. Shifting my eyes toward the heavily crowded residential district. I could only shake my head. Even now citizens were still moving from place to place. Market's still remained open selling goods and embracing consumerism up til the end. And the end was near.

" We hold this location..."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

"What. Are you doing. In my room?"​

The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

 

[Enlil]

He stared implacably down at the world below. Bastion was the seat of Imperial power, a testament to their Will of Defiance. It was the symbol that said they would stand against the Sith and their tyranny, and a promise of order to their people. With Tavlar indisposed, it fell to the Moff Council and their fellows to enact the law and protect the people. This was one of the few places in their space that should have remained sacrosanct.

Now, the sky was fire.

Chaos erupted in the early evening, just before nightfall. The brilliant pastels were stained by the silhouettes of destroyers. An inorganic eclipse symbolized that the peace they brought to Bastion was at its end. Whether sunrise brought a return to that, or a bitter, longer lasting night remained to be seen. The King of Ketaris came to give counsel, but he found himself plagued by other things.

He looked up now, to where the Sith fleet loomed. Impending disorder. His expression soured.

"My lord?"

​

I'm writing this letter because I can't tell you the truth. Never in my life have I struggled with honesty, except with myself. Now that I've realized it, I can't move forward. Not until I say what needs to be said. Even if you never hear it.

You've been the light in my darkest hours. When I needed a friend, you were always there. When things fell to pieces, you helped me pick them up. Even if you can't see it, you're the one good thing I have. And it's not fair to you. I take burden upon burden, give myself endless tasks, and burn myself out like a candle because it keeps me out of my own thoughts. I wouldn't put that weight on you. I can't.

I've never had to tell anyone, "I am a King." Until I met you, people were afraid to tell me the things they kept buried. You've never cared about that. To you, I have only ever been Enlil. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to give myself over to my feelings, rather than to push them away. But I can't feel that. I have a duty to my people.

​

"Enemies have breached atmosphere," she looked manic, lost without direction. "The Sith have come back." Her voice was haunted. Shara was an Imperial Officer who served in the Braxant campaign, and a survivor of the Sith Imperial regime. "I never thought-"

"Power," he interjected. "They have lost their power. In desperation, they lash out to reclaim it. Never underestimate the venomous nature of narcissists, Officer," the King snapped. "Your fear gives them power over you. Cast it aside, along with everything else unnecessary to hold this world."

"My lord Enlil, I-" he could feel her anguish. Enlil could taste the memories that vexed her, and the invective horror laced in them. "I can't... I can't..."

Shara sank to her knees. The Sith had done all the damage they needed to this world. Its people lived in fear of their conquest and return to power. The disenfranchised, suffering men and women who remained after they burned three entire worlds feared losing everything.

If they even survived.

Enlil placed a hand on her shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably. "You are relieved, Shara," he spoke softly, eyes closed. "Retreat to the fleet and await orders from the Council. I will not make you watch Bastion suffer again."

The woman could not form words. She barely managed a salute as she got to her feet and kept her eyes on the floor. Embarrassment. Shame. Terror. "You have done nothing wrong," he said. "It is the duty of those with power to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I will do my duty," Enlil promised. "In return, promise me. You will continue living. Not in the past, but for the future."

​

In my time, I believed myself infallible. I never told you this, but I had a fiancé. Her name was Samhira.

When the Rakata came, a farmer came to me in horror. The things he claimed to have seen were beyond words, horrific in a way I only came to believe once I witnessed them firsthand. Samhira tried to convince me to listen, and I struck her.

I never had the opportunity to apologize. I never saw her again. I vowed to myself that if I ever had an opportunity to listen, and to act for the best interest of others even at the expense of my pride, I would not fail. Never again.

That is why I must bury these feelings deep down, where they cannot impede my duty, and where they will never hurt you.

​

Shara stiffened for a moment. Her eyes darted around the room, only stopping for a moment to linger on the others. "You have many other duties to attend," he reminded her. "Bastion is my responsibility. Not yours. Keep this Imperium alive, even should I fall."

Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her face. The King turned away. "See that she makes it to a transport safely," he called out over the sound of landing craft. Sith Imperials flooded the streets. Something foul tainted the air, and his gaze skimmed the skyline. "This battle is no longer avoidable. I will be joining the fray personally," he announced.

"My King!"

"Anyone who wishes to join the Sargeant Major has my leave to do so," he said. "Everyone here is a survivor. None of you have anything to prove to anyone."

"If you die-"

"I should have died long ago," he replied bitterly. "If freedom costs my life, it is a small price."

A frenzied shuffle of salutes returned. "We will defend Bastion," the man said in a harsh voice. Enlil could hear the conflict in his voice. "This is my home." He swallowed dryly. "Please permit me to remain, my King."

Enlil locked eyes with the man for a moment, then nodded silently. He looked once more to the city of Ravelin, now plagued by rising pillars of smoke and the foul smell of burning flesh.

It had begun.

​

Tomorrow, I go to Bastion. The Imperium is without a leader, and I refuse to fail Tavlar. I refuse to fail the people of the New Empire. Until my watch ends, I will continue to fight. To serve.

And so, I am writing this letter so there is nothing left unsaid.

With love,
Enlil.

​

He stepped out of the building and into chaos. Flames erupted from emaciated ruins, the hollowed out corpses of homes and businesses. Sith Imperials disrupted the everyday lives of the people as they made their way to the heart. The regular citizens were only collateral damage: this was a personal grudge, hatred toward the New Imperials for depriving them of their sovereignty.

It was something that those in power now had to answer. For the people who were burning, anguished, and dying over petty spats for control. The Sith could not relinquish their grandiose desires, and the Imperials refused to cave to petulant outbursts.

Now, it was time to act In Loco Parentis.

Enlil set aside his rage. He strode forward through a sea of screaming citizens, straight toward where the enemy awaited. The King would find them, and he would force their surrender, as many tries as it took.

Failure was no longer an option.

 

[Areyon]

ALLIES: NIO | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS | OPEN
ENEMIES: TSE | CIS | OPEN
Gear: Lightsaber Pike, Armor

The Omega was to make their stand here.

With each rumble, the walls of the tunnels threatened to cave in on itself. The explosions from the service would rock the structure of the tunnels, but it would not shake the Imperial Knights. The Sith would try to be the explosion, the force that would attempt to knock them out of place after the attack of Dantooine. But they will not go down easily. They will stand.

Twelve Omega Guards entered into the tunnels, only seven remained. The Sith continued their deadly assault, and it was killing them off slowly.

"BACK! BACK!" Areyon yells out to the Omegas in the front of the group who desperately raise their shields to defend themselves. It seemed like the Sith who battered the tunnels were endless.

Another Omega fell. A stray round that had ricocheted off of a wall hit him straight in the neck. The body fell as if it were in slow motion, only to hit the ground with a thud to make time resume. Only one remained in the front for cover, seven remained overall. The entire Force Corps was split up into different groups of people, but through the network of tunnels, they were bound to get lost, just as he was.

More rounds began to pelter the men. They would be overwhelmed if they did not act fast. Areyon grabbed the collar of the Omega in front and pulled him back towards his chest. He then raised his hand, reaching within the Force to grab the ceiling portion of the tunnel, and pulled down hard. A low rumble followed the action, and the tunnel had been closed off.

Areyon turned to see a large open chamber, with stone engravings upon the wall. An empty room, with no purpose attached to it. He walked closer to the wall, and lay his hand upon it. His hand fell slowly, rubbing his fingers against the bumps and dents of the engraving. Areyon closed his eyes and allowed himself to hear the message the engravings had to give.

An Omega stood, his voice loud and strong. "Sir! What are we to do! We cannot just sit around and-"

"Be QUIET!" Areyon yelled back at him, the echo of his yelling voice cycled through the chamber. The Guard never more

The engraving told the story of a man. A man who was looking for a light in his world of darkness. The darkness consumed everything in its path and it gave the man less and less hope of finding the light. But through his own will to succeed and discovering of purpose, he found that light and all was well.

Areyon put the pieces together quickly in his head. The Omega Guard was the man, searching for that light in the looming darkness. That darkness would be the Sith, they consume all of what is there and leave nothing but destruction as a reminder. The light represented the goal. To protect Bastion. To protect their home. The story reinvigorated Areyon, who would reinvigorate his men.

"Omegas! The time is now to make our stand and do our due diligence to the New Imperial Order! Grab your weapons! Let the blood flow! Those Sith dogs will not make us back down!"

The group of Imperial Knights started to yell with their leader. A new fire was born within those men and the upcoming battle would make it grow into a burning inferno.

"Forget all other directives! You now have one order!"

"STAND!"
​