Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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


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Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Dagoth | Closed

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

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「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 Darth Daiara
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「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.


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Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Dagoth | 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 Darth Daiara
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「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?"


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Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Dagoth | Closed

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.


FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL

Darth Daiara Darth Daiara
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「AS THE DEAD SIGH」



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?"


The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."


 
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K N I G H T
NEW JEDI ORDER
BASTION | RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT

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The Force always worked in mysterious ways, its mystics studied tirelessly generations upon generations. But just like its mysteries, so too did the wider Galaxy at play. He and his fellow Jedi were distraught by their defeat at Dantooine, unable to liberate it from Darkness and return the former glory of the temple that still was desecrated as a gathering for the Sith and their ugly machinations. A defeat they faced as the Dark Creed found aid in those that the Jedi could trust in. Something that dumbfounded him, feeling the cold sense of betrayal as they were undermined and their efforts sabotaged.

But even after defeat, they wouldn’t surrender the fight.

He vowed to keep the peace as a Jedi, but that peace was disturbed by those that worshipped and acted upon evil. As long as those that committed to the teachings of the Dark Side remain there would be no peace in the Galaxy.

Destroy the Sith we must.
That was his ultimatum, and there was no withdrawing from it.

“Focus, concentrate,” the Nautolan said to his pupil, Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Mrurh'en'lase | Hel , a Jedi that he had taken as his Padawan. Teacher and student were in the early stages of understanding each other, learning from one another; it gave insight to what Rhis could also improve as a Knight. There was much potential within the Chiss, but there was much trouble clouding and influencing her mind. Many in the Order believed that Rhis’ stern discipline would be a good fit for Hel.

They were far from the temple on Coruscant as Rhis was committed to the war against the Sith, not having the leisure of staying too long on Coruscant with the rest of his Jedi brothers and sisters. Thus, Rhis requested Hel’s presence on Bastion to continue her training as her mentor. Accommodations were made for them from the generosity of the Imperials. The Jedi believed this fortress world would not be touched anytime soon, certainly not after delivering defeat to the Sith in the heart of the decadent empire. A good place to practice and train.

“Clear your mind, do not let any foreign thoughts interrupt your-“

And then...

...the cold.

He felt it just before the klaxons rung and violence breaking out.

“Hel, grab your lightsaber and heed my orders. The Sith are here. Follow what I say and we will make out of this.”

He was in shock to learn the events transpiring before them. He didn’t believe the Sith would be so bold to organize an assault on Bastion. He needed to ease his mind, regain his focus. He was responsible for his student now in a war zone, and it was his responsibility to make sure she would survive.

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Mrurh'en'lase | Hel
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Vora Kaar Vora Kaar
 

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V A N D A L
VANDAL SQUAD 6/6
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades

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NOTHING TO GAIN, NOTHING TO LOSE

"What made you sign up for it? To become a Storm Commando?"

"Don't ever even remember signing up for it, pretty sure it's just in my blood."


"You think we got a chance to make it through selection?"

"They picked us because we're the best, no point in thinking otherwise."

RAVELIN OUTSKIRTS
ZERO HOUR
POINT EPSILON

<"Charges set...building marked Epsilon-2-3 is set to blow."> A voice came through the squad commo. A skyscraper, one of many. The detonation of the barradium charges strategically placed in the structural beams would send it down and along an open corridor, to block a means of ground advancement from the Sith troops bearing down into Ravelin.

While this was an act of self harm, to lay waste to the city that the New Order had paid for in the lives of thousands to take. The beating heart of their Empire constructed atop the graves of the betrayed, the Sith.

Oh well, whatever it took to keep it.

They'd break Bastion if meant breaking the Sith dogs who lurched into their holy ground again.

It was a morbid return to form for the Storm Commando.

This was the very venue where he lost it all, his original squad. The men with him through the thick of it on Muunilinst, Fornax, every dingy deployment in between were burnt to ash in an instant. They were gone, the brothers which he'd crafted a bond deeper than blood. Through the strenous training and conditioning, the mind breaking physical torture of trials that it took to become a Storm Commando, they were tempered past the breaking point all as one.

And he was the sole survivor.

This new squad, he could never stomach being the leader to them. They were just as good, they were the best and they'd proven it several times.

He just had to kill his past, make peace with the ghosts that roamed his mind...this city.

Fear inoculated, anger tempered, resolve his armor.

It was time to make war.

<"Copy- point Epsilon is secure, this road is good to burn."> Point Epsilon, right at the front, one of the first due to be hit by the impending assault.

Fitting, that they were given the support they were. Sith Imp prisoners, dressed down to a disgraced variant of their panoply of war to the each of them.

<"Prisoners...perfect, just what the doctor ordered."> One of the Commandos, Fredrik, an Echani, said with his voice doused in cynicism. The position ahead was being overrun, the parceled together Stormtrooper company barely enough to hold the line against the Sith column, sent ahead to make contact, skirmish the enemy and secure an avenue to evacuate civilians further back.

<"Using their own tactics against em now are we?">

<"The way of man, we have our tribe, they have theirs. I'm here to protect my men and kill the enemy, nothing more...far as these parasites are concerned? Fuck em.">
Berik mouthed with bitterness in his voice.

<"How'd you feel if you saw our boys being herded around by them?">

<"I'd weep for anyone stupid enough to let the Sith get ahold of them, anyone I've lost worth serving with in that position went down with a blaster in their hand or a blaster to their head. Speaking of which...if we're overrun here...you know what the call is right?">
Berik said, looking to his comrade, who offered a nod in return.

<"Broken Arrow."> A long established code word to order an airstrike on a friendly unit destined to be overrun and destroyed. Taking many more with them on the way out, to put it simply.

<"Wouldn't have it any other way."> He stated before he advanced down the incline of rubble to the established leader of the Sith prisoner troopers. An old head, a Sith Legionnaire veteran.

"Sir." He said in regards to the Storm Commando Captain who offered a nod, resting his hands on the blaster rifle slung over his chest.

He took a glance to the rank bars on his chest, it was a universal language shared between the two militaries.

<"Captain. You and your unit are moving up past Epsilon to relieve the 77th Company, Red Rider legion. Order them to pull back to my hex grid.">

He could tell the Sith Imp wanted to spit on him, not that it'd be much use. The Sith wouldn't be any kinder to those who'd let themselves be taken prisoner by the New Imperials, the 'traitors' either of them could only imagine.

"Understood, we'll get on the move." He said with a nod and the PoW platoon kept moving forward. Eyeing the state of the position ahead, he doubted they would last long with the Sith advance taking use of the overwhelming fire doctrine came their way.

But Berik could only assume they weren't meant to survive.

<"Ready our position to move back, as soon as the 77th is at Epsilon, we're torching it and headed back to Dorn."> Berik states to his unit. With them, two more platoons of 307th, one specialized as jump troops and another, armored.

<"Copy. I'm gonna try and ping artillery targets in the mean time.">

<"Noted, send it all back to Tyrell Paxxus Tyrell Paxxus , he's overlord.">

<"Got the ping from Hellion...Tarkin has Fallen.">
No more higher alarm for the New Imperial defense.

<"Doesn't matter, doesn't change anything."> Berik replied.

Clearly, there was a double time involved and a hundred and twenty seconds later, troopers from the 77th began to funnel unto Epsilon.

<"Alright, we're in the clear.">


<"Noted. General Willan Tal Willan Tal , this is Vandal Actual at point Episilon. We're closing off this position and pulling back to point Dorn, we'll establish a choke point there. The Sith are continuing their advance but...should be able to buy you some time. See you and the Galidraani boys on the other side, Vandal out.">
He spoke through the strategic command's commo.

<"We're burning this road, care to do the honors, Hraskinn?"> He inquired the way of the sharpshooter who had just consolidated with Vandal and the other stormtroopers on the way down from his overwatch position.

He nodded once, put an input to his tacpad and like that the uniform shocks of percisely placed rail charges ignited the structural beams of the skyscraper they stood in the shadow of. With the weight of the explosives distributed to discriminate disproportionately to one side, they could control the path of its fall...which happened to cross along the major roadway nearest to them.

To ground troopers, wheeled vehicles, the PoW troopers and low power repulsors, this pathway was closed. Those Sith prisoners would have no option but to fight to the death.

They were moving closer to the 'capital' district proper, where he could only assume the Sith would concentrate the might of their offensive and capture the symbolic victory of re conquering Imperator and shredding the 'defacing' of their once great city that the New Imperials had done unto it.

Good.

Means there would be hordes of them willing to bleed and die for it.

ALLIES | NIO | Djorn Bline Djorn Bline | Lyra Voi’kryt | Creuat Creuat | Willan Tal Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus Tyrell Paxxus | Meko Sorrin Meko Sorrin | Zakaria Black Zakaria Black | FN-999 Vostok Grau
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Luna Terrik Luna Terrik | UX-0626 UX-0626 | Iasha Rha Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru | Dimitri Voltura | Kesran Opadal Kesran Opadal
 

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PADAWAN | NEW JEDI ORDER
BASTION | RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
Lightsaber | Suit
Creuat Creuat | Vora Kaar Vora Kaar

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“Focus, concentrate."

Even if the words had come out of the mouth of Grand Master Yoda or Skywalker themselves, Hel would have found it difficult. Even still, he said those words, again and again, his voice as clear and concise as any Jedi Master’s could be. She hated that, as viscerally and petulantly as any Jedi Padawan’s could be. Or at least, any Jedi Padawan who wanted to skip the nonsensical talking and get straight to the action like her, which in truth wasn’t even fair to herself.

She loved studying, adored it even, as well as diving into the intricate threads of the Force and finding new and gratifying aspects about it to devour and learn. But something on this day was different. She could not describe it any other way beyond the feeling she would get when trade with the smugglers on Nar Shaddaa was about to go bad.

Every urge she had from the slums, the alleyways, the cargo ships, and the slave rings was telling her - begging her - to pick up her weapon and strike down the enemy before they could even appear.


"Strike at ghosts?" she scoffed to herself. "Phantoms aren't exactly going to get me to knighthood. No...listen to your Master and follow his instructions..."

And how her fingers shivered and bent as that feeling began to turn to voices, the same voices she heard in the darkness of the alleyways and even the darkness of her room in Coruscant’s Temple. The dark, slithering fear, wet from some murky swamp of evil in the recesses of her mind, pleading with her to not let them die, to let it take over and let them live.

"Come on...let us drive the ship for a moment," they said in a disjointed chorus. "Let us...survive."

Each time, she had pushed it away, but each time it had drawn closer than before. And she was terrified of it, yet had chosen to not confide in her Master with this matter. What could he tell her that the others had not already said?

She tried, all the same, to do as her Master had asked of her, trying so very hard to gird herself in the veil of silence that she had begun to work on to drown out that fear and that horrible voice. A shroud, a blanket perhaps, of a vacuum for only her.

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The world around her began to fall, the silence rising and washing over her as the room came apart at the seams. She opened her eyes, momentarily absent the untempered disgruntlement that was common in them, and bore her clear sight upon a calm warm space with distant starlight forming an ocean of constellations and galaxies yet to be visited. Repeating the demand from a formation in the far tides, the voice of her master was remote, but comforting like a parent’s would be.

Then she heard it. A deep humming richness that brought her now confused gaze to her right for but a moment and she saw it immediately. The approaching thing that radiated such inspiring and frightful celestial might that the Hybrid nearly awoke from the space in a start, yet found herself fixed in place. It drew closer and she could see that it was misty, yet filled with light and beauty that felt like the heart-song of every Jedi in the Netherworld awaiting the arrival of their brothers and sisters. A beacon, possibly.

No. Something more.

It reached for her. A single tendril filled with sparkling moonlight that all but seemed to beckon her with a grandmother’s gentleness. She could not be sure of what this was and could only, in her young naivety, assume that this was the Light, calling for another one of its children as troubled as they were. As greedy and violent as they were. Yet, despite wanting to believe this, Hel became tentative and slow and kept her hand at her sides.

Scared.


“Should I reach for it?” she thought to herself as the light pulsed like a heart. “What if...what if it’s a trick? What if it’s a lie?”

“Focus, concentrate,” the formless living epoch whispered in a voice Hel could not place, yet distinctly remembered hearing many times before. Loving. Caring.

She finally began to reach out, cautious but ultimately willingly, and could feel a smile begin to form on h-

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Cold ice cracked through the horizon and the moonlight was cast aside and far away. The Hybrid began to tumble down in the void, screaming farther and farther into a pit that began to fill with burning flames and a cackling, discordant laugh of something primordial and eternal. Something she could feel watching her in the dead of night, even in the Jedi's bulwark. The Dark Side. Always consuming.

Imperceivable hands reached around her from the pit below and grasped her arms, waist, head, legs, chest to pull her down with increased haste. The flames began to burn through her skin and muscle to her bones, charring her framework to near cinders and kindling. This was it. The end before the beginni-


“Hel, grab your lightsaber,” her Master demanded, loudly, breaking through the evil and pulling her back onto Bastion. Harried teary eyes looked upon him and his stoic visage, somewhat in awe at the power of light surrounding him in an aura. Yet, in her stupor, she was unaware of his own shock at the events that seemed to have come without warning. Or warning she had refused to fully regard. “Heed my orders. The Sith are here. Follow what I say and we will make out of this.”

And how her fingers shivered and bent upon the cold titanium hilt of her lightsaber.

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



The Moff listened as several officers reported in. The holo started to activate. The Ensign signaled that it was a priority two hail.

"Admiral Lyken, how long has it been". A normally sized human appeared on the small bridge holocom located on the control console in front of him.
That voice, Jorlent, he knew it was him. He turned his head to see who he predicted it to be.

"It is now Moff Lyken, Captain Jorlent, surely you can show some respect".


"Yes of course, sir, I would never mean to disrespect you, no, not at all, ha". The Captain chuckled at the end of his clearly sarcastic line.

"Oh Jorlent, you were never one to respect command, and I assume that your Star Destroyer is the one up in flames currently", said the Moff as he looked towards the burning wreck of one of the Baras-class destroyers.

"Ummm no sir, I was commanding the other, the one currently returning to the fleet's center line, as requested". The Captain was clearly lying, he could usually tell apart a lie and Drybis could tell especially with Jorlent.

"Captain, put the real commander on the holo, Now!"

The Captain backed down, "Umm yes sir, she's right here". A young woman now appeared and immediately stated her status. "Moff Lyken, Commander Dreara Arandis reporting sir".

"Commander, losing control of your bridge?".

"No sir, the Captain threatened me with sedition and detainment if he was not allowed to address you, I humored him, knowing his claims were false and with no merit". "I apologize if that was....irregular".

"No Commander, no harm was done, it is always fun to put down incompetent officers like Jorlent once and a while, especially when you're like me and can no longer enjoy the fruits of the Admiralty".

"Very good sir, shall I have the Captain detained under your orders?"

"Tell me Commander, how long did it take from when he arrived until his ship was lost?".

"30 minutes sir, maybe less, the Captain acted with impunity and complete disregard for sensible naval tactics".

"Hmm, understood Commander, have him demoted to Commander and placed under detainment until the battle is won, I don't want his incompetence possibly ruining our future triumph here". "And also Commander, your ship will lead the vanguard of the fleet when I commence the attack, understood?"

He could hear in the background Jorlent kicking and screaming like a child as he was being taken to detainment. "Yes sir, very good, I will move my ship to the vanguard rally line immediately, Commander Arandis out". She gave a stern salute that Drybis immediately answered as her holo disappeared moments after.

As he turned back to look at the planet ahead, he spotted a familiar ship, the
Rae Sloane. It was commanded by Fiolette Fortan, someone he had never met, but had heard about. He had however seen that ship before, though he wasn't sure where, it must have been long ago. Nonetheless, he still recognized it. He always had a solution and now it was time for what he called his 'Thrawn solution'.

"Major Enrak", said the Moff as he called for his archival officer. Moments later he was by his side. The bookish officer with a slightly hunched back spoke, "Y..Y...Yessir, Major Enrak reporting".


"Good, Major I want you to go my archives next to my quarters and bring me the book on Imperial-II class Star Destroyer engines & hyperdrives".

The Major was clearly in thought. "Understood?"


"Yes sir, I know where it is, yes I do, I'll retrieve it right now", the Major raced out of the bridge and zoomed down the halls preceding.

"Alright then", Drybis thought to himself.

As the Major exited, soon afterwards, Grand Moff Aut-X entered the bridge. Moff Lyken had no idea he would be here so soon, let alone walking up behind him.

The Grand Moffs' words rang true but gave a slight shock to the experienced naval man. "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."


"Grand Moff Aut-X", said the Moff, who was a bit shocked and soon bowed his head out of respect. A bit shook for a second, Drybis soon responded thoroughly, "this is a good surprise, I wasn't told you would be observing from my ship, but we are honored to have you regardless".

"Yes Grand Moff, almost all ships are accounted for expect a few Tammar-class Corvettes, but they are currently engaged, so they might be being jammed by the New Imperial Fleet. We also were expecting the Dantooine Flee.....".

At that exact moment, the Fleet of Onrai Onrai exited hyperspace to his right where there were few ships before. He looked and saw the Gorgon, the massive dreadnought exited with numerous Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruisers at its hip.

"I guess I spoke too soon sir, looks like the Dantooine Fleet has arrived and now that almost all ships are accounted for, its time for the terms".

Drybis walked towards the bridge's control console placed beneath the main viewport of the bridge. He pressed the comm and spoke on all Sith-Imperial channels in the vicinity.

"Attention All Sith-Imperials, This is Fleet Command, over, this is Fleet Command". Time for his makeshift speech. "Today comrades, we take back a place that we once held dear". "Our former capital, Our Beloved Bastion, it will be reclaimed!". "These New Imperials are what they call themselves". "In truth, they are nothing but traitors, thieves, and fools". "Will you let these foolish traitors desecrate your former capital any longer?". He raised his voice to signify his passion. On his bridge and he was sure on many others, the crew shouted in unison, "NO!".


"Good, all crews to battle stations, prepare for immediate engagement". Many behind started to scramble to reach their stations, some on the bridge, some on the lower decks. As his crew scrambled into actions as many others were, Drybis finished his speech. "Follow your orders, No surrender, No retreat".

He paused shortly.

"And lastly........No Quarter, I repeat.....No Quarter!". His crew behind him erupted with more cheers as they moved around to prep "The Wrath" for engagement.


He turned back to the Grand Moff, "Well sir, if you have any recommendations on how to proceed, now is the time, the attack is to begin shortly", said Lyken with respect and deference.


Theme: The Web of Space

 
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InvasionBastion_RavelinStroked.png
Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Time: 1200 Hours
Allies: TSE ( Iasha Rha Iasha Rha Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru Kesran Opadal Kesran Opadal ) │ CIS ( Luna Terrik Luna Terrik Dimitri Voltura)
Enemies: NIO ( Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask FN-999 Willan Tal Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran Meko Sorrin Meko Sorrin Zakaria Black Zakaria Black Djorn Bline Djorn Bline Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt )
Theme:
cry.

They had come under the last light of sunset.

Dropships screamed from the heavens, met with the fire of the apostates and their heretical war cries every step of the way as Legionnaires sought to remove the Imperial barbarians from their entrenched positions. UX-0626 had been among them, utilizing the precision cannon she had been entrusted with to cover her brothers and sisters in their assault on the stolen strongholds of Bastion. Blaster fire had streamed from all directions, periodically forcing her head down as she scanned for targets, before taking one, two, and three stormtroopers out with precise shots to the chest during her first salvo, decisive shots to turn the tide of the engagement in just one of the innumerable landing zones designated within the city. She had cut down two more of the white-armored troopers before she was finished, felling them with orbs of burning fusion plasma to the skull, thereby allowing her comrades to pour into the New Imperial defense lines over the corpses of Sith and New Imperial dead.

Every inch, paid in blood.

With the landing zone secure, 626 had stayed behind with a few other Legionnaires, preparing for the next stage of the assault as their Confederate allies arrived to reinforce them. They were not familiar to the Hapan strand-cast, their armor a similar, if not a nigh-identical pattern to that of the stormtroopers she had engaged only hours before. While they were still a welcome presence, the sniper nonetheless viewed them with some degree of apprehension, as she was trained to do.

Staying close to her Legionnaire and Sith peers as the Dauntless commander gave her briefing, 626 placed her helmet over her cyan head, the vacuum seal fortifying itself with a soft hiss as she readied herself for the assault. All the while, the voice of the Eternal Lord spoke to her in her mind, reminding her of his indomitable, all-eclipsing will that would bathe the stars under the sanctity of darkness. Unity in purpose, honor in service, and salvation in sacrifice, all in his name, her creator, her protector, and her shrouded father.

Whatever it took.

With a deep breath, 626 moved into her assigned dropship, securing herself into a seat in pensive silence, in the moments before she would be cast into the fire once more...


 
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S W O R N S W O R D
S W O R N S W O R D

BASTION
ALLIES: NIO | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
ENEMIES: SITH | TSE | CIS
EQUIPMENT: LIGHTSABER | VOULGE | ARMOR
Broken chains lay at the feet of the supposed Sith Emperor. Imperials, tired of the complacency and heavy-handed tyranny of the Sith, rebelled against their masters. Under the banner of the New Imperial Order, the Imperials swept across the Braxant Run. An insatiable force the Imperials splintered The Sith Empire and under 'Kyber Dark' slaughtering all Sith who stood against them. After Bastion fell, the NIO advance finally stalled at Dantooine. Believing this recent setback to be a sign of weakness, the Sith launched a counteroffensive looking to regain the momentum they desperately needed to save their dying empire.

The Sith's attempt for revenge was swift, their force attacking Bastion quickly. A massive fleet came out of hyperspace, seemingly endless waves of Sith forces that enveloped the planet. Yet one Imperial Knight-Master stood ready. Clad in black and blue armor, a white cape following behind him, in his right hand a mighty voulge ready strike down those who would harm the people of Bastion. Having sworn an oath to protect the New Imperial Order and it's people, he would not flinch from his duty.

Arminius. Born of a great family, swore his lightsaber to the cause of the New Imperial Order. His father was a true Imperial, stretching from a dynasty that was over eighter hundred years old. His mother was a mysterious woman who died at the hands of Sith Assassins. Before she died, she discovered that her son was force-sensitive. Not wishing her son to be corrupted by the dark side, she sent him to train with a remnant faction of the Imperial Knights. There Arminius learned the light and neutral aspects of the force. He discovered that real power came not from the manipulation of emotions. Rather that when one stopped grasping, after power, after things, even after life itself. Now he would use that training to stop the Sith from enslaving the Imperial people.

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A woman fell to her knees. A child clutched in her arms, tears streaming from her eyes. The child wailed as the mother tried to find her footing. A large crowd of civilians rushed around and past her, fleeing to the safety of the evacuation zones. Stricken with fear, their thoughts absent from those who needed help the most. The sounds of battle thundered in the distance, growing closer with each passing minute. Amidst the confusion, madness, and chaos, the armor-clad figure that was Arminius slammed the end of his halberd-like weapon against the ground. The sound was enough to grind the terrified crowd to almost to a halt.
"Steel Yourselves!" Arminius shouted to the civilians. "The Sith feed upon palpable dread! Show courage and order, even in the face of defeat. Show them you are more than mindless slaves who run in fear and cower at their very presence!"

His hand reached down and helped the woman and her child back to their feet. Her face, once stricken with fear, now seemed to stare at the Imperial Knight in disbelief. Arminius scanned the area to find a young officer, who looked to play more of a support role than one who was trained for combat.

"Lieutenant! Lead these people to the evacuation zone." Arminius said to the young officer. "Send light infantry to funnel the civilians in an orderly fashion to the evacuation areas. Women and children first, men of fighting age last. See if you can find vibro-blades and blasters for the ones who seem capable."

The young officer was so nervous he forgot to salute. Given the current situation, Arminius let it slide. He watched as the officer led the crowd of civilians who now followed in a more orderly fashion. Yet soon his attention was drawn the sounds of battle which were growing closer, and chatter on the comms about 'TARKIN HAS FALLEN'. It was going to be a long and costly fight.
 
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InvasionBastion_SpaceStroked.png

Objective: Defend NIO Fleet
Allies: Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Savoh Muska | Naier Rambeigh Naier Rambeigh
Enemies: Thaelius Thaelius | Seela Leini Seela Leini | Onrai Onrai | Moff Drybis Lyken Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Aut-X

----

In Hyperspace

His cold gaze stared ahead at the blue-white spiral. Many saw hyperspace travel as a convenient way to travel across the galaxy. But only a few knew it's true power. The destruction and pain it could cause. One second you are peacefully speeding along. The next, your ship is being torn apart. Only firsthand could you experi...

"Admrial Harz, the fleet is about to drop out of hyperspace."

Snapping his head to the left he found the man who just spoke. He was standing close to one of the control panels of the bridge. The Vicious Rancor had many new crew members aboard it, and it seems he had found one of them. Rotating his full body he faced the speaker, hands clasped behind his back.

"What have I told all of you about interrupting me mid-thought? Never do it! If we weren't short-membered after Dantooine, I would have your sorry body thrown out of an airlock this instant!"

The speaker wore a scared look on his face. He quickly turned back to the controls, pretending to do something important. Disgusted, the Admrial turned back to the viewport. Within seconds the Vicious Rancor was surrounded by a bright light before dropping its speed significantly.

----

In Bastion Orbit
When the light dispersed, he was given the view of the fleets ahead. First in his view was Ms. Fortan's fleet. He had yet to learn her rank, which was a valuable piece of information he should know. It looked as they had just recently arrived. Close by was Captain Muska's fleet, small in size. He hadn't been given much chance to go over their files. All he knew was their name and fleet size. What a wonderful scenario.

Soon after the Vicious Rancor exited hyperspace, the rest of his fleet appeared as well. Four escort frigates began to draw closer toward the command ship, evenly dispersing to each side. Their surprising speed should throw the enemy off once they got closer. After a few more seconds eight assault corvettes emerged, spreading out randomly amongst the fleet.

Three squadrons of TIEs exited hyperspace last. With his strategic planning he had made sure a few squadrons were already deployed, in case they were thrown straight into the fight. The TIEs all fanned out, making quick patrol laps of the fleet.

Using his one robotic eye he zoomed in on the Sith fleet far ahead. It seemed as if the composition was the same. Good. They could fix the mistakes from Dantooine and be victorious in this battle. Still looking at the enemy fleet, he commanded that a secure channel would be opened to all New Imperial fleet.

"Attention, this is Admiral Harz of the Vicious Rancor. I have calculated that my fleet resources would best be spent defending our heavy hitting ships, rather than attacking full force. We must be strategic with our attack. No need for unnecessary losses."
 
InvasionBastion_TunnelsStroked.png


Location: Below the surface.
Enemies: OPEN to opposition.
Equipment: Location in Signature
NPC's:
Oblitus Ari tishâka x2
Oblitus Mongrels x100
Oblitus Bellatoria x40 /w Bowcasters

The very skies above cried under the assaults of the Sith-Imperial fleet. The earth, Bastions very tissues and outer flesh, rattled under the oppressive embrace of their return. The Sith had returned. With this came hunger to reclaim what was lost, what was taken and what will be. Dust rose stirred into the very air after each display of defiance by New Imperial infantry. They knew little what lied within the tunnels of this place. Thud thud thud. Each corpse a victory, vibrations sent across the flooring in ripples across a physical plane and also the force. It only fed the ever growing cloud of darkside energy.

A mere appetizer.

Skittering feet appraised the groundwork of the tunnel systems in discord. Wails and heavy gasp like sounds echoed throughout. The light did not touch the origin of such sounds. No where close. Sound was their network of travel and vast on its strings its rode till eventually abandoning its post to fall apon the anxious ears of Stormtroopers. Deep into the tunnel red orbs wafted about. Left to right. Right to left. Heavy rushed movements the suggested speed. Huddled, hunched and crawling across every surface imaginable. Red hued eyes locked on their commander. A figure covered with a mere cloak, adorned in the language of sith and patterned after its ancestors.


The brief amount of light that seemed to shine into the tunnel was reflected off facets, like that of diamond. Red in coloration and dense in structure. The texture follow along every single detail of the Gutretee's being. A high sung rattle emitted annoyingly off his thigh with every step. The sound of metal meeting its match. A lightsaber in wait and ready to be used. A silent one and yet beneath it all was fury. A storm waiting to be... set apon a world.

This world.

A single hand lifted. Red hued fingers spread out as if to grab a invisible ball. Slowly a fist was formed. A gesture that manifest the earth below his own feet to move. It followed his very thoughts and mimicked his movements. A tribal dance to move stone, debris and dirt. Each gesture shifted in frequency and speed throwing the earth about in tantrums of violent currents and solidifying into a singular dense sphere. The red hued sith sank with his creation. What amassed in front of him was nothing more than a boulder of dense stone. Stillness became the Sith Lord for a moment in time. With a heavy stance his center of gravity lowered and cocking back his fist, an explosive force was given birth. Crystal implanted into the very stone with preternatural strength and speed.

Clank!
BOOM


It began to roll forward. Weaving a path of desolation and destruction in its wake. A distraction with purpose. " Crush them." The command was voiced from the Sith Lords maw with spite. A command that was simple enough to understand and even easier to follow. Shoving past their master, the tunnel flooded with dense crystal infused fiends. Like rapid animals they whipped themselves and struck each other into a frenzy. First came the smallest of the fiends to lead the first wave. Dozens apon dozens made up their ranks. Rapidly a new species of monster grew into the stature of wookies of twisted and warped size. Carrying heavier weapons and armament. Their movements and charge was more calculated and coordinated compared to their smaller brethen. But behind them all and Darth Ledgermayne himself lurked figures of massive proportions. Bone giants of crystal, rock and stone.
 
InvasionBastion_TunnelsStroked.png
Location: Tunnels beneath Ravelin, close to Library.
Objective: Recover abandoned artefacts, slay the unworthy.
Equipment: Sith Warblade, Unspecified Talismans, Glorious Golden Mask.
Writing With: Elpsis Kerrigan Elpsis Kerrigan

In one fell swoop, the monument to the supremacy of the Sith-Imperial that was Bastion had fallen to the New Imperial dogs, crimson banners cast down and trampled underfoot, physical representations of their authority torn down or repurposed to suit the purely Imperial. To Aurum, it did not hold the significance of sacred Korriban, but it remained an enduring blight on the Empire's record, alongside everything else the traitors had done.

No matter. The true battle was one of numbers and cold attrition, vast hosts grinding themselves against each other above and around him, teeming masses of fanatics loyal to the Sith Eternal, the Iron Sun, or the meddling Jedi ripping each other to shreds in an orgy of death and destruction.

It would have been poetic had it not been so... wasteful. Still, the Galaxy had no shortage of men and women willing to die for a cause.

Striding through a particularly gloomy set of tunnels as-of-yet uncharted by the New Imperial Order's mass of bureaucrats - assuming, of course, that they had not simply strolled in, seen the dilapidated mess, and wisely put it off for another day - Aurum felt his destination approaching...

... and a disturbance in his path. Having long since learned that coincidences were rare, in a Galaxy under the yoke of the Force, the assumption that they were seeking the same thing seemed safest. Another Sith, perhaps, but he could not count on it. Picking up speed, he made no effort to remain subtle, a quick exertion of will causing his golden mask to glow with illuminating light, driving back the shadows in which the weak hid.

"You are in my way, trespasser. This world and all its contents, all its peoples, belong to the Sith - now and forever."
 

Runi Verin

Two pounds shy of a bomb.


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LOCATION: Ravelin, Bastion
OBJECTIVE: Repel invaders, escape the planet.
GEAR:
Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Phrik Bracers, Terentatek Duster, Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl, Tinfoil Hat
ALLIES: NIO (Tangiably)
ENEMIES: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | TSE


Bastion; even before it had rejoined the galaxy as yet another symbol of Sith Imperialism, Runi had hated this place. And the years stretching between her first visit to the planet and now clearly hadn't been kind. Even with the New Imperial Order's clear priority of tearing down the tributes of old to the Sith and their ways, the malevolent weight of her Grandsire's presence was unmistakable even now, echoing sinisterly in the force. Resonating with the familiarity it found in her tainted, half-breed blood.

The Kiffar suppressed a shudder and adjusted the scatterblaster slung over her shoulder. Lying to herself that it was simply a fleeting chill from standing in the long shadows cast by the Imperial Palace rather than how welcoming those same echoes felt. Now more than ever after the events of Dantooine. It wasn't only her body that had come away from those tunnels with a set of fresh scars.

But at least she had come away.

Of course, it seemed Adrian would be having the last laugh at her expense after all, seeing as how she found herself caught facing down the prospect of yet another planetary invasion for the sake of his credits. Perhaps if she cared to spend a moment thinking about it, she would notice that there was a clear lesson to be had here about the pitfalls of greed, but right now she was too busy darting through the winding halls and labyrinthine corridors of the palace. Ignoring the Imperial forces as she rapidly tapped out a short message to Amea Virou Amea Virou on a datapad in the hopes it got out before the communications were completely overrun.

'<
<Credits on route. Bastion under siege.>>' She paused as a distant boom rocked the city, the transparisteel windows rattling ominously and then again as more explosions began to ring out. Her expression tightening as she cast a glance towards the pillars of smoke slowly spiraling up from parts unknown. A dark herald of what was to come. A wry smirk creased those scarred and tattooed features in response. Either a twisted sense of humor or perhaps something born from premonition causing her to add the final section of the message. '<<Not gone yet, but might be marching away. Ret'urcye mhi, ori'vod.>>'

Job done, the spacer focused on getting to the nearest port.

 
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RAVELIN
Equipment: Crimson Dread Armor | Kingsaber | CIS Holocom




InvasionBastion_RavelinStroked.png


"Open your eyes to what the future could be and you'll never stop being disgusted with all that is around you." - Darth Malphas

The New Imperial Order. Aside from a notable rise in hubris there was little difference between this Imperial Faction and the Imperial Remnant that Adron Malvern had sworn years of his life to. Maybe that was why there were inhibitions in what came next. After all, the Sith Lord held a debt and he could not stand the stink of owing a debt to another, least of all the standing Lord of the Sith, Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis . As the obsidian boots of Darth Malphas led him up a narrow hill, his mind drifted back to the very same words he had spoken to the Dark Lord only a few weeks ago.

You have given me a very important gift. I will repay this with credits or with blood, it is for you to decide which. So the Dark Lord had chosen blood. Who would expect differently of the Master Butcher of the Sith Empire. He'd made his declarations and ironed his resolve. Bastion would fall this day.

The hill the Sith Lord stood on was quiet. It was a rocky surface a ways away from the City, but the Sith Lord imagined it would have been the perfect location for a picnic or outing. A beautiful view of the city, a nearby stream of fresh spring water, perhaps even a cool breeze and this would be the perfect place to spend a calm afternoon. The very thought caused Adron's lips to curl up into a content smile as he closed his amethyst eyes for a moment to search the Force. It was so quiet.

Until it suddenly was not.

Explosions rang out in a hellish cadence, the kinetic shocks caused from the downpouring turbolaser batteries echoing through the rock and stone and shaking the area where the Sith Lord and his apprentices stood in waiting. Adron exhaled as the beautiful city was sent into the all too recognizable flurry of alert. He could feel it. The uncertainty of what was occurring mixed with the stress of those around them falling limp and cold. Fear. It was a beautifully disgusting emotion that, in this moment, was all too familiar to Adron. How long has it been? How long has it been since the Sith Empire descended upon his world in such a manner, striking down any and everyone who stood against them. He looked down to his armored hand, the blood red gauntlets that covered his fingers,

"
These hands were weak that day..." He remembered with a somber expression. He said nothing more aloud even if his mind was a flurry of memory and inhibition. He gazed out at the sight for some time, long enough perhaps for his apprentices to wonder what came next. After some time passed he finally spoke once again.

"Prepare to enter the city. We are going to find the Imperial Officers in command here and execute them. That is the fastest way to bring this battle to a close." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned back from the view of the city to his apprentices gathered behind him, his sisters of death. The first to catch his eye was Danielle Mueller . She was young, but se had been both soldier and apprentice. If she was to grow then she must stand in the center of these atrocities and drink them in. She would not like it but she would have to accept it. The Sith Lord's hand came down upon her shoulder in a firm grip. "You will stay by Xobos' side." He commanded her. "Whenever you are not with me you will remain close to your sister. Remember your training and trust in your emotions, but do not let them rule you." He told her, before turning to his own raven-haired daughter.

She was cut from a far different cloth than Danielle and Xobos. Finally she could be released on a proper ground of battle and see her true purpose through. "Acantha." Adron spoke her name sternly, before his hand came up to hold her chin, ensuring her eyes did not falter from his own. "Hunt." He commanded her. With nothing more to say to his creation, his daughter, he would allow her to take to the skies with no chains to shackle her to what little humanity she held.

Then the man paused. The final apprentice who had accompanied him.

Xobos. This would be her first time at his side in such an engagement since he had elevated her to Sith Knight. "
You are with me?" He demanded, but the answer to that question was as clear as the morning sky. With the tasks set, the King turned to the path down from the plateau and immediately began to follow the path into the city. Pulling his lightsaber from his waist, he kept it in his hands as he approached Ravelin.


So it begins again.
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Handsome blindfolded hyper-religious whackjob
New_GA1.png


LOCATION: THE TUNNELS
OBJECTIVE II: DANGER BELOW
OPPOSITION: Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin

He should be surprised by now, the sheer numbers that the Sith Empire can bring against those that have slighted it. Considering what Bastion meant to both sides of this conflict. He could understand the fervor on both sides. But it did not make it any easier for those caught in the crossfire. Even as he ran alongside Drea's squad. He could feel it, the distant flashes of fear, terror and pain above him, just at the edge of his empathetic senses.

No matter who won this fight. The citizens of Bastion would lose. Families would be shattered, livelihoods destroyed. Sons, daughters, fathers and mothers. So many would be dead by the end of this. The only thought that kept bile from retching its way up his throat was the idea that people here would be slightly better under Imperial Rule than Sith. One would not have to worry about the mass execution of civillian traitors.

It was what he told himself to justify his presence in this conflict. Hopefully if he survived this fight, it would let him sleep at night. The nightmares had only recently ceased, he'd rather they not start springing up again.

"Contact!" Drea called out, her yellow saber blurring into action alongside her squad as they charged into the ruins of some subterranean complex. Aaran close behind them. The architecture of the building denoting it as Sith in origin. Its purpose was clear enough to even the most blind of those touched by the Force. Hate swirled around the ruin like a storm. And the fact that Drea and her squad were currently under fire from several Sith Troopers certainly leant some credence to the idea that it was somewhere of strategic importance.

The ritualistic chanting audible from outside gave some indication as to what might be the obective for the Sith here. And the uneasy feeling in his gut due to his proximity to dark energies was enough to let Aaran know that whatever it was that was going on in there. It would probbly be best if he nipped it in the bud before the ritual could be completed.

Launching himself ahead of the of the Imperial Knights, his form a blur as he dipped and dodged through blasterfire. no doubt drawing a confused look from his allies as to why he did not draw his lightsaber. Instead relying on supernatural speed and grace to get in close. If among his friends Ryv was the Sword. Auteme the shield. Then Aaran would act as the tip of the spear for those he wished to protect. Clearing the path for them and facing the greatest danger head on.

And right now that included Drea and her squad. His fist lashing out like a thunderbolt. The augmented strike smashing cleanly through the armor of the commanding officer present. A fraction of a second later, both hands where thrown out to his sides. A rippling wave of kinetic energy surging from the martial artist. Several Sith troopers were flung back. Disrupting their formation enough so that Aaran's own allies could surge into the opening he had made.

"Drea!" He called out, urging the Imperial Squire to follow him as he moved further into the complex itself. Trusting his other allies to deal with the rest of the defenders outside. Feeling somewhat relieved when the Mirialan woman joined him in his continued assault. Together the made their way further into the complex, guided by the Force to where the ritual was being performed.

Whatever it was they were doing. Aaran could not make much sense of it. Sith Sorcery was hardly his area of expertise. All he could note was several acolytes led by a single Sorcerer. The ground around them riddled with strange runes and geometric patterns. He could feel it already, the energies rising to a fever pitch. The ambient emotions already trying to worm their way into his mind. Fear, Rage, Hate. All of them whispering into his ear and begging for him to give in.

It is not like these Sith do not deserve his fury after all? After everyone they have butchered. Every innocent that was struck down. He had to make a conscious effort to not grind his own teeth. Forcing himself to calm down. "Those thoughts are not my own." He reminded himself. Had he considered giving into his anger before? Certainly. He was only human after all. With all the failings that came with such a condition. But what mattered was how he rose above such petty things.

But sadly, so caught up was he in his mastering his own emotions. He did not notice that his companion was struggling with those exact same issues. The problem was that Drea was far more invested in this battle than he was. This was her home, she was fighting for her comrades, her family and way of life. And the Imperial Knights taught discipline, not detachment. And so, with a furious battle cry, the Squire charged. Intent on cutting down the lead Sorcerer. Ignoring her companions sounds of protest as he reached forward in an attempt to stop her from acting recklessly.

For as her saber cleaved the Sorcerer's head clean off. So engrossed he was in his ritual that he was unable to defend himself, the outcome that Aaran was dreading occurred. All that energy. All that power, it had been built up and intended to be released in a certain direction. Either to enact some spell or to lend itself to some greater ritual. But now with the Sorcerer dead, there was no one to direct the energy. So it was released in a rather dramatic and explosive way. A collum of dark fire erupting from the circle, incinerating all within its path. The one slight mercy shown to Drea was that she likely died quickly.

In Aaran's own defense, all he could do was withstand the released dark energy. The air around him shimmering and warping as a protective barrier was conjured from his own will. Forcing himself to remain calm, not dwelling on the fact that a single lapse in concentration would ean death. Not dwelling on the fact that he was only ever strong enough to protect himself and not the brave men and women fighting outside the complex. So surprised they were that they could not mount a proper barrier against the malfunctioning rituals. Burned alive from the released energies.

And when it finally abated, Aaran was left nothing more than ashes as a reminder of his failure.

And once again, he found himself utterly alone.
 


‘Acolyte Iasha Rha.
We regret to inform you that following the Bryn’adûl descent on Jaminere, we have no update on the status or whereabouts of Fulko Rha, Meve Rha, or any of their household. Due to the severity of the attack and the loss of citizen lives in the area we therefore must assume that the aforementioned were killed in action.’


Iasha pinched her brow and screwed her eyes shut before forcing them back open to continue reading the letter one more time. Her lips thinned against her pointed teeth as she tried to keep her face in check and not let it betray her feelings to the world.

‘We, the Imperial Mission, extend our deepest sympathies with the tragic loss of esteemed diplomats and benefactors Fulk’orha and Me’verha. It is our only solace that you have found your home and calling in the glorious service of the Sith. The reports of your efforts on Dantoooine gave your family great pride. Pride which we now carry for them. We pray to the left-handed-god that you find catharsis in the wars to come, and that this tragic event, if nothing else, strengthens your connection to the true nature of the Force.

Our deepest cond-’


Her palm crunched the already ragged piece of flimsiplast into a fist as she slammed her forehead into her thumb and bit the back of her lip. A taste of copper filled her mouth, prompting her to release the bite. The twi’lek wiped her face and folded the flimsi neatly before stuffing it into one of the many small pouches on her belt, then went to join the briefing. Throughout the information dissemination, she paid close attention, but kept a manner of chilled distance to the soldiers and her fellow Sith. She even avoided eye-contact with Alina, who had become a frequent comrade in arms.
While expertly keeping her chilled composure, the red twi’lek could not quench her inquisitive nature towards the company that would join her in this mission. She looked at their kit, their armour and weapons, their mannerisms and their dispositions toward each other. Luna Terrik had clearly taken charge of the situation, an experienced commander based on the clearly put tenets of her assumed leadership and the visible respect those under her command had for her.

A part of Iasha envied her for that.

With a simple, almost sarcastic salute, the twi’lek followed the soldiers to their transportation. In her mind, she kept replaying the contents of the letter. She kept chewing on the fearful apprehension she had felt when she received an envelope on her door, when she finally pulled the red seal open, and the pain she had felt when one of her worst fears was realised.

Fear was a funny thing.

From that fear now came a hundred more, and in response to these worries she felt a dark claw clutching her mind. She wanted to forget her worries, but nothing distracted her. Well, one thing did. One thing did a marvellous job of distracting her. The ramp clanged under Iasha’s foot as she bounded the last few steps into the transport and seized her seat.

There was nothing in the galaxy like a little escapism.
 
E T E R N A L - E M P R E S S
Moderator
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group
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Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Objective: To find everything that was once Adrian’s property and rescue them if they still exist. (Sabotage the NIO)
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: Runi Verin Runi Verin
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Ingrid was already in the downtown, long in front of the TSE units, of course there were some who were inside like her, but it wasn't typical. The palace was her main destination, wanting to get there, in the vicinity of the former Thaumaturgic Tower, where everything had happened before, in case she could follow back the fate of the objects not previously taken out. In the meantime, of course, also wanted to help the work of the TSE, especially the operation of Telis Taharin-Zambrano Telis Taharin-Zambrano with the sabotage. And when it's all over, go home to her sons.

But her primary purpose was to find everything AMCO AMCO had before that was his creation, and it still existed to steal and save them. Could imagine the man would smirk if he knew she was doing exactly what she had always scolded the man for before. That he was constantly endangering himself because of a few books; and now what was Ingrid up to? Wanted to steal and save books and artefacts; to do exactly what Adrian also would probably have done.

As hurried invisibly between the buildings, or just on top of them, surveyed the city and the surrounding area, the escape routes to see what could be the points that the TSE had attacked. These were largely the same as those developed by Ingrid in her own strategy. Booked her and she always loved strategy; last but not least, didn't think that Adrian was dead.

At one part, she had to descend back to street level to continue there. Reached a larger square; although no one could see her, avoided the civilians or soldiers going to the shelters with elegant movements. Ingrid was halfway through the square when saw her; Runi Verin Runi Verin . Ingrid suddenly stopped, she wanted to hate the other woman, to despise her, but could only feel the cold emptiness. She will not kill her out of revenge, but because it is her duty.

Her other task was suddenly not that important, reached into the Force and sent a telepathic message to Telis Taharin-Zambrano Telis Taharin-Zambrano and Joycelyn Zambrano Joycelyn Zambrano .

~ Empress, Darth Aagenti, she's here, I just saw her, Runi Verin is here in Ravelin. I go after her, I can’t let her leave the planet alive after what she did. ~ then only continued for Telis. ~ If I can't make it… Telis, please take care of Tubrok and the children. ~

Immediately changed direction and Runi hurried after her. Still invisible, hiding herself in the Force. As an assassin, knew the rules of tracking perfectly, especially with a Power User. She didn’t look at her, didn’t make the mistake of possibly feeling the other woman that someone was following her. The cat-and-mouse game began. The red-haired woman was determined, only one of them would leave this planet alive.

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It was as if she'd never left the battlefield. The sound of war in the distance wasn't something Alina would ever likely get used to. The calm before the storm. She hated it. She loved it. It was complicated. Her gaze fell to the city of Ravelin, watching the buildings go by as the transport she was in ripped it's way through the air. Hoping to avoid enemy fire. It was like the first time, readying herself for the fight. Only this time it wasn't just alongside her fellow expendable acolytes. There would be no Graug for her to face down. No tombs for her to try and discover the secrets within.

No, this time it was with allies. And it would be a fight against their actual foe.

Her gaze drifted to Iasha as the shuttle shook from incoming fire. At the briefing Alina could already see something was wrong. She'd already gone quiet for some time before, but the human never knew why. And now seeing the frustration up close Alina could tell something had happened to her Twi'lek friend. Something she would have asked about any other day. There was no time in the meeting as they left immediately.

And whatever it was was distracting. Where they were going, they needed their heads. Alina shifted her way over to her fellow acolyte, nudging them with her elbow. "Into the fires once more, huh? No sacrificing yourself this time, got it?" Turned out to be way more somber and serious than Alina wanted it to be, but she smiled none the less. "I don't want to have to dig you out of a hole again."
 

Runi Verin

Two pounds shy of a bomb.


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LOCATION: Ravelin, Bastion
OBJECTIVE: Repel invaders, escape the planet.
GEAR:
Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Phrik Bracers, Terentatek Duster, Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl, Tinfoil Hat
ALLIES: NIO (Tangibly)
ENEMIES: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | TSE

Despite the stalwart discipline Imperials personified, chaos reigned on the streets of Ravelin. Formations of equipment laden troops rushed through narrow duracrete paved alleyways to set up chokepoints and barricades, while non-combatants made last minute dashes for sanctuary as their nerve failed them in the face of the oncoming forces. Defiant, if disjointed war songs mixing with screams, yells and curses of the populace as the crowds scrabbled and converged like hive ants.

Already Runi had been forced to divert several times to avoid getting swept away by it all, ducking and weaving through the worst of the pandemonium. Her short stature helping her in some instances, while her gruff attitude and willingness to shove, curse and on occasion punch her way clear helping her in others. Outright ignoring the accusatory looks and angry yells she left in her wake. Her survivor's instincts were at an all time high. She had seen first had what happened when the Sith attempted to take a planet. Win or lose, in a few hours the body count would be beyond reckoning.

"Fierfek!" She yelled as she fought her way to a clearing in a city square, her teeth baring in a snarl that coincided with her fist pulling back to slug the newest target of her ire in a punch that never came. The motion frozen in time as a sudden chill filtered across the peripheral of her heightened awareness. Her gaze whipping backwards over her shoulder even as she shoved her would-be victim back into the throngs. Whatever it was, it was gone before she could find the source; lost in a sea of worried faces and blank white plastoid.

Her imagination? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. There was a sizeable bounty on her head last she checked, one that had seen her dodge more than a few would be hunters as of late.

Runi clicked her tongue before lowering her shoulder once more, shoving and pushing deeper back into the crowd, resuming her quest for the space port. Imagination or not, she was suddenly keen on putting some distance between herself and the square. The space port was only two more streets over. Attempting to take off during an invasion wasn't exactly the smartest of moves, but it would hardly be the first time the spacer had run that particular gauntlet.

From there, whoever or whatever was, or wasn't, on her tail could eat her space dust.

 

Dimitri Voltura

Guest
D

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InvasionBastion_RavelinStroked.png

ALLIES: Luna Terrik Luna Terrik | UX-0626 UX-0626 | Iasha Rha Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru | Kesran Opadal Kesran Opadal
ENGAGING: Halketh Halketh
OTHER ENEMIES: New Imperial Forces and Allies
GEAR:
Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour
Pack of ~20x Voxyn

How did it come this?

He had seen Empires rise and fall across centuries - have fought in the battles, known both victory and defeat more times than he could count. He had made sacrifices like many others have done. War was nothing new to him. The carnage and despair of it had been part of his life for so long, he had grown accustomed to it.

And yet...

To have seen Korriban fall into the hands of the Jedi had left a foul taste in his mouth and he had returned to the Confederacy both angry and weary. Eenia Vahn Eenia Vahn had, for the most part, made that defeat a little easier to bear. But his weariness had increased nonetheless. He had wanted to retreat into solitude and have nothing further to do with the wars of empires.

But it seemed he could not escape it no matter how hard he tried.

“Once a Dragon, always a Dragon,” had been the words of Darth Anguis, his master almost a millennium ago on the very planet that had fallen to the Jedi not too long ago. And how right he was. It seemed that Dimitri could never manage to hang up his armour for long.

So when the Lord Commander Gerwald Lechner Gerwald Lechner of the Knights Obsidian requested that he personally aided Grand Marshal Luna Terrik Luna Terrik help the newest Sith Empire retake the long disputed world of Bastion, he donned that armour once more.

Of course, it came with a price.

Eenia had almost begged him to take her with him. He had flat out refused, going against every code in the book of both Sith and Jedi. Even though she was his Apprentice, he had grown quite fond of her. The absolute hatred and bloodshed that would reign supreme on the old Imperial Remnant world, was a Darkness that he would not expose her Light to as long as he carried the title of her Master. The argument that ensued before his departure had left him shaken.

He now stood in the secure location just outside the city, reading the newest correspondence from Eenia, who still seemed to be seething about being left behind, while his crates of Voxyn were being loaded into the transports. The more he read, the more his confidence was shaken. For her to compare him to the rift with her sister, meant that he had erred greatly.

It seemed that complete and utter heartache was to be added to the hatred and bloodshed that would reign supreme today.

When the Grand Marshal made her way out of the tent, the Obsidian Lord looked up from the holopad, his dark eyes filled with sorrow as he ended the transmission of the dreaded letter. He could not even access Eenia’s thoughts through their bond, as she was closed off to him.

It was hard paying attention as Luna launched into her pep talk before battle. He did, however, return her nod, taking one last, deep breath before boarding his designated transport. His mind was adrift, distracted. Never before had he gone into battle this way. For the first time in his long life, he had the fear that he would not return. That their argument would be the last time he would ever see her face.

As he stood against a Voxyn crate and the transport lifted off, he tried one last time. Concentrating on their bond harder than ever, he reached across systems to her consciousness, for what it was worth.
<Forgive me, my dear. I bid you farewell, should I not return.> the thought rang through time and space.

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It was incredible how, every time she came to fight the New Imperial Order, she ended up facing a Jedi. She could sense them, the handful who were here; she sniffed their foul odours in the air. Their presence tainted the sanctity of Bastion, once the seat of the Sith, and confirmed every suspicion she ever had about the Jedi: In the end, they lusted for the same power that the Sith held, but they did not dare to be open about their cravings. Instead, they pretended to bashfully accept their charge.

It almost made her retch.

No time had been better for total war, for all the things she hated the most seemed packed in one place. All the rats had come to gawk at the forlorn jewel of the Sith Empire.

The Empress of the Sith had, as she was wont to do, joined the very vanguard of her armies. Among her soldiers, the Varanin legion, she led by example: Not throwing them into a fray into which she was unwilling to enter. Instead, the towering Empress marched with them, clad in her black armour, sithsword in hand. It was why they followed her, why they lay down their lives for her.

Why her word was law.

A voice trickled into her mind, familiar, one of the few she allowed to touch her mind. Joycelyn could sense Ingrid’s hatred where she stood, and with effort she returned a sense of approval. The Empress excelled in protecting herself from mental attacks, but her skill in telepathy suffered as a direct consequence.

She looked down at the manling squirming in her grip.

String him up and let’s move on. We take no prisoners today.

Her segmented gauntlets let go of a tuft of blonde hair while a cable was quickly tossed over a beam. The metal string was unceremoniously wrapped around the offender’s neck and connected to itself. With a quick jerk, the body was hauled into the air. Feet kicked as Joycelyn stepped forward and looked up toward the steps of the fortress.

She saw the statue standing at the peak, where once stood a statue of her father. She didn’t recognise who it was supposed to represent, not at this distance, but she did recognise the feeling of a person near it.

Sar’andor

Darth Vornskr growled to herself, her lips drawing into a smirk. “The fortress is, as presumed, heavily fortified. Clear this sector.” she barked at her commanders as she kept staring up the stairs. "I will go greet the squatters."

Clapping the black visor down over her face, the Sith Empress stepped out into the open. Behind her plate-clad form trailed a cape in cardinal red. Where her feet fell, the very ground smouldered with embers. The jagged eyes-slits of her helmet glared up toward the top of the stairs as she made a swift, 90 degree turn.

Her right hand raised, fingers extending, as she shattered the statue at the statue at the pinnacle with telekinetic force.
 
Rear Admiral of the Fleet of Everlasting Autumn


After Dantooine, he expected this. He helped contribute to the failure of their defeat in orbit. In a way, his daring stunt that costed the lives of good men and women of Autumn Division was being repaid by cosmic balance, with interest. The past weeks leading up to this confrontation had been spent in his room with his constant companions of Jack, Scotch and Absolut. There were missed calls, piled up paperwork left unread.

After so long, he was surprised that he hadn't been stripped of rank and sent away once more. Staring at the holographic display of the arrayed naval forces in orbit, it came to him in a groggy realization that the Order simply could not afford to charge any of their senior officers with incompetence. Right now, an incompetent officer was better than an absent one, and it was just his luck that he had further ties to the organization than mere political loyalty.

He had turned his back during the schism and openly decried many of the officers now serving the Sith. If he fled, or became a turncoat, there would be no mercy for him.

Not that, in the time spent isolating himself, Naier hadn't contemplated the idea of simply leaving for good. To pack his bags, grab Marlene and lie low in the wave of migrants fleeing the war-torn peripheral space.

Between fleeing and fighting however, Naier rather liked the sweet release of death than the countless years of nail-biting anxiety of watching over his shoulders constantly. His XCO, Captain Simone ran the ship in his absence. For as far as he could tell from the corner of his eyes, she had done a good job making the men and women ignore their disheveled commanding officer. "Go through it with me one more time."

Simone sighed and brushed aside a stray lock of golden hair. She pointed towards the tablet in his hands impatiently. "We've been reinforced by NAVHICOM in the past months after Dantooine, replacing losses. I had to sign on your behalf, but we've additional tonnage compared to the last battle-"

"But why?" He interjected, taking the moment to drill into her soul. Simone merely shrugged in a half-hearted reply. "I don't know. Not my position- nor worth my time- trying to understand the Admiralty's wishes."

He blinked. "Yes, well. . ." His words petered off, and in the awkwardness of a poor socialite, Naier turned back to the holodeck. His finger mindlessly trailed the screen of his tablet, keeping his mind occupied as it struggled to turn its gears without the necessary lubrication. He reached inside his coat for his flask, but Simone's ice-cold hands gripped around his wrist. It flapped limply as she thrusted a plastic bottle water in his face.

"Drink."

"If I was sober, I would have had you spaced for that." He growled, even as he accepted the offer and took a big gulp of water. His mind's gears spun with its rhythmic vigor, though he could fear the headache beginning to creep in. Draining the bottle in one go, he scrunched the plastic container and threw it to the floor. A battered looking mouse droid scurried out from nowhere and retrieved the bottle, chirping in a programmed task well executed. As much as he hated the droid, Naier couldn't find the strength nor willpower to raise his foot to abuse the thing. Massaging his forehead, he had to remember that for the past week, he had been abusing himself.

"Do I have to remember their names?"

Simone shrugged. "I didn't." She showed him the list of the new additions to his fleet, and Naier read it without thinking too much. He nearly smiled at some of the names of the ships, pausing once or twice to appreciate a good pun. He was surprised to see the survivors of Dantooine remaining in his division. "I thought they would have requested a reassignment after what they went through."

The female officer gave a soulless smile, handing the tablet back to her commanding officer. "Believe it or not, no other assignment is safe anymore. Doubtless, as the man who pulled them through that hellstorm, they saw their best chance of survival in you."

"Balderdash."

Simone raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard anyone say that unironically."

"Yeah, well you go can go stuff it somewhere else. Who is in command?"

"Well-" She eyed the recently arrived friendly blip on the holodeck. Tapping the IFF signature, Admiral Scourge Harz Scourge Harz 's ID flashed across the screen, before the sprawling list of achievements awarded to him. Naier sniffed and balled his fist.

"That's not a lot."

He pointed at the hostile mass that was amassing on the other end of Bastion's orbit. "That's big. I recognize some of the signatures there too- they were at Dantooine."

He paused.

"Bastards."

His companion only nodded, before pushing off the table and beckoning for him to follow. The commodore grumbled as he walked behind her, dragging his feet in pitiful reluctance. Passing ensigns and lieutenants snapped to attention and did their best not to track his shoddy appearance as he walked past, but he could feel their gaze boring into the back of his skull.

"We're currently stationed in geosynchronous orbit over Bastion, covered by our defense platforms. Ever since we left drydock, we've been running low level combat drills and telemetry projections for ranges up to extreme values."

"Which are. . .?"

"Extreme." She said plainly. Technical answers that were not within her range of responsibility to remember and recite. Naier simply took her answer with a nod and continued to follow her down to the system stations. They passed by non-critical systems, watching as their energy readouts remained stable. "Hansen had enough time to refit the Valediction's power couplings in our generators."

The officer nodded, and then stopped in his tracks. "Which. . .?"

Simone turned around and gave him a quizzical look, as if he was supposed to know himself. "I asked him to explain, and he went on a three minute ramble about the state of engineering graduates in the military academy. Best I can tell sir, we'll be able to transfer power from one station to another easier."

"That means nothing to me."

She shrugged. "I agree, but he was excited about it, so I let him keep it. Plus, he paid for the fittings himself, so who are we to judge? Let the old man keep his toys, I say."

"And I agree." said Naier, agreeing with a very serious and dignified look on his unshaven face.

They stopped at the observation deck, watching the world go by in peace. Relative peace- it was hard to ignore the floating ships in the distance, the assault carriers deploying their scores of dropships to the planetary surface. There was going to be a battle soon, and frankly speaking Naier really wished they didn't have to fight. He wasn't confident that he had been adequately rehydrated. Simone must have thought so too, as another plastic bottle reappeared in front of him. He accepted the drink graciously and drank in silence, treating it like liquid gold this time.

As the minutes went by, and with each sip of water, Naier slowly became more and more coherent. His misplaced thoughts returned to the realm of Imperial duty, reclaiming its throne in his mental fortress- or perhaps dilapidated shack suited his personality better. "Have we made contact with the rest of allied forces?"

Simone shook her head. "I don't make calls without your authority."

He gave her a long, thoughtful look, as a well-ran ship operated independently of their oversight behind them, and had been likely under her care and guidance for the past weeks or months. She challenged her officer back with a stare of her own.

More silent minutes passed by.

Eventually he capped the bottle and pocketed in his slacks. "Comms!" He barked, without breaking eye contact. "Flag all Imperial ships in the system, secure channel, priority Alpha. Let them know Autumn Division is on standby." Simone raised an eyebrow, expecting more from her less-than-usually melodramatic superior.

He broke contact first, and he felt her smirk in his soul. "Tell the Admiral specifically that our wings may be clipped, but we already have reservations in hell for us."




Fleet Roster Composition


Autumn Division - 3rd Fleet
VesselDescriptionStatusCommander
NIV Inexorable Valediction of Summer
- Cuirassier-class Cruiser- Fully Crewed, Active
NIV Silent Contemplation of Spring
- Cuirassier-class Cruiser- Fully Crewed, Active
Captain Williams Arburke, [NPC]
NIV Lack of Subtlety
- Escolta-class Frigate- Fully Crewed, Active
Commander Serena Libertam, [NPC]
NIV One Big Gun
- Escolta-class Frigate- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Kerin Erkhart, [NPC]
NIV The Wild Rodeo
- Escolta-class Frigate- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Geller Janovic, [NPC]
NIV Poor Deliverance
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Ciroix Amende, [NPC]
NIV Ulterior Motives
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Louironna Blithe, [NPC]
NIV Gargantuan Rooster
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Eric Bentham, [NPC]
NIV Anonymous Anarchist
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Rickard Pline, [NPC]
NIV Blue Sky
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Krantel Geisling, [NPC]
NIV Ironic Tragedy
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Allison Vantam, [NPC]
NIV Confidently Nervous
- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette- Fully Crewed, Active
Lt. Commander Otto Bahez, [NPC]



 

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