Dominion Stratego | Dominion of Toprawa | NIO

[Enlil]

Atrocity

​

They dispensed with all formality quickly as the Iron Imperator told them what action would be taken. He quickly adjusted himself in the chair and dismissed any futile notion of convincing Fel to change his mind. Retribution was a fiery word. A concept that relied on base passion, no different from the Sith from whence the New Order had cleaved. Excision of emotion as a precursor to action was necessary for the path forward. When the Sun Guardian's fist hit the table, Enlil's gaze found Onansi and fixed on him. Before he could speak however, Fel made it unnecessary.



His eyes slowly closed, and he listened.



He listened that is, until Rausgeber spoke. His sigh was internal, though his eyes rolled their way to the Grand Admiral as he let the man bleat out all of his thoughts. "It is not enough to burn an entire Imperial world, but you would have us put its people to the torch as well?" he asked. Had their bloc learned nothing from the insanity of Jaeger Harrsk? So quick to brazenly suggest the same levels of depravity, and in this open forum? Neither did it escape Enlil that Rausgeber stood to profit from such action as well, at no thought to the cost of human life. The man, it seemed, had no intention of changing.



It was good, then, that one of them had. "We are in agreement however, that the people of Carlac did favor their erstwhile leader. Ensuring their allegiance to the Imperium should be paramount. The Imperator has already said that disloyalty would be met with death. This measure is more than adequate. More loss of life for frivolous reasons like suspicion do not serve our ends."



And make us no different from the enemy watching, waiting.



The Grand Vizier cared nothing for moral superiority. It was the foolish notion that guided the hands of leaders destined for ruin. What did unnerve him was the willingness of their own to resort to methods no different from the evil they now faced. And Rausgeber further suggested to play puppeteer in line with Mawite methodology? A single finger pried from the fists of the leader of Ketaris and pointed to Carlyle. "Why weaken our considerable supply chain by eliminating an able workforce? The Imperial Military is not served by dropping production to fewer worlds. Our Economy is not served by creating monopolies."



There was a fine line, and the Grand Admiral walked it perilously. "On the matter of relations with the Alliance, the Silvers, et al, I will say this: given the choice between your fingernails and a dulled blade, which do you choose to claw open the throat of an enemy intent on taking your life?" His finger curled slowly back into place. Enlil kept his eyes shut. This was a question that would give anyone pause, when considering the source. "Rather than sawing in futility at the enemy while you asphyxiate and your windpipe is crushed, you cast aside the useless weapon and dig your natural weapons deep. The Alliance has proven themselves weak, the Silver Jedi a comedy act. In the war to come, they are not an asset. Leave them to their devices, and inevitable downfall. Their part in the conflict has been foretold. They will wage war, with or without us. Remaining their allies places the burden on us of continued support in those endeavors."

His gaze now moved to the woman opposite him, on Fel's other side. It lingered there a moment, then fell away. It seemed Fel was a more pragmatic man, then, than Tavlar. It occurred to him in that moment, that not one of them retained the job security they had.



Enlil smiled to himself.

Willan Tal | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Noel Strasza | Julius Haskler | Onansi of Thyrsus | Lucina Centaris | Fiolette Fortan | Arjant Clevenger

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
STARRING | WARLORDS | MOFFS | Rurik Fel | Onansi of Thyrsus | Enlil | Lucina Centaris | Noel Strasza Fiolette Fortan | Willan Tal | Caarlyle Rausgeber

“Carlac?” he scoffed at the mention of that infamous world, “it would be a disgrace and a dishonor to our late Imperator to let it continue to exist after all that’s happened. It is a tragic reminder to what happened to the Order and to Tavlar from the insidious machinations of Halketh and his allies in the Unknown Regions. It must be made mere ashes in the void of space.”

“We can bring industrial opportunities to other Imperial worlds that deserve it, we can even place more investments in the Kol Huro system. They do, after all, specialize in armament manufacturing in all seven planets of their system.” Another system within the Iron Ring which was a major operation of conquering it and eliminating any elements of dissidence. A key system to amplify the war machine of the New Imperial Order.

“I still encourage us to consider the option of deploying unconventional operatives within the Galactic Alliance and raise the general population of those planets to overthrow the Senate and the Jedi, in favor to voluntarily annex with our Empire. Once the Maw has been cleansed, the Alliance will fall to our might.”

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND | 1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
OPERATION CHIMERA COBALT
DECEASED Erskine Barran | Sephi Karneh | Raus Garrat

INVASION ABY
CRESH
​

Then came the shift in command from the Lord General himself. Kolson tensed his jaw at the command before nodding once and patching through the commo once more.

<"We can make that happen, yeah, it'll need to be a bit more time, but we can make it happen, Lord General. Grunge out."> He replied. Change of plans so soon. But it was Barran's call to make and honestly, at a second glance, likely better than the balls brazen operation Vrask wanted to pull in its stead. This one covered far more bases.

<"Alright, Vandal. We're playing bomb squad. Set us down in the nearest clearings. We still black on their sensors?"> He looked through to the cockpit, the pilot motioning a thumbs up back to him to signal he had an affirmative on the two commands and requests.

<"I thought we were jumping right into the shit, Grunge what the hell is this? Isn't this only a wargame anyway?">

<"Oh why don't you go tell Lord General Barran and his claymore no then, Sergeant? Tell him we're too much of a flock o' dandies to plant some bombs in a war game."> Grunge mustered up in response to the green bravo Storm Commando. Weapons Sergeant with a specialty of killing and little else. He'd learn more today at the very least.

<"How far out? Klick and some change? Alright...stop us here let's drop out. Vandal! Up!"> He'd called for equipment check earlier, if there was something they were missing, they were shit out of luck now. The troop bay doors slowly opened and the Storm Commandos snatched the rappel line to funnel out before eventually hitting the ground, securing the area before Grunge motioned them all unto their feet once more, a large bag of explosives strapped across his chest as he motioned out commands.

Aurek on him, Besh hit the northern passageway and Delta sit back for coverage.

<"Nova. You good to take point?"> He asked, speaking closely to the Mirialan as he brought his battle rifle up to the ready. It was time to move and on the double if they could get away with it. He wanted to get to the 'boom' as quickly as they could manage.

 

[Gat Tambor]

X X I I : T H E _ G A L A X Y
DIRECTOR
TRADE FEDERATION
Aerarii Tithe | Aiko Hayata​

---

---

---

30 HOURS​

The wheezing was not an imperfection that Gat had to woefully deal with through the rest of his days. He'd perfected Skakoan atmo suit technology years prior, it was one of the first innovations which put the Technoid Manufactorum on the map to begin with. No- no he did it purposefully. He knew well the slobber brained aliens that occupied the rest of the Galaxy were genuinely clueless to the nature of Skakoans. Some amused by their appearance and others discomforted. Gat always wanted it to lean toward the latter.

The wailing screeches and groans emitted by his vocoder was designed failures of his own personal suit, not only to give him an excuse to continuously use the said adjustment knobs to alter the flow of Mind Spike through his system at any given time without drawing suspicion but as well as to make the other person less at ease, make every encounter more 'urgent' by their eventual need to leave it and distract them as Gat outright offered horrid interest rates, obscene profit margins and other frugal loopholes to his clientele all while they lingered on the horrible notes.

<"Hard to find by design, Miss Hayata. Our fine Chancellor can attest, the more one interacts with politicians, the less one cares to interact with anyone at all."> Tambor remarked. Present company excluded of course. He could only offer praise to Tithe for getting elected without anyone even voting for him.

<"But yes- Atrisia. It certainly is a market I'd dare to say the Trade Federation would have interest with expanding into. If you support Miss Hayata's ambitions here, I trust your eye, Aerarii. So then we know the desired end goal, all that we need to determine is the means. Atrisia is a growing economy and a growing market. The Blackwing outbreak several years ago compounded with the attacks conducted by Imperial insurgents not long after have bred grounds for expansion, certainly. But...the Atrisians, ever stubbornly self sufficient, they would certainly be more sympathetic to a success story of one of their own. Hayata will be the key by which we open the door to Atrisia."> Gat proposes aloud.

<"But...there is hardly a market for combat droids on Atrisia, lest you seek to establish manufacturing there, what is the appeal of the Atrisian market to you, Miss Hayata? If it's purely pride and ego of being the premier corporation to hail from your mother world believe me- I understand. People thought 'Skako' was some form of venereal disease before the rise of the Technoid Manufactorum."> Gat said outright.

 

[Ignatius]

OPERATION - CHIMERA COBALT
501st LEGION - STORMTROOPER CORPS
INQUISITORIOUS - SECOND BROTHER
| Aridius 'TK-1575' |

​

Shoulders that were armored, lowered and relaxed. A moment to breathe, a weight from his chest lifted even slightly. While the task was still there, and he may still think back on that moment, I wanted him to do so. It likely, would be a defining factor of what was to come. The attention of the others in the area had not escaped my watchful, piercing eyes. This trooper needed to know that I was on his side. I was here to aid him in whatever I may. However, just like everyone else here, including myself, were expendable.

My job was to hunt down defectors, Force Users, and train others to do so. More often than not, if an Inquisitor was near, it was because something of clear importance was being done. Ever since Kyber Dark when any of the Inquisitors that were even remotely thought to be Leaning towards the Dark Side of the force, were removed from this existence.

I had taken the lives of some of my own men who wished to side with the Sith who had once allied with us. I had blood upon me that still marked me to this day as someone who would do whatever it was necessary to get not just the job done, but to make sure that the stability of our nation, as an Imperial powerhouse in the galaxy, would remain for many years to come.

"TK, do be careful around Force Users. Even the Imperial Knights, and Inquisitors. Everyone has a motive, and everyone has a reason. Since you had an encounter with one that very well could have... had more devious results, I'll give you a calling card of mine. Should you feel any side effects that you do not understand, contact me."

Reaching within the robes, it was a small chip that could be plugged into any device. Even a HUD system, or ship. Extending it out to him to take.

"Plug and Play as it were."

Handing it to the man, I straightened myself up. Preparing for a salute that I would have to return to the Sargent.

"Return to your post, and complete your training."

​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Post #4
OPERATION: CHIMERA COBALT
THE_WOAD
IMPAF-COMMAND

Tags: Aemilio Valaar Kolson Vrask Knight
Aridius 'TK-1575' Mav Ryburn Sephi Karneh Raus Garrat Ignatius

<"We can make that happen, yeah, it'll need to be a bit more time, but we can make it happen, Lord General. Grunge out.">​

'You, you, an' you wait here. The rest can follow me up an' keep the landing-paddock covered - long-distance scopes, prone, you know the drill.', Lord Erskine grumbled with an air of savviness that cut out all the pleasantries in the spirit of competence, with each highlighted DT group splitting off as the Lord-General rifled off with his orders in fast, urgent spoken tempo. Turning back to the elevator doors as they parted for the men waiting down at the ground floor, Barran would be pleased to note the presence of two DTs already waiting inside, gladdened that heightened security would be just as much a factor on training exercises as it would be in more-seriously combat engagements, and with no exceptions whatsoever as the years passed. The previous Imperator's assassination changed everything, as it seemed that even after surviving countless battles, after all the ebbs and flows of the Third Imperial Civil War, that none could get the New Imperial Order's Grand Assembly firmly set in their sights.
Much has changed since I got out the hospital.... And I must admit, I'm very much enjoying it.

By the time the elevator doors had opened at the rooftop access to the landing paddocks, there was already someone waiting at the bottom of the Corsair ship's stepladder, pacing forth in a compliant manner as Lord Erskine met the approach at a similar pace with exclaimed greetings, calling out,'Good evening, a pleasure to have you with us, but I must admit that time is stacked against us. Introductions will have to wait for now, so where's your Captain?', as the Arkanian stopped in his tracks and wordlessly pointed towards the recently-landed ship behind him. Standing at the open entrance to the ship itself, in gear that appeared very much custom-fitted to the tactical preferences of a Corsair Captain, was no doubt the charismatic commander of the (soon-to-be tested by the Imperials for the first time) new Arkanian additions to the Imperium's ever-expanding military roster; and if Raus Garrat was to prove himself worthy support-material, Lord Erskine knew that IMPMAG wouldn't be expecting any defensive reallocations any time soon, something that would prove vital to King Enlil's efforts going forward.

'Greetings from IMPAF High-Command, Captain.', the Stormchaser began, pausing to shake the Arkanian's hand as the go-between closed the door behind them to lock out the noisy mild air-pressure. Then, as soon as the air settled within the airlock, Lord Erskine continued,'Good job ye mentioned PORTCULLIS, Garrat. I have plans as far as that objective goes, an' that's nae joke by the way.... Hope yer ready for a challenge the-day, man. Testin' yer abilities for a certain Grand-Vizier's forces, so I hope you like it action-packed.', turning down an offer to join the Corsairs for drinks with a simple brow-furrowed wave of his hand as he prepositioned his very short briefing. An ashtray was nowhere in sight, but the cigar had been flicked before the Lord-General had boarded so he felt comfortable enough to smoke on as he framed the wording of his orders, breaking the silence only to say,'We can smoke some o' these the-gither, the three of us, if you acquit yourselves well on this occasion. But first-', and to send the finer mission-details to Garrat's datapad in the process of making his promise.

'All the Special-Forces units allocated to PORTCULLIS are laying traps in all the areas surrounding the,"Spaceport", so you'll be needed to land as support as soon as chit hits the fan. They'll have their means of bringing the opposition off their defensive-lines, so all you'll need to do is wait for the fireworks when you get your boots on the ground; easy enough to start with, but as soon as the opposition runs dry, I'll be needing you to take the Special-Forces units with you to break the enemy assault on THRONE. Maybe then we'll see if you've got legs to clear out the REDOUBT objective, but first - PORTCULLIS then THRONE, then we'll see.... Good luck out there, gentlemen.'

Shaking hands once more, Barran would leave the Corsairs to do what Corsairs do best as he descended the ship's step-ladder, seeing all the Death-troopers who were using the landing-paddocks as sniping perches standing up one by one as Lord Erskine neared the elevator doors. 'Ready to head back to the command-centre, sir?', asked the first of the DTs to rise, stepping behind the Lord-General to stand back-to-back for closer-guarded protection. Turning his head around to catch Erskine's cursory nod in his left-peripheral edge, the communicative Death-trooper would relay movement and formation orders to the others as Barran led the small contingent back towards the command-centre. With doors already opened for them, the Stormchaser smirked with contentment at the fact he wouldn't need to deal with any holdups on the way, given extra visual delights as the Corsairs' ship steadily took off before the doors had time to shut, and extra comfort in the knowledge that the exercise was likely to conclude much sooner if the Arkanians hit the opposition hard enough.

'I knew this training-exercise wouldn't be boring, but if we're lucky - these Corsairs are going to make it even wilder. An' by God, I really hope they do!'

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

Enlil | Rurik Fel | @Arjant Clevanger | Noel Strasza | Julius Haskler | Onansi of Thyrsus

Rausgeber regarded Enlil with a contemptuous, half lidded gaze. All he could bother to muster for the little man. “These are not people we are talking about Grand Vizier, we are talking about those who were allied to a traitor. A traitor, whose conspiracy slipped under the nose of everyone present.” Carlyle shot back, “Even if these people were perhaps genial, genuine on their appraisal and want of a better life, who is to say there is not some deeper plot afoot?" Rausgeber questioned, glaring at Enlil, "That there is not some sleeper element. Some Machiavellian force attempting to subvert the Order and all we stand for here."

"Carlac simply is not an effective workforce. And not ideal for industrial investment." Carlyle reiterated, "It seems, Grand Vizier, close to the entire Assembly wishes to avenge Irveric Tavlar's death with a Base Delta Zero. That much is nigh certain." Carlyle looked briefly around the room to gauge his cohorts reaction, "But say Carlac's remaining population is of earnest intent. COMPNOR will need to vet them for loyalty. We will need to supplement them with immigrants. With trained specialists. Beyond presumably having to construct expansive facilities to house and ensure the safe conduct of these foundries." The Admiral Regent continued, "This is simply speaking, a far more expensive venture. Than either prying the remaining technical assets from Carlac's cold, dead hands, or alternatively even rescuing the populace. If that is even possible."

"I'm surprised in you, Grand Vizier." Rausgeber chided coldly, "A man so willing to cast the Galactic Alliance, the Silver Jedi aside as strategic pawns. A man who has found some testicular fortitude," He offered a wry smile at Enlil, "And yet, seems so fixated on this idea that Carlac can be redeemed." The Admiral Regent rose from his seat, "And it cannot. Those who have survived there, for better or worse are forsaken." Rausgeber declared, "We cannot risk, what, thousands of potential Halketh loyalists now slipping through our Empire, providing and reaping potentially devastating damage to our infrastructure and capacity to further this self-professed Sith Lords, agenda."

"The fact of the situation is this. We sit as a dominant partner in the Bastion Accord. We should use that position to use both Silver Jedi, the Alliance and the Crusade as buffers against the Maw, before killing them ourselves." Rausgeber proclaimed, "The Carlac situation must be resolved in total destruction. We cannot afford to vet thousands of potential malcontents. And our logistics are best served, strengthen current lines of supply."

 

[Aiko Hayata]

HAYATA CORP|KOL HURO|BUSINESS
Tags:// Aerarii Tithe Gat Tambor

​

"It pays to be the only one making money on Atrisia; dominating the homeworld opens the gates to the rest of the core market and leaves me bereft of competition from Atrisia."

Which was ideal, of course; the other Zaibatsu families were frequently the only domestic threat to Hayatas business expansions and enterprises. So removing herself from the other clans and leaving the market dominated by her own clan's products would ensure future dominance on the broader core market. And once that was finished, she'd turn her corporation's forces towards the only other major threat to her ambitions. Provided her dear friend Tithe made sure the Jedi and law enforcement were kept unaware and out of the loop.


"But you could say it is a matter of pride... and unfinished affairs that guide me to deal with home first and foremost," Aiko replied in a serious tone, her gaze shifting to her reflection in the office windowpane. If her dearly departed father still walked the mortal plane, oh how she did wonder what he would think of all this. He had not been strong enough to place the family at the top of the pile, but she was, and she'd see it through if it meant shaking the very same foundations of Atrisian society to its core. Though Aiko supposed her father and his father before him had been correct in one respect, drone warfare was the market of the future and Hayata had invested wisely.

​

 

[Noel Strasza]

B L O O D F E U D S
R E V E N A N T
IMPERIAL SPECTRE
Rurik Fel Onansi of Thyrsus Caarlyle Rausgeber
Willan Tal Enlil Arjant Clevenger Julius Haskler Lucina Centaris

​

Once more did the indiscernible expression of objectivity claim the Spectre's face. It was contained, the whorl of virulent emotions she held, exorcised like demons out of her before any could have a chance to rear their ugly heads and escape. A life of regrets and turmoil had been hers, one measured by its weight in soldiers lost and blood spilled. It was something none of them would understand, nor would she attempt to make them understand; save for the man sitting on her right. A dauntless bastion was he, ever treading against the tide of blood that threatened to swallow him. The Spectre respected him as much as she had respected the one who had occupied the chair before him, even if his temperance was in far shorter supply.

Truthfully, it was better this way.

In silence she remained after her report, offering no opinion on the information she gathered or the suggestion she had made, merely, the Spectre assumed her role as the impartial observer. She was the eyes and ears of their Iron Empire, one of the few who existed solely to serve as such. The vitriolic words of the many outweighed the compassionate chorus of the few, as ever, what she had come to expect of the Assembly, just by her once warlord's incessant ranting about it before. She felt strongly that relocating the assets into the shady turf of Prefsbelt was the worst option, though, with her investigation into their clandestine affairs still in its budding stages, there was little she could raise to attention to protest. So, instead, she remained silent, withholding her hand until the moment was right.

Turning the planet into a slag field was not something she had ever truly wanted. Carlac had become her adopted home, its people were the reason why she fought as hard as she did. It was the drive of the immigrant populus and their undying resolve to endure where others could not that urged her every step across the battlefield once, it dragged her to cover in the trenches, it held her hand as she consoled her dying men. To see the planet reduced to nothing but an inhospitable wasteland was... heart-breaking. But it had to be done, there was no other way. She understood the determination of The Imperator to make an example of the world, it was to demonstrate their might in turn. A deterrent.

A gesture that proved to other would-be insurgents that their lesson had been learned and they would not make the same mistake twice.

Strasza fixed her glowing ire upon Rausgeber, her artificial eyes tracking every slight shift in his posture. She watched him with graven suspect unknown, her mask of indifference lain masterfully across her face. She had known of only one other amongst the Assembly as secretive and equally haughty as the Admiral was- the same man who had orchestrated the devastating blow they were all still trying to recover from. The same as everyone else, she offered him only appraising silence in turn.

She had known men like him on the battlefield.

They never lasted long in the wastes.

The Grand Vizier was right, more so than the others. Carlac would forever remain a world stained and marred by its treacherous warlord, and it would do so at the very cost of the people who had helped build it. The very same people who had helped fundamentally shape what their Empire was and would become. A people of iron, those loyalists who had refused to fight against their brothers and sisters. Those who mourned the late Imperator's death as all of his children did. Those people... robbed of their home just as they had been under Sith tyranny.

Her jaw whirred softly with its idle gesticulation.

Sacrifices had to be made.

So be it.
​

​

 

[Sephi Karneh]

T R U S T
N O V A
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND | 1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
Kolson Vrask DECEASED Erskine Barran
ARMOR PRIMARY MAGCANNON GRENADES MELEE

​

The call to stations was made and the combat engineer heeded it, clamping onto the rappel line and swinging herself from the side of the transport. Once her boots struck the ground she stacked behind those kneeling, sweeping her sightline to cover the rest of the squad's deployment. Until they were all on the ground, she held vigil. To position by command, Nova moved. ​

​

<"Nova. You good to take point?">

<"On it sir,"> she offered a response, punctuated by the nod of her head and the swift arrangement that saw her at the front of the formation. Understanding the urgency, she broke into a jog, holding her stride smooth with elbows tucked in the low rise of her rifle to keep it at the ready. She wasn't sure what to expect, though rarely was she ever, and this operation into the unknown posed some degree of excitement to her more than the others- even if the was only a game.

Playing in clearings was far more ominous than operating within urban environments, though it did rather forcefully clip the excess off her mental checklists as she took point. The likelihood of improvised explosives already lain in their path and other nasty presents left by their opposition was greatly reduced in this setting, though the consideration to be wary of such was so engrained in her mind she swept for them regardless.

A lattice formation would serve the purpose far better if they were aiming to incapacitate as many of their targets in one go as humanly possible. Scattering the charges across a broader area could very well alert their opposition to their scheme off the rip, rendering it mostly ineffective if her counterpart knew what he was doing. A game of cat and mouse, in a sense.

<"Set 'em up high, we'll want the shrapnel spread to be as encompassing as possible,"> she offered her knowledge on the matter, tipping her head upward in punctuation, <"and if we can ensure as much of their path becomes barred in the process, even better.">

Her senors chimed then, alerting her to proximal motion. A hand outstretched backward, palm flashed to the rest of the squad- her rifle held steady forward. <"I've got movement, two hundred feet, Northwest.">​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Post #5
OPERATION: CHIMERA COBALT
THE_WOAD
IMPAF-COMMAND

Tags: Aemilio Valaar Kolson Vrask Knight
Aridius 'TK-1575' Mav Ryburn Sephi Karneh Raus Garrat Ignatius

'Welcome back, sir.'

Nodding appreciatively as he closed the door behind, Lord Erskine would make for his seat as he replied,'Any developments on the horizon yet? Needin' some entertainment, so ah'm are.', curious as to what might have transpired in his brief absence from his place at the simulated-operation's helm, whilst also retaining a well-humoured attitude in the process. The injection of the Woadish accented admission was well-received also, gaining a few chuckles and growled approvals in reply before Captain Frayne stepped away from his own comms-station to enhance the main areas of concern, this gained the interest of Lieutenants Wyll and Gorman as the young Captain was working in a state of hyper-focus once more, turning around in their seats to watch the budding master in action. The units operating within the simulated senate-building were well-rooted and set up well defensively, though IMPAF-Command had no eyes on the simulated Jedi-Temple, so Erskine was hoping there would be enough to go on that he didn't have to relocate the command-centre nearer to that objective, as it would mean endangering the Imperial Armed-Forces' chain of command.

'Nothing new as of yet, you were brief enough not to miss anything truly wild in your absence. The larger Droid/Convict combinations are still about three minutes out from THRONE and REDOUBT respectively, and the units manning the former are already inside and finishing up on their defences.'

'Any word from REDOUBT yet?', Lord Erskine asked, getting to the heart of the problem as quickly as he could, continuing,'If we don't have any intel for it, we might as well make preparations to get closer for observations.', with a wary eye kept on young Howard's reactions, subtly cautioning him as Barran gave the Captain his likely alternative pre-emptively. The other subordinates would lean in a little closer, understandably intrigued by their superiors and the growing likelihood that they'd be on the move soon, and the growing likelihood that the Lord-General was going to get involved personally as a result; this was highly irregular, much like Barran's promotion in a way, but everyone was gladdened that Lord Erskine was still being reserved enough to give Frayne his chance to put the Stormchaser's mind at ease. However, both Captain and Lord-General already knew what the outcome of the former's response would be, understanding already that Frayne had no answer or new intel that would change Barran's mind, though he would be adult enough to go through the motions anyway, an action of which that would surprisingly improve the Lord-General's estimation of his young subordinate.

'None as of yet, sir.... I'll ready-up the DTs, you can send me instead.'

 

[Knight]

THRONE​

Tag: DECEASED Erskine Barran

---

"Movement on the approach, Sergeant." reported one of the platoon members, macrobinoculars lifted to his eyes as he peered through the window of the simulated Senate building. The infantry Sergeant lifted his left arm up and flipped back his sleeve where a timekeeping device clicked away a digital display "Intel is good." the Sergeant put his arm down and drew his blaster carbine off his hip holster and motioned through the lobby's open construction to the levels above where numerous infantrymen gazed down at him "No messing around up there. The enemy is closing in and they won't be happy to see us. If you have a shot take it. Our objective is to hold this facility and repel the attack not destroy them." as he finished his orders the subordinate soldiers hurried to their firing positions while the infantry sergeant looked to his peer in the Kezia heavy personal walker "I'm headed up. Good luck Knight."

The walker was positioned in the middle of the lobby with its weaponry trained on the only major entry way into the plaza "Yeah, just don't get shot I don't know the names of your men." Knight responded in mock annoyance the Sergeant began walking to the turbolift and chuckled "You don't know my name either. You've never asked." it was true and Knight knew it which made the banter sting a bit "What is it then?" Knight asked as the turbolift took the sergeant up to the next level. A response coming through the interior sound system of the walker "Name's Dial, Sergeant Dial."

 

[Raus Garrat]

NEW ETERNITY

POST #2
OPERARION: CHIMERA COBALT
H.E.A.D.S.H.O.T
1ST COMPANY CORSAIRS

Tags: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Knight | Kolson Vrask | Aridius 'TK-1575' | Mav Ryburn | Sephi Karneh

| TARGET OBJECTIVE |

PORTCULLIS

5x IMPERIAL CORSAIRS

EQUIPMENT: SRA MK. II | LS-1 | KXR DSP-61x

//LAND SOFT, KEEP HEADS DOWN//
//THEY WON'T SEE US, BUT WE'LL SEE THEM//
//WAIT FOR THE EXPLOSION//

//THEN WE CLAIM OUR PREY//
​

They landed some distance away, concealing themselves upon rooftops as they took up counter-sniper nests. Raus crouched down next to one of his men, looking out over the spaceport; his vision magnified through his HUD as he kept a close eye on friendly units already converging on their respective areas. It was quite the treat to witness the tactical prowess displayed by the New Imperial Order, how they progressed so efficiently.
Raus still very much considered it an honor to serve among such fine military minds, and if not for them, him nor his "people" would be present on this day, training or no. From the Galidraani, to the late Irveric Tavlar he had heard so much about. Truly a legend that had become an inspiration to all seeking the liberty and justice, and a love for the people they protect.

Sometimes blood must be shed, and others must be hurt to prove a point. It is not wrong to survive, to want to be strong. Raus loved his people, and he would do anything for them to thrive.

Even if it caused fear.

"This gear takes some getting used to, yeah? Carrier is a bit tight on the torso, sucks for breathing, honestly."
"Quit your whining and keep your eyes on the objective."
"Ugh, fine."
"What was that? I'll push you off this building, no qualms about it."
"Rude."
"PAY ATTENTION."
"Yes, sir."

Clearing his throat, Raus' comrade let out a soft sigh, adjusting the optic on his long-rifle. "Got eyes on a uh... prisoner, looks like?"
Shifting his attention, the Captain squinted for a moment before finally picking up the pixelated movements of a target some ways off; sucking his teeth in thought as he reached for his own weapon, steadying himself before bringing the scope up. "Hmm.. looks to be 600 meters out. You want it?"
"Yeah sure, one sec."
Awaiting the shot, Raus' eyes fixated on the lone man seemingly standing guard outside of what appeared to be an alternative entrance zone for maintenance; with only a couple seconds of delay, the man's dome disappeared into a fine mist. "Nice one. Doesn't seem that drew any attention, let's keep watching."
"Roger."

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
THE CORE PROBLEM
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Enlil | Willan Tal | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Noel Strasza | Julius Haskler | Onansi of Thyrsus | Lucina Centaris | Fiolette Fortan | Arjant Clevenger

EMPIRE
​

Alas came the conflicting sentiment between them coming to brew to the surface. Carlac was a horrid stain of which was Rurik's top priority to scrub clean of the Empire they'd all worked to build. A world which need be cured of its sickness. The order had been given, to purge Carlac. The Seventh Fleet was well underway on this task. The same Naval element which deployed the Imperator to the field of battle, so too did they implement his grand, posthumonous vengeance unto the world. But even so- it was a task incomplete. They could punish the world endlessly until its fragmented shards and remnants swirled the stars as Csilla did all the while, Caelitus, Solipsis and the rest of their parasitic covens roamed the stars freely. This was no true vengeance- Tavlar would hardly be content in this. It would be the equivilent of torching Panatha while the Sith Empire was still well on the heels of the New Order. Or even better, the equivilent of striking at Bastion as the New Imperial Order drove deep toward Kaas. Fruitless endeavors across the board.

"Carlac will be purged. The lifeless scourge roaming its surface will be cleansed. As for its people..." He looked the way of the native Carlaci in the room herself, Noel Strasza .

"You have done your task in isolating the properties of the Maw that serve most greatly to threaten our Empire to the upmost proficiency. I command you to act again. You will travel to Wistril and begin to assist the COMPNOR vetting process of the refugees of Carlac, where they will then be returned home to repair and utilize the manufacturing facilities left on that world. You are my hand and my instrument, Lord Executor." Rurik says to the cyborg before eventually addressing the rest of High Command.

"So too are you all. I will not see an ounce of potential go wasted within this Empire. Not in the days that await us. I will not see any shred of division amongst any of you. The coming trials will be the most demanding any of us face and I demand nothing short of an iron will and devotion to our Empire. Anything short of essential commerce will not flow from these states awaiting failure outside of our Empire. We will strengthen our bulwark for the war to come. And it will come to us. Even with the buffer states we have in the Alliance and Concord- states which we can not bleed more for in these coming days for it is only a matter of time before Imperial worlds fall under threat. They had a bound of confidence in their ability to strike at our heart with the death of Tavlar. When the ravenous beasts see the ailing king weakening in his stride, they will test his strength...until he strikes back with a ferocity never once seen before. They will attack again - and they will reap the whirlwind. We will chase them to their forsaken wastes and we will cleanse them in the fires of retribution." Rurik states, his voice still tinged with the ethereal strain of his perpetual wounds.

 

[Noel Strasza]

B A B Y L O N
S T R A S Z A
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
Rurik Fel Onansi of Thyrsus Caarlyle Rausgeber
Willan Tal Enlil Arjant Clevenger Julius Haskler Lucina Centaris

​

"Carlac will be purged. The lifeless scourge roaming its surface will be cleansed. As for its people..." He looked the way of the native Carlaci in the room herself, Noel Strasza .

The cyborg turned her head at his words, meeting the piercing ice of his gaze with the screaming red of her own.​

"You have done your task in isolating the properties of the Maw that serve most greatly to threaten our Empire to the upmost proficiency. I command you to act again. You will travel to Wistril and begin to assist the COMPNOR vetting process of the refugees of Carlac, where they will then be returned home to repair and utilize the manufacturing facilities left on that world."

The commendation rolled right off her back, all but disregarded for the sake of the order given immediately in its wake. She cared little for praise; only results. Half artificial lips parted to speak her verbal affirmation, but she cut herself off before any noise crossed her tongue. He wasn't finished yet:​

"You are my hand and my instrument, Lord Executor."

The steady spiral of her mock irises stuttered with the issuance of her rather sudden promotion, and the slow cascade of recognition that washed over her. Lord Executor? Her? It was much to absorb and even more to process, despite the functional augments that kept her head on straight, the cyborg found herself surprised. Yet discipline reigned supreme despite it, engrained bearing far overpowering the very human reflex to question his choice. Her expression etched itself into solidified stone, her resolve made manifest across the features her face still held. "By your orders, Sovereign Imperator," the woman responded, finally allowing her head to turn from the metallic shell of the man beside her unto the rest of the gathered assembly.

The grunt that still kicked rocks in her gut told her to scramble to action, to see to the issued orders immediately. She paused briefly in her thoughts to allow herself a moment to collect the realization in full. She had climbed from a lowly private patrolling the streets of Carlac to a trench jockey, to a special operator. She had served The Order across its branching fields, freely giving her strength to bolster the outstretched arms it extended into the Darkness to strike. From special operator to Spectre, she had been chosen. And chosen again, this time for a role she had never imagined herself serving in. The boots she had to fill were tremendous. For a moment, the cyborg wondered if Fel felt the same about stepping into Tavlar's position.

Her metal digits flexed flat against the table and she rose, at last, intent to see to her orders through.

With the Imperator's spiel finalized in his punctuated suffering, the Lord Executor pressed through the doors shielding them from the rest of the fortress- her silenced steps carrying her back to the warpath she was keen to return to. A whole new world of resources had just been opened to her, one she would exercise in full.​

​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

ACQUISITION: PART III // KOL HURO

Aiko Hayata | Gat Tambor​

---

---

That Aiko was driven by pride was interesting to know. Tithe didn’t care much for motivations - whatever brought home the credits. But those chasing ideals other than pure greed could be open to unnecessary risk-taking or bouts of passion, leading to a bad deal. Of course, the Atrisian had demonstrated none of these shortcomings, but it always paid to know what your business partners ultimately pursued, but it was something to be aware of.

“The droids will raise the eminence of Hayata on your world,” Tithe observed. The combat, reconnaissance and human-replicator droids he’d seen were of exquisite design and premium quality. Anyone could slap a blaster on a repulsorlift and call it a droid. The Hayata Corporation knew the power of sleek design and iconic imagery. “Brand mystique and exclusivity will, I suspect, play well on Atrisia.”

The Chancellor looked out to the rebuilt factories of Kol Huro. The seven industrial worlds, now under the control of the Trade Federation, could be configured to produce whatever the conglomerate desired. Tithe had put aside significant landholdings for his own Liquidity Textiles, but even that was a mere fragment of the capability the star system would still have. Such was the projected traffic in the area delivering raw materials and exporting goods that there was talk to commissioning a new hyperlane exclusively for the Trade Federation.

“Now, once the Kol Huro project is complete, Madame Hayata’s possibilities - and indeed all of ours - will be innumerable,” he added. Droids, munitions, consumer goods, cybernetics - whatever commanded the highest margins were within their grasp. “Come, I want to show you the central control room, the nerve centre, as it were,” he explained to his colleagues as he started toward the nearby turbo lift. “Yes, I do believe you’ll be quite impressed …”

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

OPERATION CHIMERA COBALT
OBJECTIVE I | THRONE
OPPOSING | TRAINING SIMULATIONS
PINGS | Knight | DECEASED Erskine Barran

​

CRESH...
— 869 ABY, Cresh, Toprawa.

Double-Five got out of his dropship and jumped on the ground, looking at his Sergeant and the men from his squad. Since the Great Battle of Coruscant, no one had come from NIO’s or Anaxsi academies to replenish the workforce… but here was a Second-Class commando registered as AC-074.

“First day of work?” Fi asked.

The newbie nodded while verifying his helmet’s gasket. He grinded his teeth but quickly gave up the fight against it to grab his weapon -- a DM&S-416.

“Don’t worry about it.” the older commando reassured him “It doesn’t work very well with the beard. You should shave it, it’ll be more convenient for ya.”
“Thanks.”

‘55 nodded silently, getting close to his Sergeant to receive the orders from him.

“So guys, let’s start with a little explanation. We’re on Toprawa and we aren’t not here to string beads. So can someone tell me why the stang are we here?”

A commando raised his hand.

“Yeah ‘62?” the Sergeant asked, a bit anxious about the answer.
“No Sarge, it’s not about that. Can ya tell me where the restrooms are? I've been waiting for two hours now!”

Generalized laughter in the squad.

“We’ll see that later, Six-Two. Seriously, ya have no idea of why we’re here? Oski, I got it, but you'll have to read the brief next time! So, we’re on Toprawa to train ourselves, are we? For the two newbies in the squad, I let the others explain to ya how we’re going to proceed. We’ve been missioned by the Captain and we’ll be in the front column of the ranks with another squad. On the fields, ya must follow Lord-General Baran’s orders, oski?”

The commandos nodded silently, waiting for new orders.

“Don’t just stand there like santons! Let’s move, commandos!” and the squad deployed itself around the basecamp to prepare the simulation.

Kelga’an got a look at his HUD’s chrono. The Banshees and the Stormies were repelling an assault on the false Senate alongside the walkers pilot for a couple of hours. The soldiers were surrounded on all sides, awaiting for back-up. The Captain wanted his men to maintain the pressure on the frontline until the SF were coming on them.

“Cap! The Guardian Squad’s coming back!” Kieph’err’s Lieutenant exclaimed.
“Really?” the Captain asked. “Gimme their Sergeant, Lieutenant.”
“Here he is, boss.”

The Sergeant cleared his throat quickly before answering the Captain.

“Over here, sir.” he said while standing to attention.
“Rest, Sergeant, we don’t have much time for that. Tell me what ya’ve found, precisely.”
“Oski, Cap.” he nodded. “The enemies are receivin’ back-up, almost one entire battalion. But no news from the Spec Forces.”
“Stang, it’s funny how we can get ourselves in the mess sometimes.” Kieph’err’s Lieutenant said.
“Ya’re right. Ya can dispose, Sergeant. Stay in alarm. Lieutenant, have ya an idea?”
“We have to keep this position, there isn’t another choice for us, sir. Maybe the Siefox will come in two minutes, maybe in three days. But we’ve orders, and we’ve to obey them. Ya agree?”

Kelga’an took ten seconds to evaluate the situation.

“Oski, Lieutenant, oski. We’re going like that. Prepare your men to replace Veersov Platoon on the main front. And do not forget ONE thing: the THRONE shall not be taken.”
“Sir, yes sir.” and the officer went to the frontline.

<Here is Captain Nukth Kelga’an, from the 3rd Parachute Commando Company, for NIO’s THRONE command. We’re maintaining pressure on the frontline number one-seven. Awaiting for Sierra-Foxtrot back-up. One death. Two wounded. Banshee Leader, over.>
​

 

[Alric Árheim]

C R E S H

OBJECTIVE I | OPERATION CHIMERA COBALT​

The formation of steel and iron marched forward through the sea of glass and concrete of City Cresh. They stood ten men wide and five rows deep, spread out enough to keep from a single detonator or any explosive from decimating the whole. They kept their pace down the streets of the city. This was to be a “trial by fire” for the men-at-arms of the baronial forces, to see if they had what it took to survive modern conflict with their severely underdeveloped native tech, along with a general unwillingness to adopt directly from New Imperial stores. Billions of years out of date, they walked, some for the first time, in a city that once housed millions. Flames roared out of the tops of skyscrapers like the breath of angry drakes, and the crunching of glass under their steel and leather boots rebounded all around them. Tunics of purple and gold caught in the fluttering wind kicked up by low flying gunships and whipping breezes coming around city corners. The street appeared to be empty as they approached in the direction to the Senate building. A few blocks off, as Alric was told. Blocks, however, in his life were never on such a scale, nor with such a concern for heights.

Zat-zat-zat, fast as lightning, bolts began to explode the ground in front of the feudal levy. Red hot and aiming to kill, it ripped through a handful of troops and sent them to the ground.

Despite the hellfire, the next line filled their place nearly instantaneously

“Skeldwallaz!” Alric shouted, standing at the front of the group as he brought his durasteel tower shield in front of himself, the metal instantly starting to ping and sing with the plucking of repeating blaster rounds. The men-at-arms joined their baron quickly, planting their boots down fast. The row behind the first raised their shields at an angle, and the rows behind them pointed them directly up.

“Wigid!”

Step after step, they began to advance in the direction of the building where the gunnery crew were set up at.

 

[Mav Ryburn]

CRESH
Operation: COBALT CHIMERA
New Imperial Stormtrooper Academy, 6th Training Group
Objective: Halt the enemy's forward advance on THRONE​

What.... in the kriffing hell. As if this day could get anymore surreal.

When war had broken out in the heart of Coruscant, Mav had been outraged. Just weeks from his release from the Stormtrooper Academy, fire and blood write history in the Jewel of the Core? What horrid timing! Of course, it had largely been due to Coruscant that the 6th Group's deployment had been accelerated. But so many nights lying in his bunk, he'd held his arm up in the air, aimed at an imaginary enemy, and squeezed a trigger that wasn't there. He'd wondered; could he have made a difference at Coruscant?

And now the NIO was providing him a chance to answer that very question.

In a facsimile of the very battle he'd once dreamed of, Mav crouched around the corner of a tenant complex. His service rifle steamed in his hands, carelessly overheated in a tense moment. Breathing heavy, he peered out from his cover to ensure he wasn't seeing things. The enemy had received nearly a full battalion's worth of reinforcements. And the 6th Training Group?

They got what looked like 50 men in steel plate with swords.

3 times now Mav had attempted to reach their CO on comms. 3 times, silence. It was only now, as he watched their entire frontline get wiped out by a convict with a heavy blaster, that he came to a horrifying revelation. Their helmets were steel and padding. That was it. No integrated comms. No HUD. They didn't fire back because they carried no blasters. Those swords on their hips weren't even vibroblades. The commands they carried out with practiced discipline, were being shouted to them over blaster fire and the roar of dropships ovehead.

Those mad, glorious bastards were fighting analog. Mav could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was inspirational, oddly beautiful in a way.

It was also kriffing stupid. Breaking cover, the young corporal ran to sweep forward along the flank of the shield wall. His service rifle was joined by a second, then a fourth and a tenth, as his squad jumped out to light up the heavy gunner's nest in a blaze of red fire. Pulling his trigger as fast as he could while sprinting, he shouted into the THRONE main comms channel. His voice was was scratchy and hoarse; this training battle had been a long day of yelling. "Forward Guard to THRONE defensive command, we've got a friendly native infantry platoon marching down the middle of the street into enemy fire. 6th Training Group, moving to assist."

From cover they sprang, green rookies in nearly clean armor. Heavy blasters purred away, their young courage born from their success at Dathomir, and the fact that they weren't among those troopers who'd died in those red woods. And they wouldn't die here. They believed that. They were special forces. They were elite. They were stormtroopers.

---

Alric Árheim What were you thinking?
Nukth Kelga'an DECEASED Erskine Barran Knight Raus Garrat No promises they don't all die valiantly. They've got kriffing swords. THAT'S IT.