Populate The Fire Still Burns | SO Populate of Empty Hex

[The King in Red]

Malgus
902 ABY

Hoth, renamed to Malgus by the Sepulchral, had long stood as a backwater until the Sith Order brought to it industry and purpose. Archeological sites dug deep and greedily for ancient technologies, ranging from long forgotten about Republic Prototype Cruisers, to the Rakatan remnants even deeper within the world’s ever shifting ice mantle. Frozen for eternity, there lay within Hoth untold secrets.​

​

Yet this was not the entire focus of the world - mineral deposits carved from the ice by great siege lasers made the world rich with mining wealth. Others hoped to create climate change, so that the world might be more livable - but while they have raised the global temperature average by a Centigrade, it has only increased the velocity and danger of their ice storms. Entire factories are coated with blast shields and autonomous services to maintain operations even in week long storms.​

​

One such complex, Arturius-023, had gone dark. A storm had begun to ravage it three weeks prior, and initial concerns about their failure to report in was written off as the result of ice burying their communications array. Satellite images did not corroborate this hypothesis, however, and thus a rescue team was sent in to make contact.​

​

Neither the first, nor the much larger second, recovery teams reported back any findings. None returned to their ships, and the storm has continued to rage - if not amplifying in the weeks since it began. The facility is considered high value due to its direct contributions to the maintenance of the Mors Mon. Within its walls, a metal of the Emperor’s own design is created through industrial line after industrial line.​

​

Jin’jsina, the Dark Steel.​

​

It was a variant of alchemized phrik, but the process in which it was made was a closely guarded secret by the Emperor and his lackeys. However, discretion has lost to the needs of bringing the facility back online, leading to the emergency deployment of Sith teams to secure the facility and bring it back into operation. You are among these teams.​

​

The storm yet rages, its long winded howls making all rides to the facility turbulent and uncomfortable. Only the most assured pilots were allowed to control the crafts, but the unnatural winds of it all gave some pause. Volunteer units from the First Legion have been deployed alongside you, and they will help you secure the facility.​

​

Yet, you are deployed with a warning. While the Empire focuses on trade ports and rebuilding worlds destroyed, ancient evils have awoken. Agents of the Sepulchral have been deployed with you as a contingency, should certain ‘Heralds’ be present…​

Objective 1:​

Find out what happened.​

​

You are a part of the first team to depart from the SIN I ‘Black Khan’. Its orbital guns have been pointed to the facility in the case of absolute failure, and your team has been given the authorization to vaporize the facility given it is unrecoverable for any reason. Along with you are a dozen of the finest men and women the First Legion have to offer, seated alongside you in the Adonis transport.​

​

You have only one mission - find out what happened to the facility. You will be deployed to the security port on the north side of the facility, carefully thawed by ionization batteries from orbit, but your window of opportunity will be slim. The storm yet rages, and ice has begun to creep back over the hanger blast doors. You’re in for a rough landing.​

​

Stay in contact with the ‘Black Khan’ command network, and solve the mystery that plagues the world.​

​

Objective 2:​

Restart the Forge.​

​

A second team is to be deployed on the southeast teamster port. You are shrouded from the wind, but do not get ahead of yourself. The cold is reaching -60C, and it will only continue to drop. Orbital reports show that the doors for the teamster port are jammed, and thus the hanger is no doubt covered in snow and litter. The only problem?​

​

Orbital recon had shown the door closed only 24 hours ago.​

​

You will need to enter the port alongside the First Legion volunteers, purge the tracks and lines of ice, then get the door closed before you freeze to death. Once you have secured your landing point, you must figure out why the door opened - and who could be left to do so. After which, you must begin the process of reigniting the forge.​

​

It is run off geological vents beneath the surface of the planet, bringing that heat from the core up to not only power the facility and its forges, but heat the facility as well. The cold is biting and deep, and you will only have a limited amount of time before both teams are frozen within that tomb. Bring Heat Cores 3-6 online, as they will be the closest to your initial location, then hook up factory communications with network meshed factories across the planet.​

​

They will begin the process of bringing the facility back online, but you will need to manually start the various mechanisms necessary for this to be done. Droids locked in maintenance chambers, Sithspawn Smiths locked in stasis, and something much darker yet to be seen.​

​

Objective 3:​

Survive.​

​

There was a third objective when the ships set out from the ‘Black Khan’, but only two teams made it. The third was tasked with the immediate removal of pending goods bound for the desperate supply lines of the Empire in its war with the Alliance. The only problem?​

​

The storms never allowed your ships to land in the cargo harbor. Unexpected turbulence and a quickly worsening storm destroyed any visibility your ships had through their sensors or guidance systems - causing you and two other Adonis transports to crash into an ice wall 2 kilometers from the facility.​

​

The air temperature is -60C, but the windchill is driving that real feel down even deeper, and it is doing so quickly. You are in luck, the SOS signal was sent out only moments before you crashed and the backup power has lasted long enough to relay your position even through the storm. Rescue is being deployed, but it is hard to say if they will make it in time given the ferocity of the winds.​

​

Your ships are scattered, one in the cliff face and two around its base. A cave network has appeared on localed recon droids deployed soon after the crash, but there is no idea what may live within those walls, or what did.​

​

You must survive until the storm passes and rescue comes, or you will forever be stuck in the cold confines of this snowy tomb.​

 

[Lord Nyeklas]

LOCATION: Malgus
OBJECTIVE: 1
ATTIRE: Attire Here
THEME: MUSIC HERE

The wind was blowing hard causing snow to almost blinding on this wretched desolate world once known as Hoth. The mission was simple, investigation, but why did it seem not so easy. We were being sent to investigate a complex with no communication and figure out what has happened. Nyeklas sitting quietly in his seat aboard his shuttle, His black robes draped over him, his hood up hiding his masked face only to show what appeared to be a black void where a face ought to be. He begins channeling the darkside prepping him for what's to come when he lands. He Knows this world, it's cold, rigid, not an enjoyable place. He hears the pilot having communications with command over the landing point, he can hear the wind rustling against the shuttle as it flies down to the landing area. Nyeklas looks up to the Sith Troopers that sit across from him, a smile across Nyeklas's face behind the mask. Nyeklas knew these men knew nothing of what to expect and would only hope they are ready for the cold they are about to face.

Nyeklas feels the shuttle coming down for a landing and stands up letting his robes flow to the floor giving the troops an example of his massive height. Once the shuttle touches down the troops open the door and rush into the snowfall to secure the area. Before stepping out, Nyeklas examines the weather, difficult to see, but not impossible. He channels the darkside to keep him warm as he leaps out of the shuttle and his boots make a soft sound as they clamp down into the snow. Nyeklas looks around to see if anyone else has landed yet, Unable to see a far distance is unaware if anyone has yet. He heads to a spot where troops begin setting up base camp and awaits the arrival for others. He doesn't like taking charge and nor desires to, but when asked to aid on the investigation, he agreed he would, besides his abilities may actually help the mission, unaware if they would or not is to be seen, but he is doing what he agreed to, coming to this horrid cold planet to help discover the reason a complex for the sith went dark.

 

[Ukvax the Gilded]

Ukvax the Gilded plus anybody wanting to do the funny Objective II.

Hoth, Objective II | Restart the Forge.​

Hoth had been a surprising venture that the Archduke knew little about - nor did he know of the prior events ongoing. What he did know, however, was that its survival proved key for the survival of not only the Sith Order, but Stalgasin Hive, who proved necessary for his own prosperous rule... And in a way, he admired the Sith Order. He respected them - they had given him a home when few other polities dared to even consider Geonosis. It seemed only fitting, perhaps, that the Geonosians of Stalgasin Hive were indebted to Darth Empyrean and his forces. The Emperor gave them a honest dealing, far more than the Sidious of yore. So thus did the Geonosian rapid-response unit...

Well, realistically, it was just a handful of Geonosian engineers, both system software technicians and that of hard mechanical engineers and repair-artisans, alongside Ukvax, who deployed to Hoth immediately and imminently. The Geonosians weren't used to the cold, and so thus was Ukvax suited in snowy garments that were proven pragmatically practical in the face of adversity. He knew they needed to get to work, and quickly - the hangar doors were ajar, open, and the frozen ice, the biting snow, in conjunction with the wind would kill them all. He would buy time for the Sith to do what they do best - he, in turn, and his engineers, would give them that opportunity. And so thus as the Southeast Teamster Port was reached, the Geonosian Archduke's cane was adopted, as non-functional wings saw them covered in thermal sheaths.

[GEONOSIAN]: "Ackuhae-taeyah, wrirrrk-kaek-cliaek'hey-haeh-eh. Norrrrrrrigek!"

There was no protocol droid unit - he chose to wear a translator collar for this, though for now it wasn't online. He didn't need to state what he was doing anyway to the distracted (he assumed as such, anyway) Sith - the Geonosians, as well as Ukvax even himself, were working to remove ice and snow, as well as trying to find a way to begin getitng the door closed. The Geonosian Archduke was hard at work - he wasn't physically unfit. Damaged, yes, in his knee and wings, but his hands remained good, as the Archduke proved able-bodied as any drone.

But for now they worked, and for now, he was determined to ensure this was done as swiftly and as quickly as possible.

It would take time, though, and the snow as well as ice needed to be cleansed first while a few of his engineers worked on figuring out the door mechanisms and such, it was not a quick process. But for now, Ukvax kept at it - there was no other choice but to do so. No turning back now - he owed the Sith a debt anyway, and he would repay that debt no matter what.

(1x Ukvax the Gilded, 10x Geonosian engineers (5x software, 5x hardware)...)

 

[Frankie]

BYOO: Hoth Blooded
With: Allyson Locke
Referencing: Some Like It Hoth

The Academy of Bogan was as dark and cold as the Ren who once occupied its halls. The wind howled like a wounded animal, dragging its claws across the icy plains and sending a fine spray of snow whipping through the craggy ridges and skeletal remains of what had once been the Academy of Bogan. The snow was relentless, piling thick across the shattered tiles and fractured walkways, burying the last remnants of Ren ambition beneath its cold, uncaring weight.

Frankie adjusted the insulated collar of her snow-adapted stealth clock, its white-on-white pattern rippling slightly as the wind tested its durability. Her breath, even beanth the thermal scarf came out in visible puffs, fogging the visor of her helm for a heartbeat before the defroster kicked in. Beside her, Allyson Locke, ever the reluctant companion.

The stoic Commonwealth agent remained focused on her objective as they stepped into the dreary academy halls. Her eyes, sharp and unreadable as ever, scanned the area. What had been left of the Academy had not aged well in the nearly fifty years since the Galactic Alliance had destroyed it. The stonework-blackened and half-submerged in snowdrift was cracked in long, diagonal seams. Walls had collapsed inward like dying beasts with twisted rebar and durasteel supports frozen mid-collapse. Nature had claimed what war had left unfinished. "How fitting." Frankie murmured finally, voice low but clear through the ambient static of the wind. "This place was meant to be a sanctuary for Dark Side initiates, an inversion of the Jedi's precious temples." A beat. "Now it's a tomb."

Frankie found herself walking through what had been the Academy's central courtyard. Flanked by shattered spires and broken statues. Some of the statues still bore the scorches of blaster fire, or the jagged rents left behind by lightsabers. "We'll scan this entire place, I want everything. Data drives, holocrons, weapon caches, encryption cores, whatever wasn't wiped during the retreat. The Commonwealth wants nothing from the First Order left to scavengers or Sith." The Commonwealth had come out here before, hell, her aunt Ariel had been out there destroying caches decades ago.

Still.

"Besides, we're not just here to clean up," Frankie began as she approached what had been a lecture hall. Her boots crunched against a layer of cracked permafrost, her eyes narrowing beneath her visor. "We're here to plant something new."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The wind whipped violently over the snow-dusted plains, whirling into wild dervishes that sped across the empty tundra like a spun top before fizzling out impotently. Few things on Malgus, known as Hoth on galactic atlases beyond the swirling margins of the Blackwall, could withstand the inexorable weight of the planet's inhospitable environment. Man-made structures, without dedicated maintenance, are quickly swallowed by snow and ice until nothing of their existence remains.

So had it been with the First Order's meager facilities dotting the planet's northern hemisphere. Fifty, almost sixty years of abandonment and neglect had buried whatever remained beneath thick layers of ice entombed further by relentless snowfall. It could only take a particularly discerning eye to spot the subtle depressions in the snow to find where these lost buildings once stood stark against the endless alabaster. Fortunately, thanks to the geopositioning coordinates supplied by Madelyn Lowe , they had little difficulty in locating the facility they coveted.

It was entirely buried, virtually indistinguishable from the snowy landscape that had enveloped it. Ten kilometers to the north was a derelict First Order naval yard, its drydocks still visible as deep impressions in the otherwise uniform snowdrifts. There was little to find there other than aged equipment, but a bevy of landing craft nonetheless touched down near the drydocks. The rest continued on to their main prize, a facility buried what had once been the basin of a frozen river.

Heat from the hydrothermal generators had once kept the icy waterfall partially melted, allowing the facility to power itself separate from the naval yard grid. But in the fall of the First Order, those generators had been intentionally destroyed and the base swallowed by frigid waters that quickly froze over. A dark shape swept over the ruined facility, snow blasted away from meter-thick ice as a shuttle slowly came to rest upon the surface of the frozen lake. Others followed suit, each positioning themselves at equal distance from one another as to not overload the ice.

Emerging into the subzero winds was Darth Carnifex, a thick woolen cloak set about His shoulders. Soldiers in thermal regulating gear also disembarked, dozens of them alongside equally provisioned technicians. The Dark Lord paused and pivoted to half-glance at the other dark figure descending the boarding ramp.

"It's here, I can sense it."

He then looked to the soldiers.

"Make your surveys, and then prepare to cut through the ice. Work swiftly."

Darth Prazutis ​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Darth Prazutis' presence lingered like an unseen force, undeniable in its weight. The Dyarchy was not just a political bond between two Sith Lords; it was a living connection, woven in shadows and bound by shared purpose. In this moment, as Carnifex moved forward with the task at hand, it was clear that their bond went beyond mere authority. It was a unity of purpose, of thought, and of shared will, a deep and intimate understanding that resonated with the very fabric of the Kainate. The stillness of the icy wasteland, broken only by the wind's howl and the steady footfalls of the swarm of soldiers descending from the warm vessel behind them, held no comparison to the immeasurable strength between them.

Every decision they made was done in perfect unison, their thoughts flowing seamlessly through the connection only they shared, especially here its presence was magnified, multiplied. Each action was deliberate, as if they spoke with a single voice across the distance between them. They were not two Sith; they were like a singular entity, a force unyielding in its pursuit of power. Darth Prazutis knew Carnifex's mind as he knew his own, the weight of his every decision felt in the deep, resonating pulse of their shared connection. Even as they stood apart, there was an unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment of the deep and inseparable bond between them. "We know what needs to be done." Prazutis murmured, his voice carried by the wind, even as the shadows of their past deeds swirled around them. "We move forward, together. The Kainate's dominion expands with every step we take. There will be no stone left unturned, no secret unclaimed The secrets of the past will be ours to claim."

The giants gaze shifted briefly to the figure of Carnifex, knowing that his nephew would feel the weight of those words. Their power was inexorable, their bond unstoppable. This was not just a hunt for secrets, it was the shaping of the future. "Prepare the way. Do what is necessary Tear it all apart." He ordered, turning toward the soldiers as he spoke, their task clear in his mind. No barrier would obstruct their duties, no abject concerns would stop them, and any obstacle would be swiftly destroyed. Every step they took toward the lost, forgotten facility, the Kainate's hold on the galaxy grew, and they, the Dyarchy, were the ones who commanded its unyielding force. The soldiers poured in great numbers hauling out hovering survey droids, machines that hammered towering spikes into the earth. These technological devices sent waves through the surface of the worlds crust, scanning through the surface of the frozen surface, a frozen landscape that entirely consumed the facility beneath its touch. It was something that required finesse, and delicate precision.

The wind howled around him, yet it barely touched him, his Qâzjiin'vraal armor an unyielding fortress against the elements. The fabric of his being, wrapped in layers of Sith alchemy and war forged metal, melded with the cold, as if he were part of this forsaken place. The warblade on his side pulsed hungrily then, its fell power a radiant blaze in the cool icy landscape. "The facility contains precious information. Work carefully."

Darth Carnifex ​

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

OBJ 1: Find Out What Happened

(All art on this bio/thread is made by river23. The rights belong to them. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)​

// Malgus- Arturius-023 \\

​

WEAPON: DC-17m with Stimrifle attachment.
EQUIPMENT: MedPack, 5x BactaStims, 5x Bandages.
ARMOR: Second Legion Armor
NEARBY: CT-312 Lord Nyeklas Trayze Tesar

Not a single speck of warmth.

The dropship down was quiet, eerily quiet. Jacen, and the rest of his team traveled down on their assault ship, as per usual, and barring the usual game plan chatter, no one much spoke. It felt cold. The briefing felt cold. The ship felt cold. It was all freezing.

And the dark robed characters riding down in the other ships made it feel more so.
At least when they made planet fall, Jacen could stretch his legs, prepare himself for a fight. Or so he thought, until the ramp lowered and the howling wind blasted him full force.


“Radio Ch-ch-ch-check.” Jacen keyed his comm, shaking furiously as the cold wind bit at him.

“Coming in clear, TK-710. Proceed,” came the dispassionate response from command he had grown accustomed to. He dropped his hand and rubbed his chest. The armor he wore was insulated against extreme temperatures. At least, that’s what they said when they issued it. But Jacen doubted anyone ever intended the wearer to stand outside a foreboding Sith Factory in the mother of all snow storms on probably the coldest planet in the known galaxy.

“N-Never a nice place. It’s either a planet made of sand and glass, a crashed horror droid ship, or a d-damn ice ball.” He muttered to himself. He went back up the ramp, grabbing some heat lamps and bringing them down.

“We’ll u-use these as bread c-crumbs.” He said, looking up at his team. “A-and to k-keep from freezing.”

One of the Dark robed characters, one of many masked ones appeared out from the snow as if from a horror vid. Jacen turned and snapped to attention, taking the figure to be a Sith, “My Lord Nyeklas . We stand r-ready.” He bowed his head slightly, before turning back to his team. “Thirty-two,” he looked over at the flame trooper, TK-3232, “stay real c-close. If you find a chance to roast me.” He shivered again, looking at CT-312, giving the tradesmarked thumbs up to the enigmatic trooper, “Take it. Send me home in an urn, not a popsicle.”

 

[Trayze Tesar]

Objective 1: Figure Out What Happened

---

CURRENT MISSION - Cold Case
Immediate Goals -
1: Investigate Arcturus-028

BLUFOR - Commodore Helix

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Commodore Helix || Lirka Ka || Lord Nyeklas || Jacen Breska 'TK-710' || CT-312

---

Chit always flows downward was a proverb often remembered within the Public Peacekeeping Corps - reminding its hearer that things tend to always go wrong, the wisest understand how to direct or mitigate the flow of misfortune. Trayze Tesar, detective turned acolyte, turned Fleet-Captain Under Marque, turned a hundred other unlauded titles earned through a long and thankless career as the "workingman Sith" could tell that this was a disaster in waiting.

A frigid ice planet, one that was able to create the alchemical phrik needed for the Sith Empire, and its forges went cold, its comms unresponsive, and they the unlucky third "rescue" party to ascertain what the kark had happened to the first two and the base itself.

He had registered in his mind's eye the presences of two Sith Troopers, of whom he regarded with more warmth than Malgus did - as well as an unusual Sith he's not met before. When the comm check from "TK-710" came through, Trayze sympathized with the chittering of teeth - only in the worst of hemispheral winters on Besberra even approached getting this cold.

"Acknowledged TK-710." he repeated, the chill causing the agitation of not properly addressing the man's name and rank to be more acidic than he intended to. "Es-Ay-cee 814-oh-one half mike out, landing."

The second dropship had arrived with the rest of the group, snow crunching as the Kiffar wore a mix of robe and insulated armor, taking care to keep his mouth covered behind a modulated mask. Aside from the badge, the markings, and the hood that served more for demarkation and fashion than actual function, Trayze Tesar could have been considered an exotic command trooper rather than a Sith - though Lord Nyeklas would have regarded the algaic tendrils of Trayze's aura to oil-slick-slide around his own.

A curt nod, "Gentlemen", he sighed, and brought forth a datapad and a pen, finding the role of detective occuring far more often than expected as a Sith. "Anything to report, besides us freezing our nads off?" he offered with a dry wit, knowing that the joke may land more with the common trooper than the arcane Sith - and as contrary as that was to advancing his own career, Trayze had his biases, and they would not be changed any time soon...

 

[CT-312]

(All art on this bio/thread is made by me. The rights belong to myself. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)
//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' , Lord Nyeklas , Trayze Tesar , OPEN //:
//: Malgus, Arturius-023 //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: DLT-19, EC-17 blaster, Vibroblade Knife //:
//: OBJECTIVE 1 : Find out what happened. //:

​

CT-312 sat in the assault ship with TK-710 and the other Troopers. Waiting. They were given a brief reprieve before being assigned to another mission. This time involving the first legion. A voice was overheard giving them their mission briefing.

“Mission Objective: You selected will be going to Malgus. Accompanying the First Legion. All of you are assigned to Objective One. There is a facility that you Lot will be investigating. Find out what happened. Keep in contact with the ‘Black Khan’ command network. You will not be the only ones down on the ground. There will be others. DO NOT get in their way. If chit hits the fan and the facility is deemed a loss, it is targeted for obliteration…. Oh, and don’t forget to pack something warm.”

As the ship landed, the group of Troopers inside stood up simultaneously. The ramp touched the snowy ground. They made their way out of the assault ship. CT-312 was met with the piercing cold. She scanned around, checking to see if there were any signs of life aside from them. Visibility was low. The dense sheets of snow falling were pushed sideways as the wind gusted ferociously on. Howling. As the snow swirling around landed, the ground was accumulating quickly with a soft, icy layer. Piling high. It was quiet. Everything felt muted. As if this whole planet was swallowed by the snow storm.

She felt the cold pierced through her armor. Feeling it in her bones. ‘Frak it’s cold.’ . CT-312 moved next to MB-1782, positioning herself closely behind him. He was using his riot shield, blocking the onslaught blast of cold air. It kind of helped. She had an abnormal feeling converging on their area. The only recent events she could recall that same feeling was on Woostri and Rugosa. Thinking. Clearly realizing this feeling is going to be more of an occurrence, CT-312 would have learn to accept it, then to fear it. Whatever it was.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she heard TK-710 through her helmet comms. He was checking the radio frequency. Confirming it wasn’t affected by the snow storm. CT-312 watched as he laid down some heat lamps around the area. She listened to him chatter about the cold. Chuckling. Still the same TK-710. Watching him make use of himself, she felt compelled. She patted MB-1782 on his shoulder, signaling him to move. ‘Guess I should help’, she smiled beneath her helmet. She took a breath and spoke through her helmet’s voice modulator, a deep voice resonated.

“MB-1782, CC-1441, RK-1001 set up a perimeter around the heat lamps.”

From her peripherals she noticed TK-710 was approached by a figure in black robes as well as another figure. ‘Sith Lords?’, One day she’ll understand the Empire's culture. TK-710 was jesting with TK-3232, whom he was next to. She smirked at his comment. Cold was definitely an understatement. CT-312 spoke in the comms.

“Doing scouting things. Be right back. ”

She took off by herself, surveying ahead. Making sure she isn’t too far from the camp. One could get easily lost in this winter wonderland. Looking around she was able to make out some structure of sorts from the low visibility. It seems they have landed near, if not in a security port. The facility shouldn’t be too far then. CT-312 spoke through her comms.

"This is CT-312. Scouting report: It seems like we're nearby, if not, in a security port. Visibility is near to none. I do see a larger structure. That may be the facility we are looking for. Standing by."

​

 

[Lord Nyeklas]

LOCATION: Malgus
OBJECTIVE: 1
ATTIRE: Attire Here
THEME: MUSIC HERE
TAGS: CT-312 | Trayze Tesar | Jacen Breska 'TK-710' |
Click Here for Voice Sample of Nyekla's Voice

Nykelas watching the troops finish setting up base camp with heat lamps, The wind still blistering and the snowfall blizzard wasn't making things easier. Nyeklas thought to himself "What the hell did I sign myself up for". Nyeklas could hear but just barley the sounds of other drop ships arriving. Nykelas watched as troops piled off the drop ship shivering. He watched as one approached him and respectfully greeted him. Nyeklas stared down at the trooper that ovbiously was shorter than him with Nyeklas standing at 7 feet tall. Nykelas walked closer to the troop so he could hear him and would not have to shout when he replied to the soldier. He listened to the one troop turn and talk to someone named thirty-two and tell him to roast him so he could go home if he had the chance. Nyeklas simply shook his head and spoke in a very dark modulated voice that felt heavy upon the world with an empty deep echo. "Young Trooper, do not be a wimp, it is not that cold here, this is just a snow blizzard" Nyeklas looks over the troopers shoulder at the one called Thirty-Two. "You, If you roast him, I will roast you until dead." Nyeklas raised his hand to show lightning protruding from his finger tips to show an example of what he means before putting his hand back down and looking back at the troop in front of him. "What's your name Soldier?"

Nyeklas Noticed the other man approach, Nyeklas looking him up and down getting a scale of him then heard him ask anout anything to report besides freezing their nads off. Nyeklas simply shook his head no. "Nothing yet, just arrived, troops are setting up base camp to keep these soldiers at least a little warm before we head towards the complex." Nykelas then would see the Scout trooper arrive and mention they would be doing scouting things and they would be right back. Nyeklas nodded to them in approval before looking back to the one who asked for the report. "Any ideas what we are facing in there, also what's your name?" Nyeklas would ask him, before looking to the other troops and then back to him awaiting for a reply from any of the ones that just showed up as well waiting to see if any others showed up.

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective: Find out what happened (and clean up the mess).
Equipment: Flamestaff, E-4H Phosphor Pistol
Tags: Trayze Tesar / Lirka Ka / OPEN​

Helix, predictably enough, didn't seem perturbed by the life-stealing temperatures. He strode with his usual noiseless alien grace alongside Trayze and Ka, occasionally stopping to study some trifle that caught his attention.

"Fascinating." He murmured, forming one finger into a pointed claw and dragging it along the wall. "They do take us to the most charming locales. Never a beach planet. Always swamps, frozen wastes, haunted tombs." What may have been an attempt at humor was perhaps dishonest from Helix; he found places like this far more compelling.

"I do hope we find the party or parties responsible first. It is most instructive if I can peel away the skin and muscle before it is all ruined by saber burns. See the molecules, get a sense of how it works." The creature's resonant, buzzing snarl of a voice coupled with his musings on cell-level vivisection did little to lighten the mood.

"How did they manage to drag you along on so dreary a chore, Trayze?" Helix asked abruptly. "One would imagine a man of your many talents would have better things to do than tracking whatever horror dispatched the Emperor's useless minions this month." While Helix showed a degree of grace and civility to Tesar and a scant few others, this seldom (if ever) extended to the rest of the Order.

Unsettlingly, the nano-colony's normally blank, beaked face formed a toothy mouth, which spread into what may have been an attempt at a friendly smile. It was like looking into the maw of a Sarlacc. "Ever thus to those capable of finishing a job, I suppose." Helix had evidently quickly warmed to Trayze, perhaps out of a half-misplaced sense of camaraderie with another problem-solver in the trenches. Helix could respect that: he always liked to be in the thick of the carnage himself, when mission parameters allowed.

"My sensors do register temperatures well below the needed scale to be fatal to most forms of life. I do hope you both brought along adequate insulation."

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

Find Out What Happened

(All art on this bio/thread is made by river23. The rights belong to them. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)​

// Malgus- Arturius-023 \\

​

WEAPON: DC-17m with Stimrifle attachment.
ARMOR: Second Legion Armor
NEARBY: CT-312 Lord Nyeklas Trayze Tesar | OPEN!

Definitely a Sith Lord. Not a shred of a sense of humor.

Jacen snapped back to a crisp salute,

“T-TK-710, my L-Lord.”

The thought of defending himself, explaining he was only kidding, trying to make light of the situation, or explain that it was -60c, much colder than their insulated armor protected for for prolonged periods of time, came to his mind.

Jacen met faceplates with TK-3232 for a moment before returning to look straight ahead. Jacen continued shivering.

Not that cold, he repeated in his mind. Right. And I’m Darth Prazutis . He thought, snarkily, before the gravity of the situation truly hit him.

He began to try to think of an apology, but just then his comm crackled to life, and 312's modulated voice came through.

"This is CT-312. Scouting report: It seems like we're nearby, if not, in a security port. Visibility is near to none. I do see a larger structure. That may be the facility we are looking for. Standing by."

Jacen brought his hand up to his comm, “Acknowledged, 3-312.” Jacen forced out, shivering. The feeling of cold he felt outside was now beginning to seep inside, poisoning his heart with fear as the feeling of darkness crept off of the masked man. “F-Forgive me, My L-Lord.” He said, finally, bowing his head. “I-it won’t happen again.” He chittered, the cold continuing to eat through the layers of his suit.

 

[Odrin Rath]

OBJ 3: SURVIVE

Equipment: Lightsaber & Armor
Assets: Starship
Tags: Darth Prazutis (mentioned)

Ringing. His damn ears were ringing. Its the only thing he felt before the soreness of his body came into the focus of his addled mind. He felt like he was frozen in place, his organs restarting like they had been in a state of slumber. Then his red eyes shot open in pain.

He still could not move, as if some heavy blanket was draped over him and holding him firm. Odrin closed his armored gauntlet around ashy snow, black metal shards of damaged duraplast and white Hoth snow mixing together. His eyes continued to scan around as his hearing came to. Then it all connected in a instant.

The damn transport had went down. This wasn't the first time the big burly bastard had went down in a shuttle but most times it was over a battlefield with more activity and things to kill. Here though? This time? There was just a whole lot of blasted snow. He hated snow.

Someone was screaming somewhere even as their lungs emptied, only to regain their breath and continue that damnable howling. What remained of their Adonis transport was a mess of a wreckage around him. Fire still burning on emptied fuel as smoke filled the windy air. Wind that reminded him of his not so distant entry into his new apprenticeship which started on Dromund Kaas. A chamber and experience he went into weak and brittle but exited strong and reforged.

Odrin glanced over his shoulder, seeing a broken piece of the transports wing weighing him down. He did not want to think what his body would look like if not for wearing his full armor. Cumbersome as it was it clearly served its purpose this day.

As snow and ash speckled his black beard and hair, Odrin tapped into his current pain and yelled out as he utilized the Force to shove the debris off of him, rising to his feet with effort as the wing fragment fell to the side with a loud bang. Was that man still screaming?

Still recovering from the effort of freeing himself and the crash itself, Odrin stretched his arms behind him and rolled his shoulders as his crimson cloak blocked all but the most insistent of this wind. Finally finding his footing, he turned to his left and laid eyes on the Legionnaire howling his lungs out as the trooper held his guts in his hands. How unfortunate for him.

Odrins heavy footsteps approached the man, even as he locked eyes with the towering Sith and seemed to plead for aid. Odrin furrowed his brow at the soldier before twisting his fingers and snapping the troopers neck with the Force. A quick pop and snap of bone and the yells stopped.

Only the burning of fuel and the wicked wind remained.

He'd have to find his way to the facility so he could keep his Master updated on things, like he was instructed to do. First, he would see if any others survived the crashes as he noticed two more smoke trails nearby.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 2 Restart the Forge / Riddle of Steel
Tags: Ukvax the Gilded / Open!
---‐-----------------------------

Malgus, a renaming that served as one of the very few agreements He had with the powers that be, wasn't His first choice of destination at all. A frozen wasteland on the edges of Sith space was already far from ideal but coming to the aid of a facility meant to supply and maintain the corpse's expansive vessel was frankly not His problem to deal with. If the Eternalists couldn't keep track of a few factories then it shouldn't fall on the rest of them to clean up the mess.

However, there was something about this place that had drawn His attention and thus His presence this day. Arturius-023 didn't just extract minerals or process ore, it produced Dark Steel. Darth Strosius was no stranger to alchemizing metal, even on a larger scale, but while He was certain His methods and products were far superior He couldn't deny that the Eternalists had the upper hand on sheer production if nothing else. A closely guarded process that they were now so desperate to restore that they would risk pulling in the assistance of the wider Order for the task.

Oh how He loved when the competition was desperate, it made the task of finding weak points in their plots and operations so much easier. Today He intended to find such a weakness, even if it did mean braving Malgus's world of ice and wind. The approach to the facility was hardly a comfortable ride but given the conditions outside it was better than expected really. Unfortunately He couldn't make use of His own forces for transport this time, the wind necessitated lighter travel with experienced pilots that could weave through the storm with as little risk as possible. Traveling alongside members of the First Legion wasn't ideal but it had to be done He supposed.

The prize within would be well worth the discomfort.

Darth Strosius stepped into the port and briefly clenched His fangs together as a stray wind whipped against Him, thankful that most of them weren't going to be an issue from this angle of entrance. For once His heavy robes weren't out of place at all, although truthfully they didn't offer as much insulation as was needed for a world like this. Especially not during a raging storm like the one battering the facility at present. As He approached the doors and ran His hidden gaze over the frozen tracks He noticed Geonosians already at work trying to get one of the doors functioning again. With one familiar Geonosian in particular.

"Archduke! What a pleasant surprise." He called over the sound of hacking at ice and distant wind. He turned to the squad of engineers shivering behind Him and gestured for them to begin working on the other track. "Come on then, fusioncutters at the ready. If we can't close this port then we'll all freeze." Temperatures were dropping quick and all it would take was a shift in the wind to bring the full wrath of the storm down upon them. They had to be quick if they had any hope of making it our without any frostbite.

Never one to shy away from work, the masked Sith Lord ignited His lightsaber on a lower power setting before starting to hack away at the ice covering the tracks. He cleaved into the thicker areas of frost, using His strength and blade to shatter the greatest points of resistance in order to speed up the process. It wasn't fast work by any means but between Himself, the Geonosians, and the engineer squads it should be done before the winds turned and the temperature plummeted. Hopefully.

 

[Kaila Irons]

OBJECTIVE II​

Wearing: Armor + Thermal cape + Mask
Tag: Quinn Varanin Tamsin Graves Eira Dyn Ukvax the Gilded Darth Strosius

Darth Anathemous marched out of the transport as she had so many times before.

Some might find it comical the way she moved as though joining a battle for what amounted to menial labor. The young Darth had always taken matters much too seriously however, and the forebodingly empty facility was somehow more eerie than any tomb she'd raided. They were supposed to be quiet and dead, this place was not.

To say nothing of the anxiety which weighed on her broad shoulders, knowing that her dear Quinn Varanin shared in this danger.

Best make it quick then.

She approached the others, apprentice and paramour in tow, along with a several SBH-commando droids which bore the marks of a long dead past and wore matching thermal cloaks, extras to lend their organic masters in case of emergency. Anathemous was not here merely to participate in the expedition, but to protect them, and ensure they worked quickly.

"For the good of the empire." she reminded herself.

She was seeing one of it's royals after all.

"I think that's the Archduke ahead, curious to see aristocracy so hard at work."

Hardly meant as in insult, she might have done the same in his shoes. Or... anklets, whatever Geonosians wore.

"And Strosius?"

Yes, she recognized the mask now.

Anathemous fell in a few paces from the others, summoning a great flame in hand as she called out to them.

"My lord, Archduke," she called to each "I've got this side, I'll join you in a moment."

Then the pyromancer shot her hands forth, and a roaring gout of flame burst from from each, rapidly melting through ice on her side. All the while, her droids formed a defensive parameter around the group.

​

 

[The Final Omen]

The storm did not howl—it screamed.

What had begun as a weather anomaly three weeks ago now moved with the weight and wrath of a planetary tantrum. The Adonis transports had to fight their way through the wind like blades through bone. Systems blinked red as sensors failed to find horizon lines, and the snow turned the sky white—no above, no below, only the inside of a coffin with walls of ice and wind.

The facility loomed somewhere ahead, but from this far out, it could’ve been a myth.

The Black Khan’s orbital cannons remained trained on Arturius-023 like a finger on the trigger of a gun pointed at one’s temple. But even from orbit, the data feeds were... off. Glitched. As though the storm was more than just snow and wind. As though it reached up into space and touched the sensors, clawed at the data, made nonsense out of readings.

And on the surface, the cold was not just temperature—it had presence.

It clawed into suits that were supposedly vacuum-sealed. It whispered through visors. Not voices. Not language. Just pressure. Just presence.



Lord Nyeklas , first to arrive, stood amidst the swirling flurries like a figure from a dream half-remembered. His towering form drew shadows where there should’ve been none, the howling wind parting around his bulk with unnatural grace. The Dark Side pooled around him—not alive, but something deeper. Deader.
Even the troopers of the First Legion, hardened as they were, instinctively kept a few paces further from him than protocol required. Their survival instincts said what their training could not:

You do not stand too close to a grave with legs.

And then, the snow shifted.

Not movement—not yet—but tone. A note just beneath hearing. A tremor in the bones. Something that whispered not into the ears, but directly into the marrow. Nyeklas, attuned as he was, would feel it.
Not malevolence.
Recognition.



Jacen Breska 'TK-710' shivered harder than most. The wind laughed through the seams in his armor. The lamp in his hand flickered slightly, not from wind, but from something else—like an intake of breath from the very storm itself. His joke harmless. His banter familiar. But something in the air responded to humor like a predator responds to the chirp of a bird.
When Nyeklas towered over him and spoke with that voice—modulated but ancient, deepened by a pressure that existed in tombs, not throats—the cold pressed tighter against Jacen’s chest. The snow stung sharper. The shiver wasn’t from fear. Not exactly. It was something deeper. The kind of chill a man feels when walking through a place the dead do not like to be disturbed.

And somewhere out in the white, the lamps Jacen had set flickered… then one went dark.

No wind. No impact. Just... off. Black.



Trayze Tesar , ever the weary detective, arrived with the second team. The sound of boots against snow. The crunch of ice. The hiss of frost against machinery. And silence. So much silence between gusts.
The datapad in his hand buzzed as he tried to maintain a log—but the screen kept distorting. Lines of data blurred. Letters inverted. For a moment, a string of runes replaced the Sith-Imperial identification string. And just as quickly, it was gone.

Static on his earpiece whispered something that sounded like breathing—not his, not anyone’s—and stopped the moment he looked up.

From the edge of his vision, Trayze could swear he saw something move.

But there was only snow.



CT-312 , out in front, had the clearest view—and the worst of the pressure. Her scouting report was accurate: the northern security port lay buried under curling snowdrifts, with glacial fingers clawing back over the hanger’s ion-thawed surface even as she looked at it. But what was more unsettling was the absence.
There were no signs of battle.
No marks of retreat.
No power signatures.
No blood.

Yet there were bootprints. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Not fresh, but not old enough to be covered completely. And they did not go out.

They only went in.

And she was not alone.

In the far right of her HUD, her thermal scan flickered once. Just once. A single humanoid heat signature, maybe fifteen meters ahead and left, standing still. Upright.

Then it vanished.

No movement. No dispersal. Just gone.

And the snow whispered again.



Commodore Helix , the living science experiment, moved with the same silent curiosity that had driven him through laboratories, butcher's pits, and warzones alike. The ice did not bite him. The cold did not care for him. He was not flesh—not anymore.
But even he could sense it.

The wrongness here was not chemical. It was not biological. It was architectural. As if the planet itself had folded inward at this location. As if something beneath the ice pulsed, slowly, like the heartbeat of a creature long thought dead.

His nanite systems pinged internal alerts.
Localized gravitational fluctuations.
Unusual electromagnetic pulses.
Trace amounts of unknown substances.

Impossible.
Not here. Not above the ice.

But yet.

And the smell. Helix didn’t smell, not in the biological way—but some instinct deep within his programming interpreted the chemical vibrations in the air as a scent. And it approximated something…

Rotting copper and crushed bone.
Old blood.
Pressure trauma.
Death that happened long ago—but never finished happening.



As the team approached, the hangar doors groaned as if resentful of their awakening. Ionization batteries from orbit had done their work—barely. The blast doors yawned open like a mouth forced to scream.

Darkness waited inside. Not the absence of light—but the presence of shadow.

No lights flickered on.
No warning klaxons.
No droids met them.
No comms chirped acknowledgment.

The air hung heavy, as if it remembered the breath of the last person to die here and was unwilling to let go.

Inside the walls, the pipes ran cold.

The floors were rimmed in frost, something, somewhere, made a sound like breathing—slow, wet, and unnatural.

The Black Khan’s orbital feed buzzed once in everyone's earpieces.

"Command to ground team. You are cleared for breach. Proceed. Report in every ten minutes. If we lose contact for longer than that..."

The message cut out.

Then the comms hissed again. Another voice.

But this one wasn’t from command.

It was faint, buried beneath static, almost sobbing—then rising into laughter.

"Don’t go… there…"

"...still hungry."

Then silence.

And ahead, the darkness waited.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

Objective 1: Figure Out What Happened

---

CURRENT MISSION - Cold Case
Immediate Goals -
1: Investigate Arcturus-028 (optional)

BLUFOR - Commodore Helix

OPFOR - @The Final Omen(?)

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Commodore Helix || Lirka Ka || Lord Nyeklas || Jacen Breska 'TK-710' || CT-312 || The Final Omen || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

Trayze would have concurred with the mechanoid's covert introduction of him, dryly stating that he's acting here as a "wellness check" - affirming Helix and he being the "blokes who did the dirty work", though stating that if Darth Carnifex , that thrice damned old Tick could be on this world, then this isn't a totally thankless job. Save for whatever credit the Kainites would grant themselves, despite himself, Helix, and the Empire's finest in the armed forces did.

He would have turned to those same forces, a male and a female - one natural, one clone if his senses were accurate - he would have asked for names and ranks, and if they were ranked higher than "Captain" he would defer to them. He had, and still did, have many contacts amidst the uniformed NFUs of the Order, and never wavered in his respect for the unsung heroes that kept the lights running.

But the mood changed, the datapad shifted, and he switched to a good old fashioned pen and paper, scrawling the inverted letters, the runes, the instinct of investigation beating out the natural fear and superstition by just enough. The pressure between the incomprehensible whispering, and the movement of something in his peripheral when he looked up turned the cautiously optimistic - or rather, dryly determined - Kiffar into a stone faced fighter. He didn't draw his pistols, not yet, but the mood shifted.

When the Black Khan relayed the comm check in times, and the whisper between the static, Trayze was the first to respond. "Tesar to TOC, say last again," the Kiffar began. "We have received interference from a possible Ten-Seven-En-Cee, either earworm or an Eight-Three-Point-Five. I say again, interference from a Ten-Seven-En-Cee, possible Earworm or Eight-Three Point Five, over."

Ten-Seven-En-Cee, or an "Unknown, Noncorporeal" - leave it to life in the Sith Empire for the police to deal with potential ghosts. He'd encountered them before, but they were barely present - runaway poltergeists at worst. This... this felt different, an earworm meant that there was potential malware, either as a means of defense from Arcturus against unregistered interlopers - that was the best case scenario.

An Eight Three Point Five, or a confirmed spectral entity, especially one so close to a center of Sith Alchemy, could mean bad news.

Just like back aboard the Kaiser... he reminded himself, before the million-miles-a-minute brain once more betrayed him. Did that happen? Was it going to happen?

Did he ever leave?

Steeling himself, he turned to the others, first addressing the Sith Lord and the two troopers. "Milord, we need to double time it on the base-camp, something's in there, and it wants us to find it." There were too many potential variables without evidence, and if evidence were to be found, it would be potentially risky. As much as he would want to have the Khan shift the Comm Check In to every fifteen minutes, or however long it could take to self-assess and expel either malware or paranormal influences, time wasn't something that they had on their side.

After all, how can you win a battle of attrition with something that was already dead?

"CT-312." came the Kiffar's next set of orders. "Switch burst to narrow blowtorch, focus fire."

 

[Lord Nyeklas]

LOCATION: Malgus
OBJECTIVE: 1
ATTIRE: Attire Here
THEME: MUSIC HERE
TAGS: CT-312 | Trayze Tesar | Jacen Breska 'TK-710' | The Final Omen |
Click Here for Voice Sample of Nyekla's Voice

Nyeklas listened to the trooper spat his ID Number and then Nyeklas shook his head. "NO, YOUR REAL NAME SOLDIER" Nyeklas would say with a stern dark tone. He then responded in a casual tone. "Nothing to be apologizing for. Kid, we are both here to do a job, as long as you keep your head in the game you'll live to see another campaign." Nyeklas heard the radio chatter of

CT-312 said:
"This is CT-312. Scouting report: It seems like we're nearby, if not, in a security port. Visibility is near to none. I do see a larger structure. That may be the facility we are looking for. Standing by."

Nodding his head. then Nyeklas saw the bombardment from in the air hit the doors and slowly open with a spine-chilling creek. Nyeklas looked to them as a handful of troops gathered near it trying to flash a light into the darkness of the open door, but their lights met nothing but dead darkness. The the creepy com of something saying don't go in, it's hungry and then silence made Nyeklas focus more on the force to try and sense.... anything but all he could feel was death beyond the darkness, like something in there was stopping him from sensing it.

Nyeklas stared into the darkness of the open door listening to Tayze speak about hoofing it to base camp. Nyeklas nodded to him. "Can we expect reinforcements at Base Camp? Because what is in there.... feels like something I've created with my Abilities in the darkside. It's unnatural, we will need more men to handle this, and there is a chance, not a lot of them will be coming back out once we go in there." Nyeklas looks to Tayze for a response but then quickly diverts his attention back to the blackness, something strange was way off, it wasn't a good feeling, and for something of this nature to set a sith off ease, especially one who creates monsters, wasn't a good sign. But Nyeklas needed to find out what was in there, this could not be a good sign for the Order, but it could be something they could study, and even Nyeklas himself could alter it and enhance it for use for the Order, but only time would tell.

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

Find Out What Happened

(All art on this bio/thread is made by river23. The rights belong to them. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)​

// Malgus- Arturius-023 \\​

WEAPON: DC-17m with Stimrifle attachment.
ARMOR: Second Legion Armor
NEARBY: CT-312 Lord Nyeklas Trayze Tesar | OPEN!

Jacen recoiled, taken aback by the sudden outburst,

“Breska, my Lord. Jacen Breska.”

He was thankful when the word the facility had been located and breached echoed over the short range comms,

“Forgive me, My Lord, D-Duty.” He bowed his head, shivering slightly,

Actually can’t wait to get inside and out from this damn cold. Maybe I’ll stop shivering so much. And maybe I can get away from this Sith.

He wondered, silently, why he had decided to throw his lot in with beings such as these, reflecting on his Imperialist upbringing, his might makes right teachings. Does absolute power have to be so terrifying? He thought to himself as he gathered equipment and made his way to the facility, staying close to his trooper comrades. The warmth from the heatlamps he held brought some comfort to him…for as long as they were lit. As he grew closer to the facility, and the monolithic-like structure loomed in front, and above, of him, he could feel and then see the lamp flicker.

Concerned, Jacen turned back around, scanning the white, featureless, snow blizzard landscape for any speck of light that Lamps might give off, but found nothing beyond the last one he placed. Switching to infrared, he hoped some glimpse…but nothing. “They shouldn’t. Not at this distance. We’re setting them every few y-yards.” He met the faceplate of another trooper, and turned around facing the structure again. The roar of the storm was growing louder, garbling transmissions from Command, and Jacen thought he heard…something. Something he didn’t quite make out.
They both made their way closer to the others when they passed Trayze,

"Tesar to TOC, say last again," the Kiffar began. "We have received interference from a possible Ten-Seven-En-Cee, either earworm or an Eight-Three-Point-Five. I say again, interference from a Ten-Seven-En-Cee, possible Earworm or Eight-Three Point Five, over."

“Nope.” Jacen said, flatly, electing to ignore that mission update.. He keyed his comm, speaking privately while still shivering, “TK-710 to CT-312. Y-you know. I actually kind of miss the bad drops. You know? They never told us anything about what we’d find. They told us our mission, dropped us where we didn’t really have time to think about it, and we either died or didn’t.” He looked at the structure, shouldering his rifle as he hesitantly approached the opening, inviting, all consuming darkness. He scanned what he could see without any scope or sight, as his infrared picked up nothing.

Cold.
Dead.


“I hate having time to think about it.” He keyed off his comm, looking at the rest of the trooper team with him “Feels colder in here, doesn’t it?” He asked rhetorically, turning his head back to face the darkness.

“Best not think about it, who cares. Not me. Nope. Ghosts, cannibal droids, pissed-off wookies or creatures from the deep I don’t care. Ol’ Breska’s got somethin’ for ya and it’s grit. And steel. And preparedness. And vigor. And-” Before Jacen could continue his rambling, the trooper behind him suddenly smacked him on the back of his helmeted head, “312 said to,” the voice said as Jacen turned to look at him, then turned to look at CT-312, then back into the darkness. “Yeah fair play. Whatever let’s make it happen. Sooner it’s done, the sooner we’re done.” He shrugged and shivered, all in one, before keying his comm to the Team Frequency. “Alright let’s hit it Troopers we’re dead already. Signal your ready to begin.” He keyed his comm again, signaling base camp and trying to reach Command.

“This is TK-710 reporting Trooper ready.”
A myriad of identical responses broadcast out consecutively as each trooper signaled their ready to begin the Operation.

 

[Tamsin Graves]

Theme: Ice Ice Baby
Equipment: Twin Omens | DE-10 | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Circlet of Projection | Stars Enchained
Tags: Kaila Irons | Quinn Varanin | Eira Dyn | Ukvax the Gilded | Darth Strosius

She was sweating bundled up like a little kid whose parents thought the cold would kill them instantly. This was Tamsin first trip to a world of ice and snow, she had read about this thing called snow solidified water or liquid that clumped together. That one made sith spawn called snowmen with and also things called snowballs that one fought with.

Before coming to this winter wonder land, she had studied these snowball fights thoroughly to know best how to combat the natives of these ice worlds. She thought she understood the tactics well not that there were many rules just that it was dishonorable to put rocks or chunks of ice in your snowballs.

She was excited to step foot on this world, she had never seen anything like it in her life. A new experience but she also felt so uncomfortable in the clothing she was wearing. She looked around her at people on the transport bundled up and still complaining about being cold, whereas she felt like she was overheating.

She followed beside her sister and master like penguin waddling along as they exited the transport. Her eyes looking at all those around her feeling cold, but she felt hot even in the blistering wind. Her eyes looking towards Ukvax the Gilded as Kaila mentioned an Archduke, she saw an insect like man in that direction.

Though it was Kaila's words that caught her attention more as she then looked to the Princess Quinn Varanin . Of the royals and nobility, she had met, which was a few at this point most got down in the mud with everyone else. Those words seemed odd, but it was only a passing thought as she saw Darth Strosius a man they had once went looking for and ended up fighting Kainites and Elves. She, so hoped they wouldn't run into elves today; she didn't have ion grenades and doubted she would be very maneuverable in these damnable winter clothes.

She then watched as Kaila produced a flame in her hand with ease and moved to start melting away some ice. The droids moving to create a perimeter around them. Tamsin just watched uncomfortably in her winter clothing sweating underneath. "I'm to dang hot in these damn clothes." She complained, something she rarely did. She was hoping for snowball fights and snowmen not the burning pits of hell. She instinctively began to peel away layers of her clothing trying to find some relief first removing her face covering the sweat on her face turning to ice crystals and it felt so good to her.