The Warrior King's Domain; The Imperial Dominion of Zenith Prime

[Kirk Skobra]

Kirk Skobra​

Location: Zenith Prime​

Objective: Fulfill the Contract​

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Five hours in.​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5gDUrvptCo​

It might've taken a couple of orbital bombardments from Imperial naval vessels and the breach , but as Sal Suun's cronies began to haul equipment and shipping containers out of the compound, it was obvious Sal was at last starting to wise up, and jump ship from this train wreck of a planet. Apparently Sal was overly confident in the Warrior-King's little defenses. It was about time, too. Kirk had been sitting on his behind this whole time, grumpily scoping out the area with the electromagnetic scope of his DC-17m Sniper Rifle, with a cigarra gritted in between his teeth and lips. The only reason Kirk hadn't gone to scope out another potential compound of Sal, was because his goons were out front and armed like they were waiting for something, and sure enough, a freighter-sized speeder rolled up onto the compound from one of the clearings, and unloaded roughly a platoon's worth of henchmen. Kirk could hear the engagements far in the distance from the city limits; the entire planet might as well had been ablaze with the naval engagements in the atmosphere. He wasn't about to let that distract him, though. His eyes were trained on the compound, a snake in the grass waiting for the perfect opportunity.

"We're done playing games, Sal. Now, where are you?", Kirk whispered to himself, in a gruff, inquisitive tone of voice.

Kirk grumbled to himself, following the miniature bout of self-chatter. Of course this makeshift outlaw band of Klatooinians, Weequay, and Nikto were the perfect candidates for this sort of heavy-lifting; it got boring looking at their unexpressive and dull faces. Besides, if Kirk wanted that view, all he had to do was to take a look in the mirror; he wasn't looking too different from a Klatooinian, Weequay, or a Nikto these days either. The henchmen were loading up the crates into a freighter-sized speeder. There might've been two platoons of henchmen at the disposal of Sal; he had to make his shot count, whenever Sal would make his presence physically known.

Kirk was repeating the same thoughts he had an hour ago; "Where the hell was he?", Kirk asked himself, yet again.

Suddenly, the answer to Kirk's question was right there, leaving the front doorway of the compound in an exquisite, well-tailored suit: Sal Suun, himself.

It took him only a few moments to line up that perfect, crisp, clean shot.

It was that perfect opportunity, that, that same old snake in the grass was waiting for.

It was only moments later, Kirk frankly distributed the holocaust known as death,unto the man known as Sal Suun, with a blaster bolt travelling from the barrel of a DC-17m Sniper Rifle that went clean through his head that caused it to suddenly erupt into a red mess. The decapitated corpse could only fall to it's knees, before eventually falling face first unto the grassy forest surface beneath himself. It was time to leave. Kirk briskly paced off with all due subtlety that could be applied, with the guards now on red-alert with their boss dead as a door-nail; an ominous alarm sounded from behind him. As he paced off, he pressed a button on his wrist-mounted datapad, and sent the video feed containing the evidence of the Sal's demise from his shoulder camera that caught the footage, to Imperial Intelligence.

Kirk wasn't too far from his speeder bike either, and it wasn't long before the clearing and the compound were far behind him, leaving the mercenaries and henchmen in the dust.

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

The body of a Rodian thug fell to the ground after being cradled by the black clad arms of one of Inferno Squad. A line of green blood trickled from his neck as the wound from the stealth kill removed all life from the guard, his removal allowing the four man team to enter into the marble interior of the palace like shadows in the dying sunlight.

“This is Inferno Actual.” Kayrce, captain and acting commander of the special forces team whispered through her helmet, the words encrypted and dispatched across various broken channels. “Inferno is a-go.”

The corridor they moved through was dark, having been sparked from the grid by Inferno to allow their stealth systems to fully allow them to become invisible within the hornet’s nest. Outside the thudding of artillery and exploding energy shots were becoming increasingly louder and closer. Imperial Stormtroopers would already be advancing on the gates, preparing for the final push, yet it would be Inferno that would get them in.

“Three ahead.” The call came from Briana who was positioned to Kayrce’s right, immediately three blaster bolts connected with them dropping each at the same time, allowing Inferno to make the next move forward towards the further interior of the palace.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom and Inferno One made their way from the wreckage of the bomber. Their stealth cloaks made them shadows in the night. Harbingers of doom, the monsters that went bump in the dark. Making their way through back alleys, with ghost covering their rear and Desmond taking point. Boots splashed in the occasional puddle, marking the only sign that anyone was even their. Inferno One were the Grand Moffs personal assassins. This is what they were made for and what they excelled at. The Verpine rifles slung across their chest were utterly silent, a death many wouldn't even see coming.

“Two tangos, they’re guarding the sewage entrance to the palace,” Desmond said while marking the hostile IFF’s with his cybernetic HUD.

“Copy, I see ‘em,” Phantom responded “Permission to engage?”

Desmond peered out the alley and spotted a convoy of enemies passing. They were headed towards the crash sight Desmond guessed.

“Wait for my cue,” Desmond said.

“Copy Reaper,” The last of the trucks passed the two guards.

“Engage,”

Immediately two shots were fired almost simultaneously. The guards dropped, a faint plume of red mist exploding from their chest cavities as the twin rounds found their mark.

“Let’s move,” Desmond ordered and the five commandos began to rush forward.

They made it to the sewage grate and Desmond withdrew a thermite torch.

“Cover me,” Desmond stated as he began to cut the grate with the torch.

Inferno One set up firing vectors around their leader and prepared for anything. The sound of the gate clanking to the cold metal surface of the sewage pipe was plenty indication that Desmond was done.

“Moving,” Desmond said and the rest followed into the shadows of the under levels of the palace.

The place smelled rancid, rats scurried to and fro, their was faint squishy feel to the muck beneath their boots, and it was darker than mid hallows night on Csillia.

“Activate low-light vision,” Desmond said and he heard echoes of affirmative.

They crossed through the dank tunnels, their cybernetic mini map guiding the way. A short time later they crossed a probe patrolling the tunnels.

“Hold,” Desmond said and Inferno One sat deathly still.

The probe passed and they moved again, they remained undetected as their stealth cloaks shielded them from the machines sensors

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Zenith Prime​

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The Galactic Empire had it's way with Zenith Prime, it's fleet descending upon it like a flock of birds - yet these were no ordinary birds, they were bred for war and destruction, covered from stern to bow in turbolasers capable of destroying everything and anything a person may have known in their entire life. The soldiers of the Empire were brutal, efficient, in essence they were Fett, but of a different breed. Perhaps a former version of himself, one that was loyal to a cause and not just to credits. A part of the Bounty Hunter that once had a purpose. Although they were slaves, incapable of realizing their true potential just as this nightmare of a man had realized all those years ago. Whilst the invasion of Zenith Prime carried on and the death and destruction of it's people and soldiers were underway Fett found himself alone... alone with these thoughts.

His existence wasn't quite pleasant. Bred to fight for a cause he had no belief in, but ultimately went the way of his template, or his 'father' as he saw it. The tragedy of the father became the sins of the son. With no guidance, Fett abandoned the Republic and everything he knew. All he had was the shadow of an example and a sliver of information on Jango. Naturally, a man with his innate talent for combat suited the bounty hunting profession - and on his own volition did he seek this title, becoming widely known by both the wealthy with a death wish and the scum of the underworld. The thoughts of what could've been never escaped him. Suppressed? Maybe, though not forgotten.

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The Mandalorian kept on his path, wading through the snow in the alps of Zenith Prime. Surrounded by snow, mountains and the occasional forest he so came across. All he could hear was the deafening wind, parting as it struck him like a wave on a rock. His emerald green armor a standout among the sea of white, though without any natural camouflage that the prey of this land possessed he caught the eye of the feline predators that roamed. They stalked him and he knew, he could just feel it. Fett's only reaction to this potentially life threatening moment was the clutching of his carbine and a glance towards his motion trackers every so often - yet this weather was less than favorable, and his sensors were spotty at best.

This beast was white, covered entirely with thick fur that shielded it from the harsh elements. In truth it's habitat was pretty, untouched by this war and the constant expansion of sentient species across the galaxy. Well, apart from that one outpost carved into a mountain, these alps were untouched. This particular creature knew nothing of a war, perhaps it had never seen a man - it would explain it's inability to recognize how difficult it would be to tear through Mandalorian Iron, though that may of been a result of it's primal brain. Regardless, with slow plunging steps it approached. This creature was longer than Fett, almost taller too, it's feet approached the Bounty Hunter faster than his own could walk away from it with his head bowed. Suddenly. It's pace quickened, jolting into a sprint and eventually leaping up into the air with a terrifying roar. Yet it's prey was as vicious if not more than itself. A quick pivot, turning on his heels, the two locked eyes and two shots rung out - sending six red blaster bolts into the animals chest.

It struck the ground with a thunderous thud, laying still, motionless bar the frantic rise and fall of it's chest. Was it best to leave it to die, or finish the job himself? Did he even know what was right and wrong anymore? This was an animal, it had no idea of what it was getting itself into so as Fett stood over it's barely lifeless body, he discharged another burst of bolts into it. This time it's head took the brunt, though this time it was dead. In one way or another this beast was similar to Koda, both hunters that know nothing else. A sad thing really, if this animal could be tamed perhaps it would of lived a happy life; in the same vain if Fett could be tamed his life may be just has happy, though Koda is happy - he lives for the hunt, the thrill and the reward At least that's what he tells himself. He once had the best of both worlds but those days are gone.

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There it was, the Concord Spear was within his sight. Something else was there, a group of brown cloaked individuals wading through the snow themselves. Were they trying to steal his ship? He assumed as much, wouldn't you? Taking his final steps out of the forest, his feet firmly planted into the snow to stand proud at the edge of the forest. It wasn't long before they turned to face, by looks of it they were Jedi - easily recognizable by their attire, and upon further inspection the lightsabers. They could feel his presence in the force, despite the fact that Advanced Recon Commandos were known for a minimized presence naturally, he'd made one of his way, one that was eerily similar to his predecessor. With his blaster in hand, he stood to oppose them and so they ignited their lightsabers. Six of them standing strong, of varying ages and blade color. A similar situation from many years ago.

Koda bristles with weapons. An instinctive killer; arguably the most dangerous man in the galaxy. Capable of killing within a second. They can feel the violence Fett radiates: in the force, a pulsar of death. The Jedi knew this, one could tell by the way they huddled together. It wasn't for warmth, it was for defense. Slowly they advanced upon him, circling around him as the Bounty Hunter stood firm with his blaster aimed. "You're under arrest, Bounty Hunter. Surrender now and we will ensure you are treated fairly." Said the older man in the center. They knew of him, most of those who fought against the Empire did. Fett's next move was unsuspected and caught the lot off guard, he in fact lowered his weapon - allowing it to be caught by the sling. They seemed at ease, though they could sense something was afoot. In a spectacular display of speed the Bounty Hunter rocked up onto the air, hovering ever so slight as he spun clockwise, firing an arc of flames around him which caused the Jedi to cower. Unfortunately for one of them, they were burnt to a crisp, scratching and clawing at their own face before succumbing to their wounds which had extended across their body. Fett possessed more guile than they had anticipated, perhaps their first mistake.

Landing back into the ground, he reached for his Carbine as they recovered from the flames. One young Iridonian Zabrak rotated back to see a blaster pointed in his face, before he could react the trigger was pulled and he was dead. Dropping like a stone in the snow with a searing hole in his head. Though no more shots could be fired from that blaster for it's barrel was sliced off after a blue bladed lightsaber carved through it. Without putting too much thought into the Bounty Hunter rotated, slapping the hot edge against the middle-man's face, causing him to recoil to his left as Fett snatched the blaster pistol that rest in his left holster. Within such a short time he'd pulled it out and fired a series of bolts from the WESTAR-34, making it's distinctive sound echo as the snowstorm seemed to calm. Three were down and three remain, but these ones seemed rather inexperienced, able to tell by their hesitant stance at the sight of such a merciless killing. Though a Nautolan woman rallied her younger Jedi companions.

With a swift swing of her green blade it came descending down towards Koda, although he was fast, he was strong, he was a killer; possibly the most dangerous man in the galaxy. Not to mention that the gadgets Mandalorians were known for having could send even the most hardened warriors into a panic attack. Releasing his grip with his right hand, the EE-3 dropped down into the snow, there was no use for it anyways. His right hand, now free and adorned with a crushgaunt caught the lightsaber as his left hand swung up to discharge bolts rapidly into her gut. Watching the life drain from her eyes, he released his grip as she fell lifelessly into the snow. The two remaining were hesitant, but not to be taken lightly, anyone in such a situation would.

A kick was extended from the human female, his blaster pistol thrown away from his arm and somewhat buried in the snow for the time being. They enclosed upon him as the experienced kill lowered himself down, grasping a handful of snow and hurling it up into her eyes - she momentarily flinches, taking a short few seconds to wipe the snow from her eyes, back pedaling. Meanwhile Koda leaped up, delivering a drop kick into the chest of the young Twi'lek male that stood alone to face him. Sending him backwards, laying on his chest as he rotated through the air. As they tried to reach their feet the Bounty Hunter made it up first, sending the spiked tip of his right boot into the Jedi's head, killing him in an instant.

The human female stood alone now, her lightsaber down by her side as the Bounty Hunter stood across from her in silence. They stared each other down, daring each other to attack. In a quick motion the Bounty Hunter lowered himself to a knee, pulling out his remaining blaster pistol and firing towards their right hand side, as a response the lightsaber made it's way their also. His left wrist was raised, firing a cable from it that would wrap itself around the wrists of the Jedi and binding them together. With the cord tied to his gauntlet and her wrist, Koda yanks it towards him, she falls into the snow - her lightsaber falling from her grip, and blaster bolts peppering her back. She was no doubt dead. They all were.

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Like his template before him he was capable of killing with his bare hands. It didn't seem to matter if they were Jedi or not, anyone and everyone was capable of any amount of violence if they put their minds to it. With elite training and years of experience it wasn't a problem. What were they even doing here, an emissary to the people's army? Not like it mattered anymore. Standing around the bodies of his fallen enemies he spotted their weapons, a civilized one or so they claimed. They were trophies to the right people, and so he collected them, along with his own blaster pistol that was dropped in the snow. As for the EE-3? It was a lost cause.

What had happened here was similar to Galidraan, yet a more positive outcome for the Mandalorian in this instance. Koda was left only to this thoughts and trophies as he left the planet in the Concord Spear. His mind backtracked to what little he knew of Jango Fett, the Death Watch were his enemy. It would only be right and just for Koda to consider them the same. The bounty on Monroe was one of the largest he'd ever seen, but should he set it aside for the duration of the Civil War and continue Jango's legacy? He didn't know, it was a big commitment, and a big turndown. In time Fett would have an answer, although for the time being he just had credits. He was done with Zenith Prime.

 

[Adron Malvern]

The position of an Imperial Guard is to protect the very heart of the Empire. It is the highest achievement and the greatest honor. You shall stand as their Commander.

Adron's eyes shot open, his mind drifting back to reality and away from the void that was his meditative trance. He sat silently in his room on The Hunter, his personal flagship. He had spent the last several months in training, focusing his skills with a blade and The Force. Though he had not expected it, he had arisen from this training with a new title. Lord-Captain of the Imperial Guard.

​Not bad for a traitor. He mused, a slight smirk coming to his face as he recalled the treachery that delivered him to the Empire in the first place. In his early days he had regrets about leading The Dominion to it's destruction in hopes of preserving his own life and goals. Now? Now he embraced it, he embraced who he was and who he was meant to be.

​A soft knock erupted from his door, causing him to push himself to a standing position.

​"What is it?" He demanded, eyeing a clock in the corner of his room. Surely they must be growing closer to Zenith Prime?

​"Zenith Prime, Lord-Captain, we are nearly there," A chilling voice swept through the door as if it was not even there, causing Adron to take a moment of pause. "Very well, let's make an appearance, shall we?" He returned, yet there was no response to his bit of witty banter.

​Strapping his weapons belt to his waist he took notice of the swords that hung from it. Hand-forged by the finest the Empire could provide they were as much a part of the man as his own hands.

​After securing his weapons and adjusting his uniform a bit, Adron made his way towards the door. As it slid into it's hold, opening unto him, he took notice of the ghost-like figure who stood before the door. Clad in ebony robes, the Imperial Shadowguard was an impressive sight to behold. Were it not for the fact Adron had seen the man without his mask, he would wager there was not an actual being beneath those robes.

​Stepping back to make way for Adron, the young Moff took advantage of this to make his way down the hall.

​"The battle is still ensuing, Lord-Captain." The Shadowguard reported, yet he was mute as to which side was winning so the High Moff merely assumed it was the Empire.

​"Of course it is, we're not that late. Is the squad prepared?" He asked, curious if the Shadowguard's elite counterparts were all as prompt.

​"Yes, Lord-Captain," He responded.

​They were approaching the main hangar when Adron felt a slight shift given off from their starship. "We've come out of Hyperspace..." He muttered, before continuing on. As the main hangar was opened his eyes befell the three other Imperial Shadowguards, standing as if stone was but water in their eyes. "Drakos, let's get underway."

​"Yes, Lord Captain." The Shadowguard responded, making his way over to his fellow guardsmen.

 

[Lord Gaius]

The Last Fortress,
Zenith Prime

You wouldn't know it but these men were weary and starved, Arminius mused. Giants among men, the Imperiums Chosen, or so they had been. That dream was long gone, with it the Imperator and Warmaster. They were leaderless, weak and under siege. Dead men walking. Of the green soldiers they had in their company when they began, the footsloggers, were now hardened veterans. Scarred by months of intense siege warfare. Despite constant victories, they were losing. The current warlord that ruled Zenith Prime, Garkur, have had Arminius and his brothers surrounded on all sides for nigh on a year. The forces of the warlord slowly chipped at their defenses and numbers and soon the sheer weight of Garkurs armies would sweep into the fortress like a tide and wash them away.

That day would not come. A greater wave was coming, a tsunami that would cleanse the world of Garkur and his men, and with it, Arminius too. The Imperiums Chosen met in the catacombs of the fortress, hushed whispers ceased as a company captain strode into view. Tacitus was an old but seasoned leader of many campaigns. He had been among the first of the Chosen. By all rights he was a tactical genius and a fearsome warrior. A flag bearer followed in step with Tacitus, the banner strewn with dried blood and tattered from the many battles it had seen. "Brothers," the captains voice boomed, "Intelligence has picked up on the appearance of a fleet in orbit. Battle has commenced between Garkur and what we believe to be Galactic Imperial ships." The room exploded in chatter, each one confirming with the next that their doom was finally sealed. "Hush!" Tacitus roared, green eyes searching the crowd, "Garkur is distracted, and while the Imperials are no allies to us, my lieutenants and I have devised a plan for our salvation and use this Imperial incursion to our benefit."

An elderly man who was more machine than flesh moved forward into the light, his face a mix of cybernetics and scabs on flesh. Scars were heavily laden on his lips and cheeks, and when he spoke he did so with a mechanical voice for he had no tongue, "Our shipyard has been on lockdown since we were pushed back to this fortress, though we cannot reach the shipyard, there is a ferrying dock. There are enough transport ships to fit one full company. They are equipped with hyperdrives but they can only make a short jump as they lack the resources to be able to sustain the company for long."

The room fell quiet, Arminius could feel the tension. He knew they were all thinking the same thing but only one man was brave enough to speak up, "But there are five full companies and Imperator knows how many under-strength companies, let alone the legions of guardsmen we have stationed at the outer walls." The half-mechanical servant eyed the Chosen and looked to the company captain for further instruction. Tacitus took it upon himself and stepped forward to address the man, "You're right, not all of us can make it, but we have a chance to save some of us, save the dream the Imperator showed us, what inspired us to reach into the stars before we were so horribly cast down!" Silence again, and this time it was Arminius who was cast into the light. The captain motioned with his hand, "The Seventh Legion, Third Company will be the one to go, it is the only company that has suffered minimal casualties and losses. My own company will guide them to the dock and protect them as they make their escape. If we're lucky, my men and I can retreat to the fortress. "

A grim unease fell about Arminius, eyes looked at him with hatred. As though he had single-handedly sent them all to their doom. Tacitus cut through that tension and kept the bated eyes from Arminius with his demanding voice, "Arminius and his men will take his company and find resources, recruit mercenaries and conscript men if necessary, whatever it takes to gather forces and come back to save us - if we fail, if he fails, we won't last another year."

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Zenith Prime - Orbit​

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The Bounty Hunter had fulfilled his contract. In fact he had done so long ago, all that was required was for him to return to receive his payment at last. He climbed the alps, captured a political figure, handed her to the Imperials planetside before venturing back up the mountains to his starship. It was a long day, and he was done here, finally. Not to mention the brief engagement with those Jedi, they should of just kept on walking. Might've been killed by the wildlife in that instance, however. That was then, and this is now - ready to take a well deserved break, but once he got paid of course.

The Concord Spear ascended back up into the atmosphere, leaving the conflict behind him as it appeared to dwindle in space. The Empire was crushing their forces, and rightfully so. There was a reason such an individual would partner himself up with a dangerous if not oppressive force. They always had enemies, always had credits, and they always relied on Koda Fett to get the job done. He returned to the one of the Star Destroyers, in truth he didn't know which one, all he knew is that it was blinking on his control panel from the cockpit.

The Firespray made it's way underneath, and then back up again as it entered the hangar bay. The starship rotated onto it's back in which it would slowly descend before clamping down. The man behind the helmet grabbed his carbine, slinging it over his shoulder and departing the cockpit - as he did - he pressed on a button that would cause the door to open with a swoosh and the ramp to lower, hissing as steam-like gas shot out from the joints. Might be time for a repair. Immediately, he was met by two columns of Storm Troopers on either side of the ramp, whoever came to deliver his payment was of some importance. Hopefully they weren't too interested in a conversation.

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

The infiltration in had been a success. A trial of bodies so far the only clues to Inferno’s presence so deep into the apparent fortress of the Warrior King, each who had come before the Special Forces team had so far been silently removed from their watch and as the radio signals began to come through Imperial channels that the Imperial Army had managed to breach the fortresses main entrance and were currently advancing into the vast enclosed palace innards.

It was now that the true skill of Inferno would be tested. The area ahead of them was what had been briefed to them as the throne of the false king, a place heavily guarded by the personal guard who had dubbed themselves the Red Skulls. It would be within this marble encrusted surrounds that with one fell stroke the Empire would end this false lords reign and bring Order and Imperial rule to Zenith Prime.

“Door breach in…” The words came through the electronic systems of their helmets as the team, four in number took either side of the sealed corridor access. Beric, his hands full of detonators went to work setting the charge onto the door with professional swiftness. “Three…Two…” Beric took his position behind Kayrce yet again, the soft feeling of his his hand against her shoulder indicating that he was where he needed to be. “One.”

BOOM!

The door flew inwards and Inferno were through before the smoke had even settled, their helmets allowing instant focus on the enemies around the room through the chaos that had followed their arrival.
Kayrce downed two and counted another three, each receiving bolts from her blaster before the Red Skulls started to return fire. Between her own attack and the others in the unit they had removed fifteen to twenty of the enemy forces who had scattered to cover, clearly under the impression that a full invasion was happening to them.

“Agents.” Kayrce spoke as the entire team advanced as far as they could, unleashing death upon their enemies as they moved. “Identify the target, move to eliminate.”

“Copy that.”

Again the team continued to move, despite the increasing amount of fire now being returned their way. Yet it was enough to give them the position they needed to continue the removal of the enemy forces with simple and effective shots. “We’ve got a runner. On the stairs.”

Briana had made the call that made all the agents look up at the great stairs on the far side of the room, the elaborate armour and cloth of the Warrior King clearly visible amongst the drab attire of his guard. He was making his way upwards, away from the carnage. The great warrior nothing more then a coward.

“Agents, advance. If you get a shot you take it.” Kayrce ordered before assuring her channel opened up towards all Imperial channels that were relevant to their mission. “Target has been identified. Inferno in pursuit.”

The team picked up the pace.

 

[Aram Kalast]

Aram made his way through the corridors of the ship, at his beck and heel were two columns of stormtroopers, all in brilliant Imperial glory. He had already been made aware of the Imperial Forces success in storming the palace and Inferno’s present pursuit of a now broken King. Yet he had removed himself from the briefing room the moment this call was made. The Warrior-King’s fate was sealed, Inferno would remove his life as if he had never truly owned it, the planet’s mercenary gangs and pathetic armies would bow down beneath Imperial banners the moment they receive the news. For now he had other more important matters, one of which had just landed in the hanger.

“Bounty Hunter.” Aram would announce as he appeared from behind his escort to face the armoured being. “You’ve done the Empire well, your loyalty will be rewarded.” From the group a large crate was hovered towards the hunter’s ship. “Triple your initial payment, along with several other items usually deemed inappropriate for civilian use.” He also handed the hunter a datapad. “Consider it a downpayment for your future. We have need of someone with your talents, and are willing to retain your services.”

He paused allowing consideration, yet did not wait for conversation. “We have received intelligence that their has been an incident on Mirial. Some sort of weapon, a weapon unleashed by the Jedi.” He began to turn. “Find out what you can. Eliminate any others who block your investigation. The Sith want answers as well, I would pay you well to avoid drawing connections between yourself and the Empire in this matter. However, anything you do discover about the identity of the user may be shared with the Sith Empire at your leisure for your additional profit.” Aram fully turned and headed away from the Hunter and the troopers, before turning his head back towards Koda. “Good luck hunter, we will be in touch.”

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Zenith Prime - Orbit​

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The Mandalorian Armored Bounty Hunter stood near the base of the ramp, maintaining some elevation on the near unmoving two rows of Stormtroopers. Though then with his Carbine held in his grip, across his body and slung, he released the grip on it with his right hand, holding it just by the barrel as it hang down by his side now. He stuck out like a sore thumb, as did his ship, the Green, Red and Tannish Gray on each of them coming into contrast with the Galactic Empire's black and white pallet. His eyes shifted to Aram Kalast beneath his helmet, his helmet slowly catching up with the shift in his gaze as it turned to track his movements. Nothing was said, but he heard everything he needed to and more, for a brief moment his attention was diverted to the new piece of mystery technology he was being rewarded with was loaded into his cargo space by a series of Navy Crewmen. The datapad was offered to him, and of course he took it, heeding each word before Kalast turned away, "As you wish." He replied simply, making his way back up the ramp and inside the Concord Spear, Imperial Crewmen passing him as he did so.

Already he devised a series of plans to get this job completed. Of course Mirial is the first stop, witnessing the damage done by this 'weapon' to determine what it may very well be, and then a Jedi themselves would need to be captured, interrogated, or even tortured if need be. Then and only then would the details be revealed to him. Though he was certainly going to get it done, for Koda Fett always go this mark. Inside the cockpit of the Firespray Starship a series of buttons were pressed, pulled, twisted and so on in order to get the Concord Spear off of the ground, and out of the hangar. Doing so with the whir of it's engines roaring about. He floated in space for a brief moment, setting a course to Mirial...

 

[Varik Ice]

Varik Ice​

Equipment: Lightsaber - Initiate Robes​

Location: Zenith Prime​

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Whatever had been firing at Varik, it had stopped for now; communications told him that some large gun had been firing, but now seemed to have stopped. Whether it had been taken over, the operator eliminated or simply run out of ammo didn't matter that much now. Moving up to a more vertical position, Ice signalled to some of his stormtroopers to initiate a manouver around their right flank, indicating for the rest of the force to follow him. Pointing his lightsaber forward, he let out a war cry that was soon joined by those from his soldiers as they charged forward, assaulting enemy positions on the run-up to the palace. Casualties had been heavy throughout, especially here; the ones guarding the palace were some of the King's best men.

As his Stormtroopers charged forward, he saw the attention of the enemy shift to the others suddenly flanking them. Sensing the opportunity, Ice leaped forward with his use of the force, landing right in a repeating blaster nest. Swinging his saber with controlled precision, he bisected the gunner, taking his ammo bearer's head off of his shoulders and finally plunged his blade into the heart of an unlucky soldier who so happened to be there. Deflecting bolts that now aimed towards him with flourishing moves from his red blade, Ice bought time until his troopers began charging over the enemy cover from their flank and front, overwhelming their forces.

The move hadn't been complex - it had simply taken advantage of carelessness on the enemy's end. The skirmish had turned into a full-on slaughter, with Stormtroopers rapidly overwhelming positions of cover and firing at those soldiers who tried to flee, cutting them down with blaster fire. Though Varik's force had suffered losses, they were now able to push much closer to the palace; they had cut a large opening for other forces to move through the enemy's line, as well.

Anya Malvern | Aram Kalast | DT-2417 | Desmond C'artyom | Scipio Alta | Luyioth Dakwin

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

“He’s making for the shuttle pad.” Rhun basically screamed down his helmet communicator as Inferno, now in full run pursued the Warrior King down the corridor he had managed to flee into. They had found minimal resistance other then the odd guard who was sent their way as a means to stop the Imperial team’s advance.

“Agents cut right.” Kayrce ordered as they moved by a second corridor that moved off like a fork towards the area where the landing pads should be. The three agents departed leaving Kayrce to continue running after the Warrior King alone and alone did she face him.

Her first indication of the trap came when the large blunt instrument connected with her helmet. The fierce hit sending her to the floor with a solid thump, the murderous eyes of a frenzied Garkur towering over her. “You foul Imperial scum.” His moment of hesitation would be his downfall, Kayrce swinging her leg to the side and connected hard with Garkur’s knee causing him to slip down in pain.

This gave Kayrce the time to stand, her fist swinging in to connect with the Neimodian’s head which knocked the warrior king back and too the floor, the Imperial agent throwing herself upon him as an explosion hit the side of the corridor they were currently in.

A furious collection of blows came from both the Imperial and the Warlord, the scuffle seeing both win out and loose to the other as rubble began to fall around the pair. Kayrce had managed to withdraw her vibroknife in the last push-off from Garkur. Already she tasting blood in her mouth from numerous blows against her, but as she drew a large cut across the Warrior Kings face she felt a renewed sense of purpose.

“You damn Imperials, always sticking your noses where they do not belong.” Garkur wailed as he flung himself back in her direction, his fists closing around her neck. “…and now I will show you and your Emperor what happens to those who meddle in my affairs.”

She could feel the blackness taking over, her airflow closing off beneath those clawed fingers. All she could think of was the need to survive, the need to keep fighting, fingers trembled as they reached for something, for anything that would allow her to keep going.

Something met her fingers and without judgment she swung up towards Garkur’s head. She felt the connection, the warmth spread across her fingers and the sudden release of his grip against her neck. Cold air returned to her lungs and her entire form rolled sidewards to allow for the coughing fit that was her body trying to regain what it needed to survive.

As she collapsed onto her back, she would hear the sounds of her team running into the corridor, voices far off, Garkur lying not far from her own beaten body. Yet as she lay there looking at the cracked marble ceiling, with its great fissures of sunlight breaking through she basked in the moment.

The Warrior-King was dead.

The Imperial Forces would have the fortress locked down within the hour and Zenith Prime was now in the hands of the Third Galactic Empire!