Dominion Too Greedy, Too Deep | DE Dominion of Shu-Torun

[DARKNOR]

Civil War erupts! The volcanic mining planet of Shu-Torun, long run by a group of wealthy industrialists known as ore-dukes, has recently reached a boiling point regarding the recent economic decree of the Dark Empire. While some of these ore-dukes have been entertaining the idea of bringing themselves into the embrace of the Empire, others feel that their very way of life is at risk. This has caused lines to be drawn, and skirmishes to erupt throughout the resource-rich planet.

Both the Loyalists ruling along with the Monarchy, and the Separatists who wish to remain a neutral system vie for control of Shu-Torun. The Empire sees it as an opportunity to suppress any rebellion securing both allies and resources to fuel the Imperial War Machine.

Objective 1: Black Waltz

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In the Royal Palace of Shu-Torun lies the intricate rituals played out in the Abyssal Rooms, underground beneath the Palace. Grand balls are held while the patrons feast, drink. The waltz is more of a political maneuver than a social custom. While some dance, many argue on who to side with delegations between the rival Ore Dukes. Tensions run high throughout the course of the ball, neither side able to sway the other.

The Empire dispatches a delegation to confront the royal family, engaging in talks while attending the ball. The Imperials can only hope to persuade the Monarchs into giving the Empire access to the vital materials Shu-Torun has to offer. Unaware that the rival ore dukes plot to take over the entire ball, and attempt to sabotage negotiations in an attempt to overthrow the King and wrestle Imperial support away. Attend the Ball, secure the support of the throne and stop the rival Ore Dukes plot for control of the nobility.

Objective 2: The Climb​

At the Spires, home of the Ore Dukes that have sided against the Empire are dug in deep. Imperial forces backed by the Ore Loyalists head in for an assault towards the looming spires. Facing the odds of hostile terrain, volcanic lava and the gasses that come with them, and mining drills repurposed to fight against the heavy armor of the Imperial military.

Reinforcements are sent to aid the assault against the Spires, while another group of Imperials infiltrate behind enemy lines to make a treacherous climb to the top of the Spires in order to end the battle quickly and apprehend the traitorous Ore Dukes.




BYOO: Explore the mysteries of the Imperial Retreat, or uncover the strange gravitational anomalies emerging from the Spike.

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Base of the Spire (Behind Enemy Lines)
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

Quaint was the edifices known as the Spires, erected with a detail precision from an artistic eye, and storied with a height fit to touch the hands of Gods. Each Spire, a doppelganger by architectural design, was employed to house the rare materials harvested from the lava-like planet for exportation, to fill the flowing coffers of the ore-dukes. Each Spire, a darkened emblazoned monolith, stood as defiant giants overlooking the flowing magna like guardians, whilst adding a systematic shadow that fell like a veil over the eyes of the planet; a testament to the corruption of the ore-dukes.

Quaint was the belief of these mongrels, these ore-dukes, that this collection of Spires would behold for all time a source of monetary advancements; fanatical and foolish was such thinking. Believed untouchable, the Spires were poorly supplied militarily, left to be plucked like carrion by hungry and stalking predators, the innards devoured for their nutritious value.

And it was quaint in the rationalization from these pompous, bloating ore-dukes that they would, as most believed, live as immortalized Gods; that they, like the hovering Spires, were untouchable.

But soon: even the Gods themselves would learn the harshness of truths that even the flesh of Gods could be stripped from bone; and thus, become a meal for more ambitious vultures.

​

As if the mouth of Hades, himself, opened up and spewed forth the turmoil of heat and fire from a caustic exhalation of breath, that the area we stood upon, prepped and spawned to bring havoc to those that unknowingly would be our buffet of homicidal pleasures, had been rained down upon with a miserable change in seasonal weather. Temperatures spoke incantations to a demonic spawn from the pits of the Unknown, begging in their pleas to cook the living into charred remains of the dead; and it was as such that I ordered the tinker soldier boys to strip down their armor, and to fight bravely in the bare minimal necessities, less they die from the heat in a fashion not befitting a story to be spoken in a circle of friends with drinks in hand.

I, the embodiment of the undead, was not cuffed and subjugated to the whimsical principles bestowed by the jester of evolution the living had been forced to suffer and endure. However, it was the fire that errored me to caution; for even the undead, like a vampire, has its vices to contend too. Why such a creature, whose main enemy is an element capable of fiery dispositions, elect to lead a behind-the-scenes attack on the enemy over enjoying the luxurious fortunes of conversations and mingling at the Palace where a gala was to be held? Did said creature seek self-immolation to a God that had looked down upon her as daughter, perhaps a bride to share immortality within the afterlife? No, it was simple: I love the indulgence of murder, whilst I hate being indulged in repetitious conversations.

And so, as we slowly crept up the hill like maggots in pursuit of bountiful tissues of festering flesh, the dawn of a new era for Shu-Torun was on the cusp of enlightenment: no longer would the ore-dukes infect the planet with their queer and quaint ideologies. No longer would the ore-dukes live behind guises of a quaint belief they were deathless as the Gods themselves. No longer would the ore-dukes, for all their wealth and greed, live to endure the quaint monetary system they built on the backs of the paupers. For what crept up that hill, that lead maggot in front, was not female, not a living embodiment, nor a phantom fabricated in the minds of the fearful: but Death itself.

 

[Saa Montemar]

Montemar's face, marked by the gentle creases of age, bore the weight of experience surveyed the Grand Ballroom of Shu-Torun as the delegations assembled to discuss the discontent of the treacherous ore-dukes who were rather displeased with the economic strategy outlined by the Dark Empire in order to curtail the explotiation and abuses of its citizens by megacorporations and warprofiteers.

He occupied a modest position within the Imperial Treasury Department, and thus would provide guidance and advice to the Imperial delegation in order to persuade the Royal Family that submission would allow them to have a degree of protection from hostile economic powers such as the Galactic Alliance.

Even if such an avenue for diplomacy failed, there were others in attendance that would be more than willing to side with them among the lower strata of the elite such as Lord Velin Thotyrn, a corpulent individual dressed in garments resplendent with bronze and gold, who approached with an air of assured elegance.

"Your Lordship, a splendid evening indeed," Montemar began, in a calm tone of voice.

"Ah, Saa Montemar!" Velin Thotryn exclaimed, his boisterous laugh vibrating through the air like the distant rumble of machinery. "Come, tell me, how fares the Imperial treasury in these uncertain times? I can assure you, the mines are running at full swing despite the rumblings of the ore-dukes, and the riches of Shu-Torun are as abundant as ever." His jowly face brightened, eager to boast of his homeworld's wealth.

Montemar leaned slightly closer, his expression turning more serious. "It is the fluctuations in demand that concern me, dear Lord. While your holdings yield treasure, the market—" he paused, ensuring his tone remained cordial—"can indeed be a treacherous beast. Perhaps we could discuss strategies over a glass of your finest local vintage?" A knowing smile danced upon his lips as he gestured towards the banquet table, his mind already racing ahead, calculating alliances amid the music and merriment.

 

[Domaric Mordane]

The operations center hummed with tension as Allegiant General Domaric Mordane stood before the tactical holomap, his black-clad form casting a shadow over the glowing projections of the Spires. The volcanic terrain loomed on the display, its jagged cliffs and deadly lava flows making the stronghold a fortress even before considering the defenses of the Ore Dukes. Mordane's helmet rested on the console beside him, revealing a stern face lined with experience and purpose.

The air in the room was thick with urgency. Officers moved briskly between consoles, reporting coordinates and preparing the final logistics for the assault. Stormtrooper commanders, their black armor mirroring Mordane's, stood at attention in the far corners of the chamber, awaiting their orders. Each one represented a battalion, a hammer poised to strike the rebellious Ore Dukes.

Mordane's cold gaze swept across the holomap as he reviewed the stratagem. The FD-874/3.0 troop transports hovered in holding formations above the base, their engines thrumming with readiness. Each transport, a marvel of Imperial engineering, was capable of delivering entire platoons with precision even under the most hostile conditions. This would be the Stormtrooper Corps' first large-scale deployment since its reform—an opportunity to demonstrate its rebirth as the Empire's uncompromising fist.

"My lord, all units are standing by," reported Major Vrandis, one of Mordane's senior aides.

Mordane nodded but remained silent for a moment, his attention drawn to the display of enemy defenses. The Spires' hostile terrain and repurposed mining drills would complicate the approach, but that mattered little to him. The Stormtrooper Corps had been trained for exactly this: rough insertions into hostile territory, fighting through environments that would break lesser soldiers.

He turned to the assembled officers, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "The Ore Dukes think they can defy the Empire because they've hidden themselves in a fortress carved from stone and fire. But no fortress is impervious to our will. Our brave Stormtroopers will descend upon them like the wrath of the Emperor himself. And when this day is done, the Spires will stand as a testament to the futility of rebellion. Empire First!"

"Always First!" came the reply before the officers exchanged resolute nods as they dispersed to relay the final orders.

Turning back to the holomap, Mordane rested his hands on the console and studied the operation one last time. Every variable, every detail, was scrutinized. His own experience told him that battles were not won by strength alone but by precision, preparation, and unrelenting resolve. He knew the stakes. This was not merely a battle—it was a demonstration of Imperial dominance under the Warlord's command.

"Ensure the transports are fully prepped," Mordane said to Major Vrandis, his voice calm but firm. "When the order comes, I want no delays. Victory waits for no man."

The major saluted sharply before departing, leaving Mordane alone with his thoughts and the looming holographic spires. The general's expression remained stoic, but within, his resolve burned as hot as the lava flows beneath the battlefield. The time was near, and he would show the galaxy that even in the most hostile terrain, the Empire's power was absolute.

Marlon Sularen | Moff Evner Braxiatel | @Imperial Warposters​

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Too Greedy, Too Deep

Location: Base of the Spire (Behind Enemy Lines)
Objective: The Climb
Gear: Outfit I Lightsabers I Talisman I Ring
Tags: Open​

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -
​

The stench of the incursion fumigated the air, the smokey residue wafting in great plumes of smoke from the discharged energy blasters, floating like magical ghosts over the strewn bodies from the hillclimbers; whilst above, raining down with their defensive bombardment came the counters from an entrenched makeshift military attachment. The high-grounded enemy were fewer in number than those making the treacherous trek upward through a rocky, jagged, and unforgiving terrain, but they held the advantage; at times stalling the advancement.

Bodies of fallen comrades laid in awkward angles, broken forms with visages of horror-stricken images painted upon faces as if done by an amateur painter, sloppy and with the misuse of color schemes, greeted their predecessors who, too, were feeling the pains of a strangled advancement. Slowly they moved toward the gleaming goal, those darkened Spires that looked down on the charging enemy with grinning smiles and daring eyes.

Slowly they began to reach the cusp of the plateau, where the numbers would turn the battle in favor of the invading hoards....

​

My cold, calculating vampiric eyes took in the ghastly scene, turning into a more defined golden hue, whilst I searched about for a way to turn the tide in our collective favor. Soldiers, I have learned through experience fighting alongside them, are only as tough until that first blaster bolt zips by their head; then, unfortunately, that inbred D.N.A. that so despicably dominates their being rises up, resorting them to a natural mode of survival, or what I call cowardice. Even through my barks and vicious taunts to murder them myself, they opted to fight from cover, thus pitting us in a peculiar position I absolutely loathed.

If the living would not fight to expel the enemy, then the dead surely will. I leapt onto a solid, grey rock with spider-vein like cracks, landing with a grace worthy of applause by my dead audience, extending my hands out before me. Very few understand the difference between commanding the Force and spinning a dark Sith spell; the latter requiring concentration, and in some pertinent situations, speaking in tongues. Drawing on the darker aspects of the Force as I wove the words to the spell, Tsaiwinokka Hoyakut, as a spider weaves her ensnaring web, I called forth the dead to rise and obey me.

One by one, the splintered bodies of the dead began to stir and rise around me. The horrific scenery was one of beauty, a gothic tale of the ages. Both the eyes of the enemy and those of my allies could not fathom this occurrence, this phantasmical nightmare awakening into a reality, whilst the shamblers of the undead howled in a cacophony-like orchestra. Then all went eerily silent, and I stood, the self-proclaimed Queen of the Undead, in the center of my court; and with one flick off my finger: sent forth the dead abominations into the ranks of the frightened enemy.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P
Objective II : Climb

DARK EMPIRE
SHU-TORUN, MID RIM

Once more the Empire was on the move. With the successful incorporation of Corsin and the implementation of a Naval blockade of the Hydian Way, the Empire had now set it's sights on the resource-rich mining world of Shu-Torun hoping to make use of it's resources to further fuel it's war machine. However when faced with the restoration of Imperial rule on their world, Shu-Torun collapsed into Civil War with separatist ore-dukes taking up against the Monarchy and Loyalist ore-dukes who both had made the decision to side with the Empire having not forgotten the benefits that they would enjoy under Imperial rule once more.

As such, it was up to Warlord Sularen to lead the Imperial Military's response against the rebellious ore-dukes with the Imperial Warlord leading a considerable Imperial task force to relieve the besieged loyalist ore-dukes and take the fight to the separatists in order to bring the planet under Imperial rule once and for all. Despite the victory at Tython and the Hydian Way blockade there were many who still thought the Empire as weak and vulnerable and it was now time that the Empire demonstrate it's strength once more to remind the galaxy that it's days were far from numbered.

Above the vast lava oceans of Shu-Torun, Sularen's fleet had engaged the aerial and naval forces of the rebellious ore-dukes who were able to put up serious resistance to the Warlord's own naval forces. In addition to the regular arsenal that the ore-dukes had at their disposal such as their fortified delving citadels and their lava leviathans, they had managed to get their hands on Imperial equipment left behind by the Old Empire after it's collapse allowing them to contest the Imperial intervention and put up a good fight. Despite this the Empire pushed forward, determined to restore order to the planet by any means necessary.

From the bridge of his flagship, Sularen observed the battle raging as his fleet continued to fight off the repeated attacks from swarms of TIEs, Uglies and other open-market snub-fighters fielded by the rebellious ore-dukes. As the battle progressed, the treacherous ore-dukes finally threw in what was supposed to be their ace card : a trio of lava leviathans, that emerged from the vast oceans of molten rock and began to attack the Imperial fleet above them in a desperate attempt to take out some of the Warlord's warships and repel the imperial attack. As the bridge of his flagship shook as it came under fire from the enemy Leviathans, Sularen smirked knowing well of the fate that awaited those Lava Leviathans.

No matter how much resistance the rebellious ore-dukes put up they were only delaying their inevitable defeat at the hands of the the Imperial Warlord and the mighty military forces of the Dark Empire, which would only further convey a message to both Shu-Torun and the rest of the galaxy : That none could withstand the Imperial hand of judgement.

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Sid Berik | Moff Evner Braxiatel | Darth Moskvin ​

 

[Sid Berik]

STEEL YOURSELF
​

T O O_G R E E D Y_T O O_D E E P
Objective II : Climb

DARK EMPIRE
SHU-TORUN, MID RIM


The march to the drop pods was a quiet affair.

Some men prayed.

Some men steeled themselves.

Corporal Berik knew only one thing for certain: that he was going to be on that planet.

It was not a new method of inserting oneself into a warzone, but a dangerous one. Hundreds of the more elite of the Stormtrooper Corps, hardened veterans, readied themselves as they secured themselves into the drop pod. Sid had been placed in charge of a squad now, 14 men, not including himself. He walked along his men's drop pods, ensuring that they were all secured in their pods, gear and comms checked. It was a short drop- barely a minute to the surface, but with the streaking fire, and possibility of deviation from their planned drop site, well.

He wanted to be sure.

He stood in the middle of the drop pod bay, his heavy boots clanging along, his gray recon armor with the red stripe on his shoulder marking him as an NCO making him stand out- even from the similarly colored Stormtrooper armors.

"Gentlemen we will be dropping into a hostile territory and immediately will be in combat. There will be no respite, there will be confusion at the drop site. Do not fail me, do not fail the Empire, and do not fail yourselves."

He clicked on his helmet, tightening the seals. His helmet had a curious visage painted on the back- five letters. Naomi. He turned his back to his troops, settling into the pod, locking himself in. He took a deep breath, and waited for the red lights that darkened the bay to switch to yellow. Sure enough, they did- and the drop pods moved into launch positions. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

The lights turned green. And one by one- the pods launched from the ships above the planet- and the Empire's will, the fingers of death tightened their grip around the planet. It was a terrifying visage for those on the ground- dozens of pods streaking across the sky, beyond their defenses, blurring faster than they could muster a defense. And filled with elite, battle-hardened veterans.

Inside the pod, the heat was intense, even with the shielding and heat disbursement technology. He sweat underneath his helmet, waiting for the jump-jets to activate to slow their descent enough. He looked at the status screens inside.

Thirty seconds to drop.

Twenty seconds.

Ten seconds.....

​