Truculent [SOV Dominion of Orenda]

[Bast'rom'arosti]

Objective 3: Lead the Wayward Flock | Schiama Clan Territory, Orenda​

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With: [member="Amadi the Banished"]​

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Diplomacy hardly seemed a played a large factor in Saorsa culture. Headbutting and shouting the loudest seemed to be the deciding factors of leadership, disregarding the areas of motivation, emotional intelligence, and a high propensity for patience. Tobias barely considered himself well versed in such areas but knew just enough to operate off of, or at least make it seem like he was more quasi-intellectual than the rest. A cold, composed demeanor tended to have that effect on most sentient beings. They were afraid of the quiet, because they listened far more - and when they spoke, were listened to even more than that.

Just the way he liked it.

The operative followed his newest companion past the throes of vibrant war-banners, chain-mailed warriors and seemingly civilian spectators as they headed towards their arena of words. A modest tent, if anything, seemed far less interesting on the exterior than within. The gilded spoils of war littered the inside, with trophy war banners and golden arms laid about. Tobias assumed these were what made first impressions that much more intimidating.

He slid into the massive chair, his posture remaining parade ground perfect.

"The Sovereignty is here for victory. Nothing more, nothing less." Tobias raised a hand to rub at the stubble growing about his chin, letting his eyes wander across the spoils. "Something I assume the Schiama are well acquainted with."

 

[Cynan Hague]

(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

A stroke of luck was given in most AECO operations, the unit famed for unorthodox and often suicidal action relied on more than on a little of it. Fate it would seem, was of a fickle nature perhaps Cynan had done something to provoke its ire? First, their charge had a premature detonation, almost taking Runali entirely out of the fight, then the Miners had taken the positions they so desperately wanted for themselves. Finally, the Saorsa, the very individuals they were hoping to escape the oncoming wrath of, had arrived. A sinking pit formed in Cynan's stomach, he had no idea about the woman currently barreling down upon them, but something inside of him did.

The silenced rifle held tightly by Cynan's white knuckles truly became silent, the more of the Miners slowly being pushed back as they take the foundry, it was after all an excellent tactical position. The last few Miners in close proximity was felled as Cynan's magazine ran dry, his squad was now afforded but a sliver of breathing room, ignoring the slog still head of them. He had but a moment of respite before the growing anxiety in his gut grew, catching him off guard if for a moment, this was the third time now such a strange sensation had overtaken him. Perhaps he had come down with something?

There wasn't much time to ponder, as before much of any action could be taken, a crazed-looking Saorsa entered the building opposite the squad, Cynan's instincts kicked in before his mind had a chance to temper them, in a single flourish his carbine hit the ground and his sidearm was swung about and held in a firm isosceles grip, bore down at whoever, whatever this intruder in his new realm was. Sekhmet had entered exactly where the Squad had expected a counter-attack from above, rifles trained on her in a second, though it was soon enough obvious of her alignment. There were two possibilities, she'd kill them as the offworlders they are, or her senses would rule the day. Cynan's gaze met her own, that blank look in the midst of battle, he recognized it in the truest sense, more than few others can match. The look on her face matched that of his element, the blinding mind-numbing heat of battle.

A few ideas came to mind, but one was dominant over all others. His Squad kept rifles trained, ready to defend themselves should this savage prove to be little more than a crazed barbarian, Cynan simply shouted at her "Stand down we're Sovereignty!"

Lady luck, he hoped, would show mercy.

 

[Zedd Harkor]

Lord Admiral Zedd Harkor​

Royal Chambers, Citadel, Eadu​

Objective: 2​

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:: Destination arrived: Orenda. Exiting Hyperspace. ::

It was a mechanized voice that reverberated through the holo-transceiver of Commodore Alisha Gisk that signaled the task force would exit hyperspace, having met their destination.

“Lord Admiral. We’ve exited hyperspace.”

“What about the Miner Fleet?”, inquired Zedd.

“We’re still calculating an approximate metric distance. The Miner Fleet is in sight of our sensors.”

“Mobilize ships to engage.”, ordered Zedd.

It was unusual for Harkor to be so far from the battlefield. He was sitting at a chair from several star systems away, barking orders. If he were younger, he would've thought a situation like this would appear to be so far away, never to happen. Yet, here he was. He knew he had the tendency to come off as an overly assertive personality at times; a fault of his. Lord Admiral Harkor pondered over this especially, as he began to wonder if it was disrespectful to tell someone of Commodore's Gisk's experience how to do their job. It was a particularly rare position of power that he knew he would need to get used to.

"800 Kilometers out, Lord Admiral.", informed Gisk, as Zedd pondered over his personal tendencies.

"Reading you loud and clear, Commodore. Continue, as ordered.", responded Zedd, in standardized military jargon, as he continued to ponder.

"700, 600. Divert power to weapons systems.", counted down Gisk, as they neared the optimal range to engage the Miner Fleet. To their credit, they were unflinching. Even as a significantly larger force, such as the Sovereignty Navy, came barreling their way.

"500."

"Open fire, Commodore.", finalized Harkor, verbally dealing what would be the first blow to the Miner Fleet.

"Already done, sir.", responded back the Commodore, as the stars above Orenda erupted in a violent display of turbolasers and missile fire.

 

[Cassus Stoma]

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(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

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The audible cacophony of a battle had reached his ears whilst the bright lights of the Mining Compound or Facility even was visible within the distance. It was a harsh terrain but through the usage of a speeder had it made the venture all the more viable. Perhaps without he may simply be dead, killed by a carnivorous predator or maybe Cassus would remain continue to wander aimlessly in desperation. Accompanying the attack was the thunderous applause of the Saorsa, their eyes filled with fiery anger as they glowed across the plains. Whatever came next was certainly something.

Cassus couldn't quite say his head was in the right place as he raced across the plains drawing ever closer to the facility. A bright light, a beam or a bolt as one would call it headed in his direction. Instead of being feared or avoided it was instead looked upon with distracted eyes. For some strange reason or another his mind hadn't quite clicked with what it was until it appeared to be too late. The red streak of energy slicing across the bottom of the one man speeder.

The AECO moved his hands about on what would once steer the craft, finding that it in fact would not turn. So of course he naturally thought that perhaps he would slow the craft down, disembark and continue his adventure upon foot. Yet it was a pointless attempt, it wouldn't slow down but it had certainly began to descend towards the ground - slowly, yet surely. A certain degree of panic formed within him, but there wasn't time for that, he still had to get off of this thing without dying.

It was behind Cynan and his Squad that Cassus came screaming in, not quite literally, but the speeder whined all the same. A spine tingling sound was formed once the speeder collided with the ground, scraping across it as sparks flew and the metal twisted. Cassus barely managed to keep his feet off of the ground, ultimately diving off of it and rolling a considerable distance in accordance with the grunts and groans of an, "Ooft!", "Ah!", "Ungh!" And so on. The young man wasn't known for his entrances, yet this was certainly one to remember.

[member="Cynan Hague"]

 

[Lemon]

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(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

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The Mandalorian merely offered a nod in response, it wasn't much but it was enough. Afterwards, it was safe to say that he hadn't paid much attention to the discussion and instead upon the man he would soon be handing over to the brutally barbaric Saorsa which would most likely tear him to shreds. Yet it hadn't bothered Fett, truly. As long as he was paid, he would get it done. Fett's list of things he would not pursue was short, and only consisted of low-paying bounties and children. Other than, everyone and everything was fair game.

The forces began to mobilize - both Saorsa and Sovereignty. They charged in, firing upon the defenses as they fired back. Yet why run when one could fly? It was a question that was easy to answer, and primarily rhetorical. The Bounty Hunter ascended upwards as flames projected out of the bottom of his commonly used piece of technology. He would strafe throughout the air, firing upon the defenses that, when once destroyed, would allow him to pass.

On his own volition had he remained towards the back of the group so-to-speak. They could take the brunt of the damage, this was their war not his and as a result they could die for it. At the end of the day Koda Fett was only bounty hunter scum, and as it was once said, nobody needs them. Though in actuality, they were wrong - everyone needs a Bounty Hunter.

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[Amadi the Bansihed]

Story post

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Schiama Clan territory, Orenda, Chrysos system, Wild Space.
Objective 3: Lead the wayward flock.
Interacting with: [member="Tobias Zieba"].​

Amused, or perhaps something more complicated, the apparent noble let out a brief, quiet laugh.
"You might say that," the Saorsi mused, casting a glance to the spoils himself as he continued: "although the Schiama method is more much more... Saorsi." Reaching over, the Saorsi whisked up a skull from the top of his stone-slab desk, taking a moment to admire it. "Did you know that most Saorsi chieftains die from murder, followed by poisoning?" he asked, flicking off an odd bit of dirt from the skull with his thumb.

"I'll spell this out so that we're entirely clear. The current chieftain has no interest in helping the Sovereignty where I do. It so happens that I'm the next in line to inherit the position. If you want Schiama to support the Sovereignty? Kill the chieftain and leave some of your men with me here. By the time my son takes my seat, the clan will be steady."

 

[Bast'rom'arosti]

Objective 3: Lead the Wayward Flock | Schiama Clan Territory, Orenda​

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With: [member="Amadi the Banished"]​

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Grey eyes lingered on the skull, watching as the heir apparent to this tribe admired its grotesque beauty.

"I'm quite aware," Tobias interjected. The briefing and intelligence reports on the various tribes here had been rather thorough. Some first-hand accounts gave astoundingly accurate and reliable information when offered a smidgen of credits, or the chance to serve a cause far greater than any they'd experienced. Schiama culture reminded him of Anzati, save for all of the infighting and loud bickering that took place - their methods for resolving such things especially so.

Deep within the agent, he felt something peculiar growing in the pit of his stomach. A lingering hunger that only hastened the more Tobias focused on the Saorsa sitting across from him. His essence was far more tantalizing than the rest of the mobs outside, perhaps owing itself to his superior intellect. Be that as it may, Tobias was already expecting great things of this Chieftain of theirs.

"Take me to him."

 

[Varik Ice]

Varik Ice​

Equipment: Lightsaber - Armour​

Location: Orenda​

Objective: 1​

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Leaving the security room to the chaos outside, Varik passed through the mobs of Saorsa fighting and clawing for their freedom as though he was simply walking through a forest with a few trees. Some warriors were gently moved aside, with surprising strength for a human, at least to most natives of Orenda. As he reached the main courtyard of the fortress, Varik stared up at the top of the administrative building's top tower. With a scowl beneath his helmet, the Sovereign suddenly leaped up, almost seeming to fly through the air while his arm extended and palm opened. The window of the tower smashed open before Varik even hit it, and he landed on the crunching glass.

It looked like a proper control room, overseeing everything. So why hadn't they disabled it, unless they went through the escape tunnels? As he moved to investigate, figures caught his eye. Four of them in dark robes, with masked helmets covering their visages. Special security, perhaps. At least, he thought that; until 4 glowing red blades ignited, the four figures beginning to circle around the room, and him as well. This was...not expected.

Varik's lightsaber continued to shine a sable white as he glanced between the four, not making a move. There was silence as they kept their stances, all using orthodox lightsaber forms. "Well?"

With the loss of the silence, everything went off. All four charged at once, and Varik was suddenly on the move, and the back foot. As swings came high, low, mid zones, all at the same time. He used his lightsaber to parry blows while still having to move, duck and sidestep more stabs and slashes that came towards him. He was on the defensive, now looping around the room as he was backed up towards the now smashed open window. It was then that one of his opponents had a great idea.

Swelling the force within herself, the only female figure pushed her hand out as Varik had; locked into a battle of strength through their sabers with another assailant, he diverted, yanking his opponent into his comrade's path while the Sovereign began a turning swing. The would-be assassin was suddenly pushed out the open window, the tip of Varik's saber catching the small of his back and slicing into it, enough to seriously wound. Varik had no doubts he would live; these force users were experienced enough. As the remaining three took their stances again, beginning to wane in stamina, Varik spoke aloud into his communicator defiantly.

"Someone just fell into the courtyard. Take him alive." The Sovereignty would have its answers for this. No mining corporation had a squad of Sith on hand.

[member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Itash Mecetti"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Saul Ferasi"]

 

[Lemon]

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(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

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The Bounty Hunter hovered above the newly christened warzone via his jetpack - and with it he was able to avoid many of the defenses. It wasn't often that when a horde charges you, you look up. It was at the highest point, or the one that seemed to be, that Fett had landed. The flames vanishing as a thud came from his metallic boots colliding with the roofing. Keen eyes surveyed the area in search for a specific individual; Bendak Norrg, the one the Saorsa wanted alive. The mere thought of what they would do to him caused sympathy to be bestowed from Fett to Norrg. He wasn't a sympathetic man, and he knew that Norrg was going to get what he deserved, but the lingering thought of being torn apart by savages was something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.

However, the thought quickly subsided as the sight of the large man came into view. He wasn't a large man in stature, muscular build or what would commonly be associated in a situation like this. No, he was a fat-cat, the head of a corporation who sought to rip all minerals from a planet and leave it barren - only to cause an inevitable extinction of all life. He wore relatively respectful clothing, accompanied by a security team that would soon meet a demise of their own. Faster than one may think, mind you.

It was to a knee that the Mandalorian lowered himself too, raising his scoped blaster carbine up to his visor - specifically the portion of it that concealed his dominant eye - the right one. The systems within his helmet synchronized itself with the carbine, projecting accurate fire vectors that would ensure a clean and efficient kill. One may even question whether or not Fett had any skill and it was purely his armor's doing. Those that did, however, were wrong. His finger eased itself down onto the trigger, a red bolt soaring across and impacting with one of the security officers before repeating the same process when it came to the second one. Both dropped dead, searing holes within each.

Bendak's cowardice added a fresh spin upon the 'fight or flight' method of approach, and instead acted in 'fright'. A face of pure terror, and as his gaze shifted upon the Mandalorian who he knew all too well from reputation alone, his eyes began to tear. Fett was of the opinion that the sound of a grown man crying was by far the most harrowing and disturbing sound in the entire galaxy. He hated it.

"Please, please, please."

"It's not my call to make."

The arm that housed the Dart Launcher was raised upwards for the briefest of moments as a sedation dart impacted with the rolls on his neck, injecting the chemical that forced him to sleep for some time. Bendak was a heavy man and transporting him back to the camp would prove near impossible at this current moment in time. For now he was to be hidden; it wasn't as if this conflict would last much longer. A whipcord found itself around his pudgy ankles before he was seen being dragged across the gravel by a Mandalorian who wanted nothing more than to collect his fee.

 

[Madison M. Maxwell IV]

(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Northern Uranium Mining Complex, Hallway​

Kicks​

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i'm the wild one, lightning in my veins​

same again; lazy day; one man hit parade​

silver dollar, black smoke in my eyes​

shattered glass; fallen fast; leave me paralyzed​

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oh, come with me, i'll show you how to live for free...​

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Sekhmet's body tensed as she heard those words leave the man she was squared up with and she nodded in acknowledgement, her posture shifting from one enthralled by battle to one of a willing ally. Outside she could hear the chaos of battle still raging on and with another firm nod she began to address the leader, in a tone still shaky from the rush of it all, "Sorry. Of course you are. D--"

And that's when it happened.

She'd recall it clearly for weeks to come following the battle, it had left such a strong imprint on her mind that on occasion she'd find herself dwelling on the strange events even after that particular conflict had long ended. A crash like thunder was heard as a man smacked his speeder into the wall behind the AECO squad-- Though, notably, he did seem fine, so that was something going for the entire situation --And her eyes looked back over to the men before her communicator went off. It was the Sovereign, demanding the capture of someone who had fallen into the courtyard behind them.

"Shall we?" She liked how this one felt. That rage inside reminded her of home. She jerked her head towards the entrance she had come from, a wicked smile on her face as she could already see the dazed Sith on the ground, simply waiting for their arrival.

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Spoiler: Interacting With

Directly: [member="Cynan Hague"] [member="Cassus Stoma"] | Other Tags: [member="Itash Mecetti"] [member="Varik Ice"] [member="Roella Arwyn"] [member="Saul Ferasi"] [member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Cynan Hague]

(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

So that was that, she wasn't hostile, a relief to be sure, though not an entirely welcome one, there was some small part of him who in a way hoped she'd come after them, though luckily, it was still just some small part. Cynan took in a single deep breath, hoping to have a moment of respite when Cassus suddenly made his appearance. Cynan had been sure the man missed his drop point and had assumed he'd turn up at some point, but not like this. This was a surprising entrance, as he vacated the crashing speeder a single thought crossed the AECOs mind, at least he was impressive. The ensuing crash of the vehicle caught little attention from the Sergeant, instead, it was focused on Cassus, a few pained words escape his lips "You alright Son?"

The Sovereigns communique left little time to wait for a response, Sekhmet had already cleared the upper level they were fighting to secure, so they had no excuse not to heed the call, despite their wounded state. So it would be then, he motioned to move and spoke again "Cassus, with me." The rest had proven themselves already, most were wounded, a few badly so, they deserved their rest. As far as Cynan was concerned, Cassus had spent the day joyriding around Orenda, if that was true or not, it mattered little. There was a target to capture, in the end.

 

[Cassus Stoma]

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(OBJECTIVE 1) Orenda, The Meraki Plains, Saorsa War Camp​

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The entrance mattered not to Cassus. Whether he was dead, wounded or worse is what crossed his mind. As he lay on the ground after his lengthy tumble, eyes shifted across him whilst unprotected fingers reached for every part that extended some sort of pain to check if everything was right where it should be. Luckily for him, it was. That's all he considered himself now. Lucky. Cassus couldn't help but feel disorientated, but after a few shakes of the head and a slap on the crest of the helmet everything came back to him. He was now in a war zone, lying down in the dirt isn't something that kept you alive in one for long.

His sluggish movements allowed him to stand upright, only after grabbing at the silenced weapon that lay next to him. The words of Sergeant Hague reached his ears and only heavy breathing and multiple nods seemed to be the youngsters response. The sight of the Squad moving left him without any moment of reprieve, but he was an AECO, it wasn't often that you got one. He moved at the back of the pack, eyes shifted here and there with a slug thrower raised. Whatever came next he hardly knew. It was just a time to do what everyone else did.

[member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"]

 

[Amadi the Bansihed]

Story post

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Schiama Clan territory, Orenda, Chrysos system, Wild Space.
Objective 3: Lead the wayward flock.
Interacting with: [member="Tobias Zieba"].​

"I am needed elsewhere." the heir replied crisply, setting the skull down on the stone slab table with a hollow thump. "If I don't prepare, another will eventually kill me and take my place; but the chieftain is hard to miss." Pressing out of his chair, sending it grinding back through the dirt, the Saorsi stood, where he snatched a faded linen map from one side of his table and whisked it into the center. A thick, meaty finger followed quickly after, pressing down towards a sect of forest to the north-east. "There," he explained "he not long left for this grove to meet a challenge. He will be there."

With a dagger that seemingly slipped out of thin air - more to the likeness of a shortsword, but a knife in the heirs hand - the Saorsi slashed an X at the meeting location before, before he flicked the map towards the would-be assassin with the index finger of the same hand.
"You do your part, I'll do mine."

 

[Bast'rom'arosti]

Objective 3: Lead the Wayward Flock | Schiama Clan Territory, Orenda​

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With: [member="Amadi the Banished"]​

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It appeared infighting and internal strike was afoot far too often than the reports had claimed. Tobias thought it wise of the creature before him to keep his well being in high regard. Even the successors of great chieftains and warlords had their lives at stake within the whole mix. Something peculiar, but nonetheless a smart move on the assailants' part. As the worn map was whisked away from a nearby shelf, Tobias felt his eyes falling upon it quickly.

He studied it intently, mentally tracing the route from their apparent location to the grove underneath the Saorsa's meaty finger. Not too far from here, the agent quickly realized. The whole ordeal could probably be finished with the hour, even less if he was quick about ensuring their chieftain never breathed again.

"I always uphold mine. I advise you do the same," steel-grey eyes rose to meet the Saorsa's, "Or else."

Tobias didn't even let the words sink in before he was already out of the tent, moving towards the hidden grove.

 

[Amadi the Bansihed]

Story post

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Schiama Clan territory, Orenda, Chrysos system, Wild Space.
Objective 3: Lead the wayward flock.
Interacting with: [member="Tobias Zieba"].​

All the secretive agent got out of the Saorsi was an affirmative snort as he left - not much, but as far as Saorsi stands go, likely enough. As the front flaps to the tent fluttered shut behind the agent, sounds of metal and whetstones ring out from behind it, carrying its own implications with it. Yet as the rasps faded into the background, obscured by scuffles and conversation, it only seemed to be replaced my more from elsewhere. What a primitive culture.

The path to the grove was mostly obscured. The occasional scuffle and even a toppled cart of crudely flayed hides threatened to block the way, but never blocked the path entirely. The palisades eventually parted for the agent at a camp entrance, where the guardsmen didn't offer much more than a sly glance; one didn't even notice at all, too busy picking food out from between his front teeth with an axe. The path, as it led closer to the grove, became more obscure and difficult to follow; but soon enough, the agent wouldn't need it.

"Coward!" boom a deep voice, causing many alien birds to scurry from the trees. "You would let your own wives be taken to the mines!? You are not fit for chieftai-" The shouting was interrupted by a much deeper roar, followed by the clash of steel. If the agent dared to peek, he would see two Saorsi fighting: one unarmored bar a single leather pauldron with an axe in either hand, and another much larger Saorsi clad in quality plate and leather bearing the mark of schiama with a mighty hammer held in both hands. Uninterrupted, the two would continue to swap blows, with the noble quickly seizing the advantage with a jab from the hammer followed by a crude knee to the crotch.

 

[Zedd Harkor]

Lord Admiral Zedd Harkor
Royal Chambers, Citadel, Eadu
Objective: 2

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The fleet engagement was going as anticipated: one-sided.

Truly, the minuscule fraction of a decent military fleet was no match for the ungovernable might of the established Sovereign Navy.

As Commodore Alicia Gisk kept in frequent contact with the weapons exchanges between the two fleets, Harkor watched the cams footage from the various vessels that lined the Sovereign Fleet, bombarding and pummeling the so-called Miner Fleet. It was a jarring display, to say the least. Not quite unexpected, as Harkor had obviously deliberated in the navy's self-sufficiency without his intervention, but jarring still. Although Harkor had developed planetary fleets before, this was perhaps his greatest organizational achievement. It would be unprofessional and compromising to his authority to admit his own suspension of disbelief; to see an organic structure flowing before him, at his creation and behest, was impressive, even though Harkor had deliberately designed this structure so.

The number of ships the Miner Fleet held in it's captivity withered by the moment; victory was in sight for the Sovereign forces. Before long, three ships each varying wildly in size remained. The Sovereign fleet continued in it's unrelenting assault of superior firepower.

"Lord Admiral, sir?", inquired a Naval officer behind Harkor; Harkor turned around to meet his eyes. Harkor didn't verbally respond, as he let the officer respond.

"The enemy forces are dwindling. Victory will soon be ours."

"I can see that."

"Aye. Confident, weren't you, sir?"

"What? More than confident. I was already assured."

Harkor's response mimicked his desire for authority; it was a facade Harkor was brilliant in asserting forward, but it was hardly needed to convince the young officer behind him that was clearly lacking in some personal confidence. After the decisive response from Harkor, the officer saluted, before trotting off elsewhere. Harkor, looking away from the fleet engagement for but a moment, saw the holoprojection of Commodore Gisk standing before himself, upon the briefing table. He had turned his attention away, unaware of the current status on the battle. She, the Commodore, spoke; "Sir, we've won the battle. All of the vessels of their pesky Miner Fleet has been destroyed, and the impudent mega-corporations have been effectively crippled.", spoke she, in a matter of fact tone of voice. "Good work, Commodore. Now, splinter your forces; take one squadron and place them in orbit above Orenda to ensure we have no further interlopers, take the other half to the system HQ of the mining corporations. Arrest them, for they will stand trial for their crimes against the Sovereignty.", ordered of Harkor, before Gisk responded; "Yes sir.", spoke Gisk, before she turn't around, and began hurling a bunch of orders to her subordinates. Harkor's work in overseeing this operation was finished, as he arose from his seat. The operations room was clapping, cheering several officers were shaking each others hand. Harkor politely took to the celebrations with his colleagues, shaking each of their hands, as their intervention over Orenda had been completed.