TSE Dominion of Shri-Tal (Hex AL-25)

[Fiolette Fortan]

Shri-Tal​

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Objective: Burn and Purge​

Sith Imperial War Fleet​

Aboard the Elidibus​

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Fiolette nodded in acknowledgment, while quietly watching the burning of Shri-Tal unfold before her. Communications from Captain Tarkin and his team could be faintly heard on her console as she tapped into them. The last she knew of him he had been left to waste with the 103rd in the First Order, tasked to sit out in the Western Reaches in some of the more remote assignments the First Imperials could give him. Fiolette knew that his unit hadn't been the most disciplined at the time but it seems life in the Sith Empire has changed them. That and brutality of the First Order's discipline she imagined they were efficient and made use of the second chance that the Sith Empire provided them.

The Galidraani shifted her attention to the fleet. An array of communications poured in and she waited for Ensign Geontene to sort through them. "Bombardment report approximately seven percent complete. Armada reports no resistance thus far."

"Hunding inform the gun crews that they may fire at will."

"Of course Admiral."

The Elidibus's own guns would go to work, searing across the depths of space that lingered between the ship and Shri-Tal. Fiolette could hear the guns as they went off, sounds that whispered quietly in the space around the ship. She only but to watch as the billows of smoke erupted from the surface and into the atmosphere. It was then that she heard the voice of Darth Arcanix break through her thoughts. "They hold up well, the Elidibus has yet to complain." She answered matter-of-factly attention split between the Sith Lord and the task at hand.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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A City, Shri-Tal​

Objective II: Bring Judgement​

Assisted by: [member="Cairyn Midore"]​

The war machine released its fiery breath, burning all in its wake.

The 12th continued to press deeper into the city from their various landing zones, enacting a crushing vice around the throat of the resisting defense forces that still remained. The enemy had put up a stiff fight, adamant to protect the ground that slowly but surely became an encirclement around their individual bubbles that grew shorter and shorter as the minutes went by. The planetary defense force of Shri-Tal might have been aptly trained and equipped to ward off a small scale invasion but this was far from small and the force in question was nothing short than an elite fighting force that blitzed it's way through the streets with a ruthless efficiency. The 12th Shock Infantry Regiment was no stranger to the battlefield, Colonel Thumahra ensuring that time and time again the unit was thrown into the thick of it to keep the men under his command occupied but also hardened and ready to carry out their duty in a moments notice. This style of training as opposed to some that utilized training camps within Sith Empire space ensured that those fresh faces were bloodied and experienced with the fires of war after their first deployment; it was tough, borderline sadistic but those that made it through were considered the best of the best, soldiers worthy of the grace of the Emperor himself. It was this that inspired the zeal in the 12th, broken down and built back up and given the incentive to fight like demons in the name of their Emperor.

Perhaps it was fitting that a demon sat at the forefront of the Regiment, the witnesses on Florn had only grown in number as the word spread among the ranks and seeped into the greater social society that was the Sith Legion. Whispers spread among the men yet nobody dared speak out or ask questions to Vestille himself; his mind in a constant state of conflict as soldier fought beast, both vying for control of the vessel that was the Colonel's body yet this war wasn't one of clashing but rather intrigue; a cold war, both sides living in some form of harmony but constantly looking for advantages and opportunities over the other to rise to the top and kick the other to the curb and it was this split personality which only intensified the torment of Vestille; his time in isolation was spent in a realm of madness, the seething darkness and the stalwart soldier clashing time and time again, adding onto the ceaseless nightmares that plagued him whenever his mind drifted to sleep. Everything drove him closer to insanity and certain death, he needed help, perhaps even redemption but alas, finding such was a challenge within itself.

He had let his mind wander as he and his men continued to advance through the streets, heading to the central point to which the plaza stood as the jewel of the city, the monumental statue hailing the Silver Jedi Order as heroes cast forever in marble stood tall and proud for the city to witness. It was here that judgement would be served and those guilty of collaboration with their sworn enemy would be put to the sword; in the presence of the statue that stood ever so vigilantly. Where were the Silver Jedi now? If not they, who was coming to save the population of the city that burned? It was this sense of poetry and irony that would strike deep into the hearts of those who still wished to resist and fight, giving the 12th even more resistance to put down. Brutality indeed spawned brutality but to Vestille it was all very much intentional; it gave his men a purpose and an enemy to fight and kill, using them not as opponents but more or less assets that one would consider training. The invasion of this city had been a simple task, one that Vestille regarded as nothing more than a routine exercise and an opportunity for the fresh faces to prove themselves. As the Colonel and his command staff reached the plaza, the sight of hundreds of civilians grouped together with more and more being added as time went by was a sight that he and many others were all too familiar with; Ession being perhaps the most recent reminder of the brutality that both the Sith Empire and those who served under it were truly capable of.

"Begin."

The order from Vestille was all that was required for the process to start; the list of collaborators and traitors was long and plentiful; it would no doubt take time to rake through the crowds and locate all of them but fortunately, time was something that the Colonel and the men of the 12th had in plentiful amounts. Families were torn apart and friends were separated as those upon the list were dragged to the base of the statue and lined up. A volley of gunfire and then the process was to be rinsed and repeated. The occasional dragged out of the crowd and past the Colonel and his staff; Purebloods, no doubt being taken to Sith Empire space to find their redemption or simply perish and all the while? The last remaining bastions of resistance could do nothing to break through the lines of their enemy to save them. No Jedi Order was there to spring to action and save the population from the atrocities that they now suffered.

Today was a day of blood that the people of this city would never forget.

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

Shri-Tal

There was a distinct understanding between the Dark Lord of the Sith and Kalak the Raykkan, mostly bridged by his pumpkin, [member="Ao Xian"]. While his restaurants were popping up on several locations throughout the Sith Empire, Kalak had decided to forego the usual exploitation of... natural resources located on-site. They had to source their produce from their other sites, but that was the price of doing business, no?

Felucia had proven to be a bountiful world for herbs and other tasty additions, but Shri-Tal?

Oh, oh, oh.

Kalak could almost taste the organic produce in the air. For some reason the Dark Lord hadn't cared as much about what happened to this system... well, as long everything in their path died.

That was something he could get behind.

"Yes, just put it down there, Desmond, that is okay." Kalak breathed before flopping over towards the sentient tree and settling himself down in the recliner put there by the Dalan. Here on the hill the Raykkan had a beautiful angle on his ships slowly descending down from the skies. They were crass and crude vehicles, rusted metal and bellowing out smoke, fuel leaking in numerous places and already igniting parts of the forest beneath.

That suited Kalak just fine.

"Ahh, if only my sweetrolls was here, she would adore hunting here. So many critters. Delicious." Already one colorful specimen -- eyes vacant, drool slipping past lip -- jumped onto a plate near the Raykkan. "Mm, so placid too, yes, she would have the time of her life."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Fires raged across Cazador.

Gargantuan Leviathan-class mobile factories strafed the planet's surface, tractor beams and destabilizing flame rendering the environment destitute as it gobbled up more and more natural resources. Several of these vessels were decorated with the iconography of the Dark Legion and were manned by the Graug and their wicked cousins the Graut. These roaving ships of destruction operated a great distance away from the bands of warriors and marauders that stalked the wilds for prey, descending on villages and cities with ruthless abandon and merciless cruelty. When a settlement was rendered unto ruin, the Graug would move on for their next fight while concentrated artillery barrages left nothing of civilization behind them.

In their place, a new civilization began to rise.

Bodies of water were drained into vast catacombs as the earth was uprooted and entire canyons dug, crude structures of metal and hide rising along the cliff-sides and in the deepest recesses of these unnatural crevasses. Already where the Graug tread they were converted for their own use, digging out entire new cities and erecting debased monuments to their cruel and barbaric religion. This was what they had been promised to them by the Dark Lord, this was their reward for their most debased indulgences.

A new world to call their own, one to mold and shape to their own desires as they had done with Fornow and Belkadan.

Gloriously grotesque.

 

[Mythos]

Location: Above the Magnus Battlecruiser
Objective: Destroy the resistance

"Lord Mythos, HECTOR is ready to fire" Anok-eh said, knowing perfectly well it was entirely out of protocol and that Mythos was waiting for something beyond his knowledge.The Anubian had admittedly been in doubt many times of his prophet but his faith had rewarded with power time and time again, he thought to himself even now that this was proof of that statement. He slammed his pole-arm once into the ground again, the nod from his Dark Flames and the munitions officer. Mythos this time did not wait long, seconds after the slam of the weapon Mythos in turn tapped he edge of the Ax on the polished durasteel deck, it being his signal to fire. Once again the composite beams charged and connected, this time accompanied with the song of the forward batteries to it's side. The Space station had already sustained heavy damage, most of it's crew that was not in evacuation and retreat, fleeing the burning coffin in space were already dead. The second blast of the Magnus came without mercy aimed and locked near the same area of target as before but this time with no shields to properly protect it.

It was a gruesome sight to see yet beautiful at the same time, the space station detonated upon impact sending a shockwave that destroyed nearby ships big and small. Mythos on his throne could sense the massive loss of life and the fear and panic of his enemies raised his left hand. "Bank left, open the flank for the right pincer, finish them."

"Yes My Lord Mythos, The Anrgamar fleet is here." Anok-eh replied seconds before the first of the Cathedral ships jumped out of hyperspace behind the Harbringers. They were the final stroke of the ax, the orbital bombardment ships and planetary assault ships that would take this entire world under Sith rule as with everything in it. Inside the Cathedral ships was the army as well, the Molok Legion and the rest of the forces Mythos had tasked for this mission. He had no doubt of their efficiency in terminating every last blade of resistance in this world and setting up the mines for the empire to use in it's further constructions of weapons of war. The fire upon the Magnus died down considerably after the space station was destroyed, now with the planet and more losing their defense grid they retreated back into the surface to await their final demise.

On the right flank and pincer Mythos spoke about, inside the Scythe-Class under the command of Golan Hummer the Marinos ascended to the bride section of the ship in squads, the first employing the gas to similar levels of success opening up the entry to the rest of the squad. Golan was at the tip of that spear, his SIF rifle opening up yet again at the enemy barred inside of the bridge ducts, this time peppering his body several times through the durasteel and such ending his life. One by one the commanding officers were hunted down and executed either by the gas, blaster or other means of brutality and violence. Within minutes of breaching the bridge Hummer and the Marinos had commandeered the Scythe class with drastically less casualties that predicted.

Hummer used the slicer droids to patch the communications to the encrypted network of Lord Mythos, a clearance that only he possessed. Upon the bridge of the Magnus the image of Hummer's face, eyes and pupils larger than ion orbs and blood drenched armor. "My Lord Mythos" He said, clearly still under the influence of the blood pumping adrenaline from both his drug abuse and the violence of battle, his voice was animal like. "We have the Scythe as you commanded, it's systems are intact as was requested."

The Magnus still blared alarms and rumbled from both fire from it's enemies although dwindling and the fire from it's front batteries when Hummer called. Mythos sat directly in front of the hologram tapping rhythmically on the hilt of the ax with his burnt fingernails. In his mind it was all happening at once, every angle and battle position planned and thought out with the delicate angles of fire and tools employed. He regarded the image of the soldier before him coldly, if he had any emotion to show for his victory and success he did not show it. |

"You will be given coordinates for the Siiruuvi-Culster. Upon arrival you will be provided with additional instructions." Mythos said, his voice a low but powerful tone that sounded animal like as well similar to Hummer, they both smiled under their armor. His eyes were clear to the commander as two yellow suns through the holographic display, Mythos was not one Golan would cross or would ever want to fail, or so he hoped for his own well being. Hummer on the other hand was one of the few in the regiment that would do this for half the pay and double the guns, yet he was far from the only one. "Your will be done."
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[Kalak the Raykkan]

Shri-Tal

At the end of the day this was what the Raykkans did.

Its what they had done to Raykka millennia ago.

Take one look at a particularly lush world and then decide that they had a better vision for it. Even if that vision was a toxic wasteland with skies filled of smog and smoke without a single leaf of green. Usually there weren't really any people left to complain once they were done. Either they had been eaten, subverted or thrown into hiding, the latter of which... never really lasted long.

"Ahh, look Desmond, doesn't that look fabulous?" The Raykkan murmured coarsely, coughing just a bit against the wet atmosphere. Right now... this world was a chit to live in, the atmosphere too... clean and too pleasant and too ugh to be great for Kalak.

But the Raykkan knew that wouldn't last.

It never did.

"I believe we should establish some comm links with our other logistic worlds, yes? See how we can make this efficient."

If the Raykkans were anything it was efficient.

 

[Vaulkhar]

Screams. Blood. Burning.

No matter the place, no matter the time, no matter the warrior; these three attributes were a constant acquaintance to the battle hardened soldier of the Sith. From his first subjugation to his last bar room brawl, Vaulkhar has made an uneasy alliance with the screams of his foes, the blood of those dying, and the burning of that which opposed him. The further he tried to distance himself from his father, the closer he felt to the man. The young, dark jedi strove to carve a name for himself within the galaxy without his father's legacy to aid him, so he made it a habit to carve through those who opposed the Sith Empire whenever he could. Well, that was the case in the past. However, with his self exile coming to a close, once more he took up the blade to carve through those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the otherside of the half breed's wrath. His objective was a simple one; purge and exterminate. Funnily enough, he could not remember a planet he attacked for the Sith where this was not the prime objective he took up.

His saber, an angry orange color, akin to lava itself radiated his surroundings. The dark jedi pulled the force around him, the energy coalescing around his leg as he planted it firmly against a wooden door and shattered it upon impact. Hours had gone by since he landed on Shri-Tal, though he was not yet tired from the exertion of exterminating the inhabitants of this particular town, city, or village. Rather, he was numb. There was no joy, just a cold sense of duty that shrouded him. He was risky with how he carried himself this day. Vaulkhar did not mask himself with the force, rather, he rampaged through the streets, going door to door to deliver the only salvation the cur of this planet could ever truly know: death.

The dark jedi studied the near empty home, devoid of all life aside from his own. If it weren't for the light of his saber, it be dark, too dark to see for those unfortunate enough to rely on their sense of sight alone. A brief buzzing followed by a rather obnoxious beep flared from the communicator at his ear. Vaulkhar pressed a finger against it, activating it. As new orders surged from the device, he chuckled. The domination of the planet was already coming to a close, perhaps it was an unfortunate turn of events for those upon the planet, perhaps it was a welcome doom. He could not be sure, as he was not fate nor was he the man who decided their death was at hand. Rather, he was the man ordered to swing the blade and sever them from their mortal coil. Vaulkhar shook his head and escaped his sudden revere before stepping outside. A woman attempted to run past.

Attempted being the key word.

Vaulkhar's blade flashed forward, lopping her head from her shoulders with the flick of his wrist. Her body slammed into the pavement, a sickening sound as the momentum carried her downwards, likely breaking bone on impact. Her head fell several feet away, rolling to a stop beside his foot. He raised his foot, once more summoning the force around it, before stomping down and shattering the head against the stonework below. He truly was his father's son.

 

[Koda Fett]

The Bounty Hunter had his own code, and it often stretched out the side of social normalities. Even for some of the most unruly individuals to grace the Galaxy with their presence. It was only ever a job. That, truly, was the absolute truth. It is when someone earns a price on their head that they are no longer considered a person; only an acquisition, a target, an object. It made sense. Prevented a conscience from getting in the way, but even Bounty Hunters were often psychopaths, or they walked that line. Fett? Who knew. It was simply know that he was the best.

A Raykkan had been desiring a certain kind of meat, a very specific kind. Fett had heard of Kalak's twisted buffet, and it left him thinking about the levels of cruelty that a figure with those capabilities could unleash. It was almost admirable. Almost. If nothing else? Disgusting.

Koda had arrived, silent as usual. A Twi'Lek male had stood before him, bound and gagged burn capable of walking. Now? Now came the payment.

[member="Kalak the Raykkan"]

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

[member="Koda Fett"] would arrive just as Desmond the Dalan was applying a layer of creme on Kalak's skin.

Moisture was important to counter the drying of skin, no?

Those burning eyes studied the bounded and gagged form of the Twi'lek currently kneeling before him. He didn't rise, remaining flopped on the recliner and enjoying the scenery. It didn't prevent him from starting to salivate a bit, the drool dripping gently to the ground and Koda might notice how where it touched the green... it began to burn and sizzle just a bit.

Acidic touch.

"Mm, mister Fett, you truly are as good as it gets, no?" Kalak finally murmured with a beautiful smile. Teeth sharpened and rows upon rows, already eagerly wondering how he would chomp down on the meat. "Desmond, give mister Fett what we agreed to, will you?"

From the depths of his bark a clawed hand pushed in, before coming out with a small chest.

It dropped down before the Mandalorian and the drop caused it to open just a bit. Enough for the Twi'lek to see his own worth, a gaggle of nova crystals still humming gently against one another. It wasn't a fortune, but then the Twi'lek wasn't worth that much. Still a comfortable price that reflected the ease of the job. Koda wouldn't have had to hunt for him long.

Or Kalak didn't expect him to anyway.

"Does this satisfy you?"

 

[Darth Prazutis]

It was a cataclysm on an unprecedented scale.

The Shadow Hand smiled under the hood of his deathly shroud as the abominations, the spawn of the Lotek'k did their work with brutal efficiency. After all of the hard work of himself and [member="Taeli Raaf"] as well as other Sith to bind the great abomination that it finally came back to work in their favor. For all of their efforts they were unprepared to handle the full scope of the Terror from Beyond's rage and Sith died screaming as a result. They were given hero's funerals for their sacrifice. But to stand on Cazador and see the horde in action made their sacrifice worth it. They were on the frontlines of battle yet they couldn't have been more safe.

The Defense Forces of Cazador what little they had were caught between the brutal Jen'Lazea and the demonic spawn and they were obliterated. A blighted sore cut across the landscape by the time Ulganax had held back from the corruption it had already spanned miles, the entire battlefield from them to the forces of High Warlord Malgrog were fighting in darkness, an inky black substance blotted out the sun while the earth twisted and mutated in unnatural ways. As the Forces of Ruin passed over towns, settlements, cities the entire civilization was obliterated until nothing remained. When the graug took control of this world there would be no record of it's people, no buildings to tell their tale through the generations, no ruins or archives to find to learn about the lost civilization. Imperial Records would be altered to erase the indigenous peoples of Cazador from existence.

Under the command of the Sith Emperor [member="Darth Carnifex"] the world of Cazador would be forever known as a hordeworld of the Dark Legion. The vast hordes that the God-Splitter commanded grew faster and faster, it was remarkable just how quickly they could replenish their losses. The horde was vast when they left Fornow and were seated on Belkadan and it didn't take them long in those jungles for them to conquer the entire world and destroy all potential rivals until they ruled the entire world and began to build up new strongholds, they'd only grown in size since. But the God-Splitter was one of House Zambrano's greatest champions and most loyal servants many rivals and enemies of the family had been killed by Malgrog alone, the greatest had their skulls taken as trophies and their assets plundered. Cazador would fall under the Sith Empire and it would be given to Malgrog as a reward.

 

[Koda Fett]

There was a scowl that tugged at the Bounty Hunter's lips from beneath his helmet. Kalak was a beast like no other; a sight to behold. It may have been disgust, perhaps contempt, or something else. It wasn't as if the Mandalorian was ready to start revealing his thoughts on an employer. They were often negative, but credits were credits, no matter how dirty they were.

His T-Visor gaze had angled downwards with the craning of his neck, witnessing the credits stacked within their case upon being opened. They didn't possess the particular shine and glow that they often had when placed under a spotlight in a darker room. That, if nothing else, was something that made Fett's day.

Fett replied, "Yes." It was as simply as himself, or so he seemed externally. A closer inspection of a man such as that's psyche was... rather complex. It took a lot to be the individual that Koda Fett was, and even more to continue existing as him. He wasn't here for an elongated meeting, instead nothing short of a trade. This Twi'Lek was meat and Fett knew that, and he hadn't been exactly interested in witnessing some form of meal take place.

[member="Kalak the Raykkan"]

 

[Taeli Raaf]

In orbit over Shri-Tal
Aboard the Elidibus
Objective: Burn and Purge

[member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

"I agree with the Rear Admiral's assessment, Lady Arcanix," a holographic woman, appearing on one of her interfaces. MORGAUSE had been monitoring all weapon systems as she was not needed in the laboratories at the moment. That part would come later, once Taeli and her team were taking apart and studying the creatures captured from the surface. "I can report no fluctuations in reactor power draw, and all weapon systems are operating at peak efficiency."

"Excellent to hear, progress on the other operations in the system?" she asked.

"AQUILA has reported that the Emperor and the Shadow Hand are well on the way to turning Cazador into a breeding world for their hordes," the AI informed both Taeli and Fiolette. "Estimations are at roughly 57% of the world has already fallen and begun to be repurposed. The Lady Cerbera's experiment on Orsonian is going ahead, and Lord Mythos continues his devastation of Sekirei. If all continues to go as smoothly as now, the entire system will be subjugated in no more than three days, my Lady. Population estimates are in flux, but these worlds will be free to be developed as seen fit by the Sith Empire."

Taeli nodded and looked back out over a world slowly being reduced to ash, glass, and whatever survived the bombardment and extermination mission of the Sith forces. Shri-Tal, and its sister worlds, would never be the same again. The Sith would turn these worlds into something far more useful, something to show their former protectors what happened when they crossed them.

 

[4ND-R0]

Location: Cazador, planetside
Objective: Enslave native FU's, pillage Force artifacts
Post: #3
With: [member="Darth Interitus"]

Sacerdos listened as the acolyte reported back to him. He soon began to smell fire in the air. The Graug were advancing more quickly it seemed. He nodded to the acolyte.
"Yes. We shall proceed to their shrine. But make haste. I'm afraid our time is short." He moved forward toward his goal, the religious shrine that was at the center of the village. He stopped as his lead Legionnaire passed by. "Captain. Process what you have subdued already and move along. Kill the rest. Corpses for the Graug to feast upon. No doubt they will be celebrating."

The Legionnaire captain nodded. What few of the sensitive villagers were rounded up, with a mix of screams and blasterfire adding to the chorus of genocide. He advanced to the shrine. There alone was an old woman, some sort of shaman. She seemed ready to fight to protect what relics were hidden there. Sacerdos could only grin his nasty grin.

"How noble." He mocked, "But futile. Your people are either slaughtered or in chains. Your world is being purged and made claim by another species." The woman replied to him in her native language. He did not rightly understand her, but her tone was defiance. "Your words matter not. I need only know where your relics are." She began to protest at him again, which was met with a stream of electricity from his hand. "I have no time for resistance. Your pain will loosen your resolve. I know well enough about pain." He grinned widely, displaying the full, sickening smile worthy of Hell. "Allow me to show you." The shrine was filled with nothing but her screams and his devilish laughter.

 

[Thyne]

A faint sigh of relief released itself from his mouth when it seemed he wouldn't be benched after all. Good. He was anxious to get moving. He was quick to nod along to Ithnan's comment, pulling himself onto the transport, rocking back and forth on his heels. This was going too slow. There were things to do, blood to be spilled. The fact that he was so hyped up on the carnage was unsettling in its own right, but that would be a note for later. For now, they still had a job to do.

"[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] taught me a few tricks." He remembered the sessions fondly. Well, as fondly as one could remember being beaten and bloodied by their sort-of kin. "Beyond that, uh, I just let the sword guide me." The statement held more truth than Thyne would ever like to admit. One could claim the two worked in tandem all he wanted, but more often than not, that voice called the shots, whispering commands for Thyne's ears only. Even now, he could hear it creeping into the back of his head. A gentle chuckle that still managed to send chills down the boy's back, even after having the sword for a while.

And the more you cooperate, the more powerful we become.

"What of you?" Quick to change the subject, Thyne whirled his head perhaps too enthusiastically to address Ithnan. The curls once matted to his face had managed to dry a bit, regaining just a bit of movement as his head went mobile. "Where'd you learn your skill set?"

[member="Ithnan Cryo"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

HMS DRAGON'S FANG​

Orbit of Shri-Tal​

[ BYOO - Relocation of Atrisian ex-patriots ]​

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Her hangar bay resembled a concentration camp.

Temporary shelters functioned more like prisons, collecting the Atrisians from off of the planet's surface and ferrying them out of the way of the Sith Empire's assault upon the former Silver Jedi world. Was it right? Was it wrong?

She didn't know. And, to be completely honest, didn't much care for the distinction either way. It was the lesser of two evils. These people would continue living. If that end did not justify the means, then she would gladly accept damnation for having done what she had in order to choose life.

Watching the bombardment and fires spreading across the planet gave her clear indication of what the alternative available them had been.

The sound of footsteps upon the catwalk brought the woman's eyes around to spot a messenger approaching. "General Xu's shuttle has returned," the non-com reported succinctly.

The Ground Self-Defense Forces had returned. So General Xu was calling the extraction complete.

Most likely, the only Atrisians left on Shri-Tal were the bodies of the dead they left behind.

"Very well," the woman noted, dismissing the non-com with a nod. Directing her attention down into the lower pit, she called out, "Navigator, calculate the jump to Atrisia."

They were done here. "XO, take us out of orbit."

"Helm, come starboard zero-one-four mark eight. Bring port-side engine thrust up one-quarter power..."

Standing at the front of the bridge, the Atrisian matriarch just watched as the world of Shri-Tal fell out of view, as the star destroyer began to pull away from the planet and angle itself for the cold solace that would mark the journey ahead.

 

[Ithnan Cryo]

Jocelyn Zambrano? A lone eyebrow raised when he heard the name. To think that this person would know someone of the royal family was quite the surprise. Paired with [member="Thyne"] choice of words on how he lets the sword guide him a large air of mystery filled the conversation. While he had a list of follow up questions ready to fire Thyne was quick on the draw in pushing the conversation forward. He had learned from numerous instructors that filled the Academy on Bastion. Feeling it was tedious to list off all of them and attach it to what exactly he was taught he compiled it all into

"I was taught by the instructors of the academy on Bastion. A more formal master of service still eludes me so, for now, I apply my service directly to the Empire. What brings you to the mile-"

His words were cut off by the pilot's announcement. They were less than a few miles out and had confirmation a few nearby transports would be linking up before landing commenced. Almost as if the universe was playing a sweet harmony in events the announcer words were paired with several more AIT's parting the clouds and forming a line along either side of them. Ithnan couldn't be sure of who the sergeants in charge were but the help would smooth things along if it got bumpy on the ground. With numerous callsigns reporting over the communication system, Ithnan small conversation was replaced with the dictation of orders to the small troupe.

"Once we touch down you are to stay close until we have secured our landing. When all that is does we will sweep the compound in teams to cover ground. If any back up is required when you put it over the air. If any of you stumble upon resources beneficial to the Empire, whether it be military or economic goods, you tag its location and keep moving."

A small wave of nods came from the troopers as quietly focused for the unknown.

"If you don't mind, you can accompany me. You are a fun conversation." There was a smile after his words that bordered on genuine and conniving. Yes, he wanted to keep an eye on this strange fellow, but he also found that a strong asset should accompany him to further bolster the stopping power they could inflict on resistance.

Within no time the silence of preparation was broken by a harsh rock of the AIT and the shouting of codes from the pilots as they maneuvered the craft past the small pattern of Anti Air fire coming from the mountains below. It wasn't enough to cause concern but the immediate attack had caught them off guard. The other crafts with them set about their own evasive maneuvers and soon the neat incursion was sent into a rocky start. Descending lower and lower the Transports slowly marked their target, a circular landing pad hidden in the man made the mouth of a mountain. On it was what looked to be several ships, nothing to write home about, cargo vessels at best, and what one could call resistant forces if they seemed equipped for such a task. The people below were probably volunteers and informants for the SJO in charge of the shipment. A plethora of crates also adorned the landing platform with the ill-equipped fighters bearing markings of the SJO and other smaller corporations and owners.

With the craft lowering and slowing down Ithnan gave a silent sight before placing his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"I guess it wouldn't be fun if no one was here." He said to no one directly and more so the universe.

With a roaring thud, the AIT landed and the back ramp lowered down revealing a small show of lights as Troopers from other transports had already begun engaging the defenses on the pad. He didn't give a war cry or some inspirational speech those were for meant more skilled at them and tasks he deemed them necessary. This should be a one-sided slaughter and if the people beneath him weren't aware that victory was the only option then he was better off saving his breath regardless. Rushing off the ramp he set about deflecting the initial blasts that came his way. It was a clear divide in the lines. Toward the gate to the compound and mountain entrance were the resistance, and toward the steep drop off the pad and rebel, ships were the Imperial troopers. It was very cute and neat...but cute and neat wasted valuable time. Keeping his pace he rushed through the sea of enemy fire until he was on the other side,there force granting him far better movement then he could naturally and began to cut down those who were smart enough to focus on the guy next to them looking to detacth a limb or two.

The troopers on his transports rushed out, joining the line and aiming for anyone not focused on the people adjacent them looking to place a hole in their head. Their order had already been given and the task at hand was clear, kill them all.