We, The People | TAE Dominion of Dredd (AM-36)

[Frontier Tenacity]

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“...From good intent,​

Shall darkness rise​

And in men's hearts​

Will evil thrive​

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When the horror​

Is made whole,​

The Reaper comes​

To take his toll...”​

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- This thread is the first chapter in the saga of The Winter Campaigns -​

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Death begets death begets death begets death. Planet Dredd. An ancient, decrepit, rotten world, hidden away in the distant reaches of Wild Space. A world forgotten by the galaxy, which has attracted the attention of various organizations, warlords and secret societies within the sprawling feudal empire known as the Ancient Eye. For several months, Ancient Eye and Shrouded Republic secret services, have been actively infiltrating Dredd and planning its annexation. For it is here that a piece of the Great Eye may be found, as indicated by information reaching Ancient Eye leadership, through various sources. The time has come to reintegrate Dredd into the galaxy and cleanse it of the chaos, corruption and lawlessness in the throes of which this world has fallen. The time has come to impose a new kind of order, one based on discipline, service and hard work. And the time has come to begin the great quest to unite the pieces of the Great Eye and restore balance to the galaxy.

Two operations shall be carried out by the forces of the Ancient Eye. First, the various security agencies of the Ancient Eye, along with the military, shall insure the complete subjugation of the planet, under a veneer of supporting a legitimate democracy. Operation Pandora, as it is called, shall insure that favorable candidates win the senatorial election in Liberty District One, while pacifying and subverting the other districts through a combination of subterfuge, covert action and military might.

Concurrently, a special strike team shall use the chaos and confusion generated by Operation Pandora to penetrate deep behind enemy lines and extract the artifact piece from whichever group, organization or entity currently holds it.

One way or another, the various districts of Dredd shall join the Ancient Eye, willingly or not...

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OOC Briefing:​

Strike Team Mission:

Recover Artifact: Information reaching us from various sources, indicates that a fragment of the Great Eye is located somewhere within the Dark Zone and may be the source of the many disturbances within this district. While the other planetary operations are unfolding, a special strike team is to penetrate deep within the Dark Zone and recover the artifact piece. Speed, efficiency and coordination are required. It is advised that the strike team work covertly, so as to avoid attracting undue attention, while the defenses of the Dark Zone are focused on fighting off the military invasion (See Objective C)

Operation Pandora Objectives:

A: Undermine the senate in Liberty District One: Months of planning and propaganda have resulted in the placement of several friendly senators in key position throughout the Senate. Insure that the Senate aligns with our cause by rigging the upcoming election. Bribery, blackmail and the kidnapping of key officials' families for coercion purposes, are recommended as methods to accomplish this objective. For reasons of maintaining stability, careful considerations have to be taken to insure the secrecy of this operation.

B: Subdue Rocket City Racketeers, Nova City Angels and Cheshire's Children: In a swift, coordinated operation, eliminate the leadership of these gangs and replace it with puppets under our control. Swiftness, precision and speed are key elements of this operation and it is imperative that it is carried out swiftly, to prevent any long-term opposition. It is advised that this is followed up by religious conversion of the gangs, in order to insure long-term compliance.

C: Subjugate the Dark Zone: Due to the dangerous and mysterious nature of the Dark Zone, no risks are to be taken here. This is an all-out military operation and the Dark Zone is to be subdued through force, whatever organization rules this part of the planet is to be crushed and slaughtered to the last man, woman and child. If the inhabitants prove troublesome, Ancient Eye forces are to establish control through terror, by employing the tactic of decimation: One in every ten inhabitants of this region is to be culled, cut down and the corpses crucified, to set an example. Ancient Eye forces taking part in this mission are advised to exercise extreme brutality.

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[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #1​

Attn: Strike Team​

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• Strike Team Mission
  Deploying From Orbit, Planet Dredd

Great beasts of durasteel and mechanical parts floated in formation, in the dark, cold void above Dredd. Operation Pandora was underway. Concurrently with the elections in Liberty District One, the pacification of the various factions on Dredd, was unfolding below, troops and military assets deploying into the Dead Zone, while various agents carried out their assigned missions in the various other districts, bringing the various gangs under control.

The man who commanded the infamous First Fleet from aboard his massive flagship, the Invictus, would not be part of any of that, however. He had another role to play in the events unfolding below, a much more secretive one, but equally vital, if not more.

According to available intelligence, carefully collected by the various agencies and organizations that handled such things within the Ancient Eye, a fragment of the powerful artifact which the feudal nation's most powerful individuals and groups sought, was located somewhere in the Dark Zone, a mysterious district of this planet, from which few had ever returned alive.

To put the Great Eye back together, was something which every Sith Lord and powerful Sorcerer within the Ancient Eye, sought and Darth Tacitus, the Overlord of the Shrouded Republic and second most powerful man in the entire nation, was no exception.

A special strike team had been put together, comprised of some of the most talented, powerful and experienced individuals within the Ancient Eye and Tacitus was part of it. He and his Wolfguards, accompanied by a team of Blackwatch Death Squads, made their way down to the planet in one of the shuttles that was part of this special strike force. They deployed in secret, under the cover of a massive aerial campaign that bombarded the Dark Zone and kept the defenders' attention away from the infiltrators.

As Tacitus stepped out of the shuttle, surrounded by his troops, he was greeted by the stench of death and the sounds of war, but no enemies had noticed the Strike Team's presence so far.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: B
Post: First
Loadout: Cruciatus Blade | Saber Vambrace V2.0 | Tazi Executioner Armor Mk-I | RL-40 Stun Net Launcher | Thraxis Pistolas | Darth Bane Robes |
Allies: Purple Rejects x10

Bang. Boom. Boing. This strange cacophony of noise and a flailing of muted colour rolled throughout the landscape of Thraxis room. Dredd. It was for all purposes, a terrible name for a planet. His was called Graveyard, but that was more or less out of his control. He called his City Dar'Manda. Cooler name than Dredd, or Graveyard. But he lost himself to thought, the edge was simply another facet of life and if anything could be defined as 'edgy' Thraxis was most certainly 'edgy'.

But in his room, that he ordered a few days prior. He rolled and made a commotion, straps snapping, armour attaching and attire adorned. Then it came, a small machine bubbled and rolled out a deep mist of black as he took leave of his ransacked room. His face was jaded and hidden behind a veneer of thick Phirik, the sound of heavy breaths rolling between his strut and stride. Around his armour his newest addition. A Sith's robes. Some old sith, Bane or something, just as edgy as naming a planet Dredd as far as he was concerned, but the thing leaked Dark Energies like he leaked booze and in his new state he had started to become quite well adapted to his new bathrobes and the dark side energies. Working theory was if he became completely climatized to being drenched in the stuff, he would either die or become immune to Sithy magics. Attached to beneath the Robes but atop his armour. Dancing on propped fingers his Pistolas rolled and danced, swapping between each respective Finger as in a holster his Cruciatus Blade sat waiting patiently if ever he was properly disarmed.

He strolled out of the building, a small bundle of a coin flipped and tossed to the barkeeper's way. He looked around, coughing as his newest associates rose to attention in dilapidated fashion, poor quality blasters in hands, wicked smiles that belied inexperience and the freshness of youth peeping their steep as Thraxis with an air of mystery and off-put mania drew their attention, a wide smile splitting his face beneath the Phirik mask as he brought his wrist to his mouth, contacting the main HQ with a cough and ill-spoken words warped by the transmission and mask but mannerisms remained true. "Echo Echo, one niner this is Falcon Super Dad and his little Joey's reporting in. Requesting appropriate assistance to deal with the... uh..." He paused, bringing the hand to the transmission that did nothing to hide his voice, "Crap, who are we dealing with again? Names?" The group around him shook his head, confusion replacing the inexperienced glee as Thraxis gave a sigh. This is what you get for drinking on the job and trusting Rookies with anything.

He gave a sigh, putting his transmission down and looking over the motley crew of vagabonds and druggers. "Really? First mission together and you couldn't even catch the names? What do you lot have to say for yourselves?" He responded exacerbated as a single one rose his hands to break the monotony of silence that had befallen the group.

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"Ah, in all fairness captain." The young lad spoke up, some Transdoshan that had managed to learn semi clear English. No repeated S's at the very least, he gave a gesture with a raising hand, looking at the crew with laughter prior to turning to the captain with a youthful defiance, deathstick in-between his Teeth and all. Thraxis wasn't a drug aficionado but was fairly certain that wasn't how they were used. "You didn't even remember their names. What sort of captain w- Oh I'm sorry. You wanna be called Falcon Super Dad." He paused, taking a step forward as the rest of the crew chuckled in unison, as if the Captain had just been foiled.​

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Than came an almost cataclysmic drop in the air as Thraxis rushed forward, the cloaks covering the movement of his feet and the noise of the bar and clattering of a table being moved by the sheer force of speed Thraxis donned behind him as he stood a hair's breath away, a dark chill filling the bowels of the Trandoshan as Thraxis snatched the Deathstick from his jaws, the air saturated with an ill mix of Alcohol and Dark side as the Trandoshan struggled to keep the defiance. "No Deathsticks on mission." He spoke with sunken glee as he stomped it down, whatever substance inside spilling onto the floor as he looked him dead in the eyes, his gaze shifting between everyone without moving his head. It was how they felt nothing more. "As for the defiance. I like it, keep it." He gave a flick to the Trandoshans head, turning around with a sigh as he pulled the communicator back, every drop of noise radiating to the command or whoever listened. "Anyway. Just joshing ya as the kids say. No, we are ready to engage the Rocket City Racketeers, Nova City Angels and Cheshire's Children. Anyone who wishes to join, look for the Delinquents with the man in Black Robes at the Golden Spittle." He sighed, flicking communication off. He didn't look to his crew, he felt he had brought enough of an atmosphere to quell that sort of insubordination. "Abeloth. First, the Purple Rejects, now Rocket City Racketeers, Nova City Angels and Cheshire's Children. Where do you people get such ridiculous names? I imagine rejected stripper Names." He sighed, a foot kicking the table back into place upright as Thraxis dropped, wood bending and waining under the weight of his armor as he crossed his legs, twiddled his fingers and scrapped deathstick off his boots while his motley crew took back to sitting down, begrudged at how they were shown up and sullen to talk to their captain again.

 

[Ravenfire]

Objective B
Allies: [member="Thraxis"]
Loadout: sk-ul-armor, wendigo-4d1



Post: 1
Dan was in his armour and ready to roll. Looking at Thraxis who he had been assigned to. As the Zeltron was speaking to the clearly inexperienced trandoshan. Dan quietly sat watching, they had seriously forgotten to assign names to themselves. Before hearing what the groups names where. Really even I could come up with better names than that. I mean seriously. Then he heard Thraxis call them rejected stripper names. Dan began laughing at that. "No sir, even the strippers thought they were outrageous sir." Then saying "Just in case you forgot sir my name is Dan Tray."

 

[Salij-Nekt]

Objective: B
Allies: [member="Dan Tray"] [member="Thraxis"]
Post: 1
Loadout: Pole-axe and Modified Armor

Armed with the pole-axe and the force the Anubian was prepared for a fight. And one, it shall have. It came upon a human in some kind of speech...or something like a speech. He stood off towards the back, eyeing his allies about. Salij could get used to working with such folk. Even if they were not so tasteful for him. Then another human spoke up, and Salij looked to them. But, the executioner remained silent. So there were three gangs for them to take on. Plenty of enemy combatants. Lifting his bladed end, Salij-Nekt moved a thumb along the sharp edge. He never let it go dull, ever.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Team: Strike Team
Posts: 1
Allies: [member="Darth Tacitus"]
Objective: Deploying from Orbit

Mysteries, gods, and an ancient artifact, oh my.

Celeste stood aboard the the shuttle, staring out into space as they began the landing. Her mind was far off, taking the planet in, allowing the Force to go forth from her, swallowing the information she could deduct from it. She had never heard of the planet before, but that was perfectly sensible considering she had spent centuries shut off from the galaxy while growing up and training on Dathomir. Now, though... This planet had a History, the kind that came with a capital H. They didn't need to be far from landing before she could sense them, the bones within the earth, in numbers that no peaceful society would have ever gathered.

For a moment, she pondered whether it was a shame that she had never specialized in the various arts of Necromancy. Surely, individuals with such skills would be an asset on such a mission. Yet she was not, for her strength lay within nature itself. A true daughter of Dathomir, it was the earth that spoke to her, the air, the water, and sometimes even the fire. And she listened, oh, she listened well.

As the shuttles were emptied out, Celeste merely followed the crowds, moving to where she was instructor. Military tactics were not her strength either, but she had been around for long enough to know when it was time to heed orders. And in a situation like this, she could easily predict, orders would be heeded until the late game. That was how long she believed order would reign before the chaos seeped in, before common sense ceased being so common just for long enough to wreak havoc upon those who were there.

"The earth weeps tears of blood and bone," she sighed, putting up her mental blocks. Now that her bare feet touched the ground, she would require a little power to keep the planet from screaming its pain into her mind. "If we hurry, perhaps a shred can still be saved."

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #2​

Attn: [member="Celeste Cavataio"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"]​

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• Strike Team Mission
  Deploying From Orbit, Planet Dredd

"Alpha Wolf, this is Wolfpack. Ground units reporting heavy resistance in Dark Zone sections five through to twenty-one," the voice spoke over the comlink as the Overlord breathed in the stench of death and decay around him. Raising the device up to his face, he responded with a chilling order. "Copy that, Wolfpack. Pull our troops back from those sections, then commence orbital bombardment. No survivors are to be allowed. Glass them," he said, his tone calm and indifferent, as if the resulting death did not bother him in the least.

Above the planet, the massive fleet assembled in orbit opened fire, blaster bolts and kinetic slugs streaming through the atmosphere, raining a miniature apocalypse on the targeted sections, slowly but surely reducing the decrepit neighborhoods to puddles of molten metal and glass, a swift, cruel fate for whatever defenders had put up such heavy resistance in those sections of the district.

Nodding to the witch beside him, he closed his eyes, lifting his left arm, fingers splayed out like claws, he reached out through the Force, gathering the Darkside currents around him, breaking them to his will, like a slavemaster broke his thralls, then sent them out. He spoke in a gutural, foreign language, the words spat out, filled with hatred.

"Nemrath ajthra necro dakarathu, imrath rash thaya. Nemrath khemarra!" the Overlord spoke, commanding the Darkness to reach out beyond the veil and rip the souls of the dead from their place of eternal rest, forcing them back into bodies that expired long ago. Slowly, a swirling mass of shambling creatures clawed their way out of the ground. Five, then ten, then twenty, their movements jerky and tortured, as the very air around the landing area was filled with a bone-chilling cold that somehow felt fundamentally wrong.

When the Sith Lord's eyes opened, they burned with cold hatred. "I am Darth Tacitus, Overlord of the Shrouded Republic," he spoke into the dark, misty cityscape around him, as if announcing his presence to the very planet itself, his voice echoing unnaturally, carried by the Force. "Even death bends to my will."

From inside one of the decrepit buildings, a group of ragged, oddly-dressed people ran out, screaming in panic. Their screams soon changed into screams of pain, as Tacitus' undead abominations tore them apart.

 

[Riamah]

Location: Dredd
Objective: A
Post: 1
Companion: [member="Mercutio"]

The red head was in the Shrouded Republic and lead of their intelligence. It wasn't often she was called on to provide anything more than information. Today though, a request was given to her to an election went off without a hitch. By that, it meant Ra and her apprentice needed to what was needed to accomplish this. She was also an assassin and was training Merc to be one as well.

It might seem odd she most often wore a business façade, but that came down when that business was being sith. Such was the case today. Several people were in line to be elected that were friendly to their cause. Others were in the way of the election. It was their job here on Dredd to make sure these dissents weren't able to make their opinions be too widely known and get the people they had picked into position for take over.

She wore a confident look and explained to her apprentice his role in this. For now they would be working separately, but for the same goal. Two people, Branda Nere and Korlen Hagui needed to be apprehended, held and silenced. Just how that was accomplished would be up to Ra and Merc...

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

Dredd​

Liberty District 1​

22:00 Local time​

Objective A​

The rain fell with a consistent, endless plotter, pooling up on the well lit streets. Very few walked around at this time of day, except perhaps, those trying to rig an election. Shroud Lyra Sarn made her way down the street, the gas mask like headpiece obscuring her face, and a duster furher obscuring even that feature. She was making her way to a very particular storage warehouse, not one that stored goods, but one that stored voting machines. Her mission was incredibly simple, upload a virus into these voting machines that would make it appear that certian candidates had won over others. These were candidates which were amenable to the Shrouded Republic and the Ancient Eye of course.

The warehouse had very few in the way of exterior guards, activating a thermal lens on her helm she identified two that she had to be worried about. There didn't even appear to be any security drones, for something as critical as voting machines these were not well guarded; there had to be a catch. There was always a catch.

She made her way to a dark obscured part in the fence-line around the building, drawing out a laser cutter from her coat. Using it, she quietly cut through the chainlink fence, before finally slipping into the compound. This was far too easy so far. Now all she had to do was slip into the entirely unguarded back door. The heavy rainfall covering her footsteps. The two guards out front never even saw her move in.

The backdoor was a standard security door with a very generic lock, a Securitech-IQ-256, it had numerous well documented and easily exploitable security weaknesses. Among those an exposed data port.

She stuck her wrist computers datajack into the port and within 2 seconds the door blinked a green light and popped open. She was in, now came the hard part, actually finding and hacking the voting machines, especially without being caught.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: B
Post: Second
Loadout: Cruciatus Blade | Saber Vambrace V2.0 | Tazi Executioner Armor Mk-I | RL-40 Stun Net Launcher | Thraxis Pistolas | Darth Bane Robes |
Allies: Purple Rejects x10 | [member="Dan Tray"] | [member="Salij-Nekt"]

Thraxis snapped a leg up, it seemed the reinforcements they were to be given were already here, muddled and mixed between the Purple Rejects. If he saw race he might have noticed the difference. Specifically the Eight-Foot tall behemoth of a cat standing with a Pole axe in hand. Another of the vagrants that stood out was one with some actual armour. At least, something useful. The rest had at best layers of thick cloth while this one came adorned in armour that done nothing less than making him stand out in the squad. But with that lot out of the way, he hoped maybe someone would enter with a flashy entrance. Maybe a fog machine or a Confetti Cannon. For ten minutes he waited for that flamboyant trainwreck to enter. It never came.

His legs uncrossed as he pulled himself atop the table with lazed care, unnatural movement as he swung up like some vampire perching from its coffin. He looked at the backwater rejects that had surrounded his presence. He hoped for more but with what they were gonna be dealing with it wasn't prudent. He had dealt with this sort of stuff a dozen times before, he just had to remember the Dossier. "Rightyo. Looks like us seldom few have been ordained by... I dunno whatever guy is in charge of this mission. We gotta deal with some gangs. So. In case yall didn't know, the Golden Spittle is just a hop skip and away from the Chesire's Children's mainstay base of operation. The Lavish Latrine." He paused shaking his head, it felt as if children were in charge of naming these things, it was no wonder so few people had been assigned. They had been assigned the butt of the joke. "Now then. All we gotta do is assisnate. Did they say religious Indoctrination as well? Yeah, we're gonna skip that, leave that for the priests. Also replacing ones in charge?" His shoulders rolled halfway, open palms in confusion, "I dunno. Yo Trandoshan, grab another two of yous. You will become puppet leaders, do what ya told ta and when it comes time. We snatch them into the Purple Rejects and expand." He paused, looking over giving everyone a chance to respond before snapping his fingers, pointing to the door and pushing forward, the table falling down under the movement of weight as with once more, the unnatural ease of some unholy thing he moved with the grace of a wild tiger, slipping onto the floor with the utmost ease and not a word spoken as from a yellow Duffel bag he dragged behind hium, propping it up and over his shoulder he pulled out a small clip on bow-tie, fixing it to his cloak and hoping the rest would follow him.

On borrowed time he found the place. A cacophony of colour and lights radiated in dancing patterns, it was as if the night sky was illuminated by these little brats as Thraxis took a few steps forward. The purple rejects were dressed for this but held their guns ready as Thraxis approached the front door. A bouncer, Gammorean of ilk and as bog standard as they got. And with half a mind to as he pointed to the cavalcade of rejecting Hollywood Mafioso's behind him, the Cat Man with the Enormous Pole between his hands and the man dressed more or less for war in his armour. Thraxis was taken out instantly, no-one liked Sith Lords. He wasn't amongst them, but with the robes and the unmissable tendrils of evil that rolled off him, it was a fair enough guess.

He walked up to the Gammorean, the thing snorting as a blast of hot air rolled onto his armour with the stench of rot, Thraxis, reeling his knee beneath the robes backwards as he pulled from his duffel bag his RL-40, twisting the Charge to Gammorean as it swung low, trying to catch it as Thraxis backed nkee rolled forward, catching the Gammoreans gut, propping the gun underneath his body and unlaunching a net that in the matter of a second, unlatched, caught and attached the pig man to the roof of the entrance. They weren't going to be around long enough for this to cause troubles, the night was late, those who were coming had already come and those who were leaving were already drunk. "right, move in, scope out the location. Purple Rejects, secure as a way out. Cat Man, War Dude, you two are to flank me. If I am guessing right, this Mafioso punk dude would be in the middle of it all, half drunk, half blazed and halfway to death's door. Move in." He raised two fingers, bouncing in a bunny-eared fashion, "Persuade him" and then dispatch of him. I will insert a Reject into their ranks to start slipping through. Good plan?" He turned around, hands clasped as a few people wandered out, blazed baked and stoned as they walked past, not paying much attention to the group or the Stunned Gammorean as Thraxis clasped his plans. "Nah, your right great plan." His arms rose, bending at ninety degrees at his elbow and pointing forward with a click as they made their way into, the... Lavish... Latrine.

 

[Ravenfire]

Objective B
Allies: [member="Thraxis"] [member="Salij-Nekt"]
Loadout: sk-ul-armor, wendigo-4d1
Excellent they were on their way now, felt good to be ready to do something. He had always been on the run and now he was the hunter. He laughed the man in charge was straightforward and to the point. "Religious indoctrination glad we don't have to do that anymore what a waste of fresh clean air." He said quite amused. "I like the idea of replacing them with your own men making yourself more important is always a good idea, means they keep you around longer."

Following behind the man they found the place. why the gang had chosen this place was beyond him, then again it made it easy for them to get in. A gammorean guard could these gangs get anymore cliche. It was like going after the lesser version of a hutt cartel honestly he would be glad when they killed the leader. That is when Thraxis hit the gammorean and then strung him to the roof, he was going to get along well with this man he could feel it, he laughed "Nice one Boss man." Then when the man called him war dude "I like it I am going to keep that name, I am ready when you are can't wait to kill the idiot behind all this." "Great plan, now can I go in and kill him?" After that he entered the Lavish Latrine what a bad name.

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A
Liberty District 1-Following [member="Lyra Sarn"]

Cybernetic espionage, not really Formorta forty, more of a keep certain people silent, take out certain targets anti-spy operations, that sort of thing, not so much technically fiddling. Never the lest it was the most recent assignment and she was not going to pass up this task just because it was not her expertise. The apply now ranked Shroud title seemed to fit her well, slinking silently through the city streets, a small shimmer in the air eluding to a presence of some sort, but never around for more the second, going from roof top to roof top.

Now she was merely giving cover to Lyra as the woman looked for ways entrances into the polling room, a way that did not involve a body or someone suddenly going missing. So far everything had goon well, the pink haired woman finding a back-door haft hazily locked, the slicer easily opening it with her equipped... perhaps to easily, the local government would not be that careless. Even if it did not turn out to be a trap Formorta was still not taking any chances, a small muffled thud coming from behind the slicer as the masked assassin temporarily revealed her presence, something she did not do unless necessary.

"... something feels off, it should not be this easy... even for you... I suggest we take caution form here on out”, without waiting for a reply the masked woman once again vanished from sight, though not from one’s ears, able to hear anything that came from her comrade’s mouth. After all it was supposed to be a joint operation not a solo one.

 

[Salij-Nekt]

Objective: B
Allies: [member="Dan Tray"][member="Thraxis"]
Post: 2
Loadout: Pole-axe and Modified Armor

The Anubian stood there, awaiting something to happen. Then finally they all started moving. Really Salij hadn't heard much, only listening to who the targets were, where they were and how they would be dealt with. His grip tightened around his pole-axe before slinging it over his back and moving off to follow. When called 'Cat-Man' his lip curled up, before going back down and no longer glaring in their direction. The Anubian followed into the place that it had already forgotten the name of after the bouncer had been stunned. The one that had been named 'War Dude' seemed to like his own name, and was most excited for action.

 

[Rath Exigo]

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[-SOUNDTRACK-]​

Post #1​

Attn: To whom it may concern​

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• Objective C
  Dark Zone, Planet Dredd

"Reaper One, this is Wolfpack," the comms officer announced, breaking through to the cockpit of the T-77 "Talon" stealth interceptor that was preparing to launch, within the belly of the much feared battlecruiser that was the flagship of the Shrouded Republic. "New orders. Dark Zone sections five to twenty-one are now off-limits and subject to orbital bombardment. Your new coordinates are sections twenty-two to thirty, over."

The Anubian pilot's hand darted out to the switch that controlled his fighter's comlink. "Wolfpack, this is Reaper One, copy. Orders received, we are deploying to mission area," he answered, before changing channels. "Reaper Squadron, this is Reaper One. New orders. We are to deploy to the coordinates I am beaming you right now, same mission parameters as before. Eliminate all resistance. Support our ground forces. Intel is sketchy and we don't know much about what we will find in the Dark Zone, so stay sharp and watch for anti-air fire. Reaper One, out."

Like deadly, silent birds of prey, the eight T-Wings of Reaper Squadron emerged from the belly of the great starship which brought them here and swooped down towards the planet. "Go radio silent, break formation and engage," ordered Exigo, the commander of the squadron. "Long live the Shrouded Republic."

The eight fighters broke into four pairs, diving through the atmosphere and firing their first salvo of air-to-ground missiles at their respective targets. The planet below them was already burning due to the orbital bombardment and soldiers were already deploying. The subjugation of the Dark Zone had begun.

 

[Mercutio]

Job: Objective A
Place: Dredd
Team: @Ra'a'mah

Mercutio heard what his Mistress @Ra'a'mah had to tell about their newest mission. He agreed that the best idea would be to split up and secure / eliminate both targets simultaneously. He also agreed to take care of Branda Nere, as female targets were easier for him to get close to..
After confirming his targets last known whereabouts and their current coordinates Merc quickly took off on foot. His usual attire of skin tight leather pants and military boots made it easy to maneuver through the alleys and backstreets of any city, and was not hard for him to blend in with 'the people' if need be, though sometimes he would gain too much attention among the femalefolk.

It didn't take him long though to reach his initial destination, quickly running straight up the backside of the building to the roof, his face quickly becoming hidden as he slipped on his silver mask, just as he dived down into an air shoot.
His dive was graceful, and though it was loud his landing was equally skilled. As soon as his half naked body broke out of the air duct the two guards that stood watch outside a set of double doors began to raise their blaster rifles and attempted to raise alarm,
but they fell silent as Mercutios golden shoto saber strapped to forearm cleaved through them with no issue.
From the other side a females voice called out

"What was that?"

Merc slowly eased the bodies down to the floor

"Sounded like something went bantha side up in the conditioning system. I'll get a guy to check it out."

Silence followed, but then was broken as the female voice came again.

"Get Chavard'is to take a look at it, he used to do maintenance.. I think."

After stashing the bodies in a nearby closet, and narrowly escaping the eyes of another set of hall patrolling guards, Mecutio returned to the double set of doors, quickly making his way through them at a running speed.
He burst through the doors and swung himself into a roll, as he rose out of it he lept through the air and landed a few feet in front of his female target, who wore a signature lapel pin and had a tale-tale birthmark on her neck.
With bravado Merc removed his mask and took a bow. Branda stared at him both stunned and curious. But not at all worried.

"Good Afternoon Ms. Nere. I have been sent to collect you"

Mercutios tone and stature resembled that of a ring leader announcing the nights festivities

"Oh my, and who put you up to this? It was Dahlia right? What all did that little minx's money buy me and for how long?"

She asked, assuming, as many have, that Mercutio was a form of sex worker.

"Ms. Nere, my apologies, but I know nothing of this 'Dhalia' person. I have been sent by my Mistress. I did not ask who sent her and by association, me, as I don't care nor am I in the position to ask such things. We will be leaving post haste, to a secure location where you will most likely be silenced and an story for your untimely death fabricated."

The look on the womans face turned from one of excited curiosity to one of sheer panic as she realized what was to be.
However, before she could do anything save turn away to attempt to escape / call for help, Mercutios left leg went spiraling through the air to crash into the base of her neck, knocking her to the floor, heavily unconscious

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

Dredd​

LD1 Election Commission Warehouse​

00:08:00 Mission Elapsed Time (MET)​

Objective A​

Attn: [member="Formorta"]​

An insecure lock was not out of the ordinary, governments preferred cheap and easy solutions that make it look like they have secured something rather than a robust solution that actually secures something. However the lack of physical guards was even more suspicious. You don't normally leave the back door unguarded and only put two guards on the front door. The invasion wasn't supposed to start for a bit longer, they had no way of knowing they were coming, unless of course they had a mole.

Lyra slipped her way through the open door into a very well lit, very clean hallway. It was incredibly clean. That is when she heard the quiet thud of a silencer outside, if somebody wasn't paying attention they wouldn't hear a thing. More than good enough

"I have that feeling too, there is not not enough security here. Buuuuuut, then again, where is the fun in a cake walk?" She said over the commlink.

She quickly checker her coat, revealing her Deathrattle hard sound carbine, a silenced slugthrower, a vibroknife, and numerous grenades and gadgets attached either to her armor or the inside of the coat. If things went bad she would be very well prepared.

She slowly made her way down the hallway trying not to be seen, all seemed to be going well, she was getting closer and closer to the central server. Thats when things started to go bad.

As she reached the end of the first hallway Lyra saw something move in the corner of her eye. It was a glimmer, but it was there. Lyra stopped moving entirely, slowly moving her finger towards a button on the side of her mask. This button measured light refraction, and once she did, she saw it. It was watching, waiting. Lyra slowly moved for the Deathrattle in her coat. It was loud but it was the only thing she had that could deal with this sort of thing.

As her hand finally grasped the deathrattle, she attempted to quickly draw it for a blast at the thing, but instead it decloaked and charged at her immediately. It was a stealth droid. It leaped at her with an electronic screech but she was able to blast the thing before it got her. However the loud explosive noise that resonated through the building. The droid was out of commission however. It was a long tall thing, with blades embedded in its arms, it hid in the shadows before leaping at them to pounce and slit out their throats.

However despite the noise no alarm went off, nothing. It was as if nobody was even there. What was going on here, that was the question.

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A
Liberty District 1-Following [member="Lyra Sarn"]

Cake walks, she never understood that phrase, where cakes easy to walk on? seemed rather slippery if one where to ask herself. Never the least she understood what the woman's meant, and agreed, there was nothing fun about an easy job like this, seemed like a waste of good skill that could be better suited else where.

It would also mean the small arsenal of weapon Formorta brought with her would be for naught, the usual vibroblades, silences duel slug-pistols and a classic Ol-2 series sniper rifle, still useful in CQC when in the right hands. Last but not least a pair of thermal and ion detonators, just herself alone able to arm a small squad.

Entering the room Formorta stuck to the ceiling, scuttling across it's smooth surface like a spider, another nick name that people started to associate with the masked assassin. Soon though something strange came up, her suits holographic HUD showing some strange anomaly nearby, perhaps not very noticeable to a regular person but Formorta was not an ordinary person.

Instantly she realized that something nearby was cloaked in stealth camo, knowing full well how they operated, how to detected them and the dangers they posed, what came as a real problem was the 'things' speed. It moved faster then she could react, a droid of some sorts, had to be machine, the theory being proved true as Lyra manged to get a very, very large sounding shot off.

The tight hallways echoing the sound easily, heck she wouldn't have been surprised if the garuds out front heard, though no alarm, came, not blaring lights, not even an indication of a silent warming... no it couldn't have been. Turing around quickly the hallway behind them seemed to shut all of a sudden, the very walls closing in, Formorta curing to herself mentally.

"... it's a trap"

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Objective: Strike Team Mission: Recover Artifact
Post: 1
Wearing: This

She boarded the shuttle behind the redheaded Witch and the Sith Lord, emerald eyes gazing upon the woman who looked nothing like the girl her daughter had told her of so long ago and yet, the Force didn't lie. She was, without a doubt, a Cavataio. History between the deWinters and Cavataio was complicated and so mixed, one required a whole board to explain everything from her own relationship with Angelo, to her Mother both teaching and learning from Celeste's mother, to her sister being an honorary member of the Morte clan and the pact between Endelaan and Dathomir and it only just went on, the way they connected, bit by bit. It was a wonder how she still recalled all the details herself with her busy days.

The other woman spoke of the earth weeping tears of blood and bone, of them needing to hurry to save a piece of it. Asteria felt something quite different as they approached. Darkness and danger swept through the Sith Lard unwelcomed and yet potent. Equally inviting and threatening to her as fire opened around them downward and beside her, the Sith Lord emersed himself into the Force, empowering him. The Mistress of Elements didn't prepare, not surrounded by the metal. Though she had been taught a great many things in her childhood, more by her own Mother than anyone else, her natural abilities connected to the ground, the air, the waters beneath above and the eternal flames waiting to be formed at her command. Here, she merely waited, her sense feeling the taste of power just beneath her fingertips. And the closer the shuttle came, the more her connection to it all grew.

Vessel landed and the troops began boarding out, soldier after soldier, before she too had come out, inhaling a deep silent breath as she took in the nature of the planet called Dredd. She could almost taste the pollution against her nostrils, making her wince not for the smell but for those who had done this. Even if Coruscant was in many ways her home, the more she could feel worlds, the more Asteria rejected the pollution. "A waste," she quietly had said before the Sith Lord had gone so far as to name himself, stating death bent to his will while he was heavy in his working through the Force. The hatred was once more palpable as he worked, her emerald gaze shifting to the sound of the screams in the distance. It was a remarkable display, lady deWinter would admit to this. ,

Though capable of immense hatred herself, Asteria had learned to calm and numb out emotions that could easily be her undoing so long ago. No one deserved her hatred more than those that partially shared her blood and yet not completely. Freaks, mudbabies, the monster had spawned those mudbabies. It was an unhealthy list at best and yet, now, the rush of darkness and hatred spilling from the Sith Lord was a power inspiring her own. Sitting at a table with a Mandalorian even one who was adopted Cavataio had done this to her. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of her hatred by inflicting pain on others that the darkness built within her as well as she watched the man work.

From another damaged building, more panic spread as the fearful ran out further to the side of the undead, the sight of the flesh tearing scaring them further. The enery inside the Sith Mistress continued to build with intent, her emerald irises shivering with darkness as she looked towards them, energy building inside her. Slowly, Asteria had taken a few steps forward as the built up inside her reached its peak, drowning all sounds around her. Silence. It all rushed to a single sensation, ready, as her arms abruptly shook, releasing a destructive wave of energy to the ones who had intended to escape the undead. Perhaps they would them, but not the energy Lady deWinter unleashed on them. It spread, rapidly rushing towards her targets. Panic that had become fear now quickly became to horror as the some of them vaporized against the massive energy while those just at the edges of its range got knocked out.

Asteria exhailed a sharp breath, feeling the darkness escaping her finally, only a clear ice sharped mind as it should have been, disrupted by her own energy taken to use the power. Yet, the woman knew exactly what her next move was as she eyed one of the man who had escaped, intent on using his life to recharge herself.

[member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Celeste Cavataio"]​

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

Dredd​

LD1 Election Commission Warehouse​

00:10:00 Mission Elapsed Time (MET)​

Objective A​

Attn: [member="Formorta"]​

Things could have gone better, but they definetly could have gone worse. Just as she was recovering from the recoil of firing the deathrattle, she realized that there was a rather loud mechanical whirring noise as the walls started to slowly close in around them. Luckily Formorta decloaked at just the right time to get trapped in this mess. But really, slow crushing walls? Could it get more cliche, next thing she expected to see was a small bald man coming out from behind the wall laughing maniacally declaring his plans to take over the world. It could not get any more cliched.

"You are going to have to try harder than that." She said to the most likely present cameras.

She started charging her way towards the door at the end of the hallway before drawing a small device from her coat, she slugged the thing across the room, the device sticking to the door before starting to beep rapidly. Just on time the device went off, blowing the door wide open. Lyra ran through the door hoping her comrade was following close behind. However things went quickly awry from there, as the very dark room was slowly illuminated with dozens of glowing red eyes. Battledroids, B2 model, this was very bad. Very bad.

Lyra grabbed the deathrattle and started blasting away at the large droids, luckily they seemed rather weak to the power of the weapon, but there were a lot of them, meaning that Lyra had to keep bumbling about at high speed through the dark to avoid being slammed with a blaster bolt. Lyra switched to thermal vision to help with this endeavor, but it still was not perfect. Hopefully she would make it out of the next phase in this gauntlet alive.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Team: Strike Team
Posts: 2
Allies: [member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="Darth Tacitus"]
Objective: Not roll eyes too hard

When she'd said they could still save a shred, this was not what she had meant. The darkness around the Witch spread forth and multiplied, and she needed to raise her personal mental barriers slightly higher. She could feel the desire and the passion rising from those around her who adhered to the teachings of the Sith, yet she could not share such raw hunger and delight at what was being done.

Herself, she would have raised the ground around the area, capturing those inside her. She was certainly powerful enough to do so without it costing her too much, yet the one who had raised the skeletons had more experience on the field than she did, and had therefore known to move much faster than she usually would have. Death, destruction, decay. Those three words who'd often enough been played by other members of the Cavataio line and their allies, yet not by her. Where others looked for death, Celeste often preferred life.

Her preferences, however, were very much dwarved, now that she had chosen to join the Ancient Eye and help a hunt for a Sith artifact that was spread across the galaxy in bits and pieces.

While she was not attuned to the Darkside in any way, she was sufficiently attuned to the Force in more ways than one. With a sigh, she crouched down, her bare hands now touching the ground too. She did not protect them as she had her feet, for here she had to know, had to feel, had to sense the quiet beat of the Force and all that tugged and pulled to it. She shut the voices and the screams out of her mind, shut the presence of her cousin, with whom she would have loved to have tea with, and merely focused.

Usually, this went easier. But there was something elusive here, she could sense. How it once beat and called to her, and then the next moment tried to hide, first in plain sight and then away from her tendrils as she spread her presence on the planet through the Force. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she continued to concentrate, spreading her existence now into the ground itself, her abilities to sense rocks and natural things going through it, following the patterns, searching for that one place where such a piece of an artifact would surely cause an anomaly. Jedi could not truly claim to encourage life, not in her eyes. But the Sith could not deny their destruction of it more often than not.

"There," she finally said, her voice hoarse, "the piece lies to that direction."

It took effort to get up, yet she did so unassisted, brushing her hands against each other. Hopefully, this would over soon, and she could return to her place in the forest, and rest. She had not yet done much with the Ancient Eye, but what was clear to her, was that her involvement with them would require every ounce of energy she had to give.