Dominion Where Eagles Dare | Dominion of Oben | NIO

[Tavius Muuaji]

OBJ 1

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​

Tavius descended from his rock outcropping, hopping down the short incline, rock to rock before he hit the rocky plateau to converge on the corpses of the ritualists.

Walking amongst the corpses, he kicked bodies, ensuring they were dead before nudging them over onto their backs and crouching down to rummage through their belongings. "Hm." The Storm Commando hums before raising back up. Gaze traveling to the bound Kaleesh. Tavius was already certain where this was going, but he didn't stop the man.

There was no point in doing so.

"Me? No. You just killed our only source."

Nearby in the distance, a cry went up in the air, and another in a different direction answered.
Sinestra

 

[Sinestra]

OBJ 1

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​

"Me? No. He was already dead."

A series of cries cut through the air and Arno stirred up from the no-blink contest with the dead Kaleesh. It was certain that the commando would've won that competition.

Alas, there was work to be done.

He wiped his vibrodagger at the rags of the corps and put the blade back in its sheath.

"The hell was that?"
Tavius Muuaji

 

[Tavius Muuaji]

OBJ 1

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​

I need a transfer.

Tavius shouldered his trusty charric rifle. Balanced on his shoulder, his head snapped from side to side in order to try and get a bead on the direction of the sounds.

"Could be coordinating a counter attack. We've got to find a more defendable position." Nodding in the direction that they had been heading. Their intel had said there was an encampment of hostiles that way. Undoubtedly the insurgent Kaleesh had found the corpses of their brethren. Likely regrouping. Tavius couldn't speak the language, impossible to know for sure, but something in his gut told him his assumption was right.

"Or we can take the fight to them."

Sinestra

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

BLUE-HEART BATTALION

OBJECTIVE 1: Unfinished Business

ALLIES: Adenn Munin Sinestra Tavius Muuaji Strain Isaiah Dax

Stepping away from the last of the dead Kaleesh warriors, the Lord-Major flicked the blood of the third and final creature off his scalpel before returning it to the toolbox under his arm, then passed the metal container back to his adjutant to stow away for another occasion. After trading the toolbox for the spying-devices he'd pulled from the roofs of his captive's mouths, Erskine then lifted the lens to the front of his own face, muttering,'You've seen some of my work, expect the same treatment.', before crushing each and every device under the heel of his boot. All the officers around him, though still fiercely-loyal to their Lord-Major, were taken completely aback by Major Barran's sheer lack of remorse for his actions; the strongest stomachs among them had turned by the end of the torture on their captives, so every subordinate was a touch paler by the time Erskine had stomped on their enemies' devices.

'Are we expected to torture our captives like that in the future, milord?'

'It's expected of you now, Josie.', Erskine replied calmly, leaning in as he pointed out the pensive looks on the faces of the other commissioned subordinates. Before the Lord-Major was done pointing out the pale, silent majority, he whispered,'Look at them, you can tell that every one o' them still has their own struggle with that fact.', as the young Leftenant tried his best to see the faces of the others. Silently dismissing the pale-faces, Major Barran held a cautionary hand up in front of his Leftenant's face, keeping Jorie on the spot as the others returned to standby in their vehicles. Waiting a moment longer, Erskine quietly looked to the night sky above them, before continuing,'You're the only one among the officer class who hasn't had to torture for information yet, but the day will come when there's nobody but you around to engage in it. And when that day comes, you'll be in the same pensive state as your commissioned peers; anticipating the day you'll have to inflict cruelty for a second time, whether it be for your own sake or for that of whoever's left of us by then.'

'Thought I'd have at least a few years before that would be required of me-'

'-If I were in your shoes, I'd be making note of how long you've been with us already.', the Lord-Major interrupted, putting the idiocy to one side so the real matter could be settled without any joke or quip getting in the way. Almost sneering at the childishness, it took Barran a moment to compose himself before making his final comment on the matter; this did not escape the Leftenant's notice, though Jorie knew his Lord-Major was correct in his near-grimace of disdain. Looking to the sky one last time, Erskine inhaled a hard intake of air through his nostrils, watching the moon with a sense of finality as he muttered,'Now,"A few", in my eyes, means,"Three", an' you're two years inti yer commission awready. Time ti step up, Leftenant. Yer obviously a fu'-bird noo, nae excuses next time around.'

'Aye, and where's the nearest Galactic Torture-Wholesaler to Oben? Surely the QM doesn't issue interrogation-tools like yours, let's be real here....'

​

​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

​

"Well, I'm glad I don't have to be planetside." Cotan glanced out a viewport from where he was waiting; he couldn't see details of what was happening from orbit, but he could sense enough—and beyond that, the ships constantly going back and forth from the vessel he was aboard made it clear even without the Force. Warfare and death, the imperials eradicating a rebel group down on the planet; two forces antithetical to each other, engaged in extermination.

In time, he hoped to see peace in his life, rather than the constant fighting he'd been thrown into since Utapau, when he'd broken out of his own self-imposed exile. Now, though, it was enough that he didn't have to throw himself into the thick of it on this planet. All the same, that might have been easier; he wasn't much of a diplomat, and that made the meeting he'd been asked for even more intimidating, in some sense.

He turned away as his name was called, letting himself be ushered through the door into the office where the meeting was to occur. Even as his eyes fell over the scarred man he was to speak with, though, Cotan had to suppress a small shudder. It wasn't the scars, the maiming, or any of that that bothered him; it was the way the Force avoided him, currents flowing around a void, the man's soul repelling the Force like oil and water.

"Imperator," Cotan started, breaking the short silence and giving a nod of his head. "Nice ship. Good view, pretty roomy for the sort. A lot more breathing room than any of the Sith SDs I've been on."

He let the inane comment hang in the air for another moment, before cracking a grin.

"But I don't imagine you asked me here just to show off your boat."

Irveric Tavlar

 

[Khaggon Graege]

to hate is to breathe

OBJECTIVE I: SUBJUGATION​

He brought the stock of the shotgun up harshly as the warrior approached him, metal slamming into bone mask, sending cracks through the material and the now bloodied berserker stumbling backwards. The crowd that had gathered, forming a circle around the pair, was chanting out cheers and jeers as the fresh drips of crimson began to dot the floor. Khaggon let the slugthrower rock in his grip ever so slightly as he kept up his circle step. He hardly expected anything of this Kaleesh, he had come from a clan that long ago had been disparaged by his kith and kin. There was no honor in fighting him, and thus, no shame in keeping the full set of storm armor on his person.

He was kind enough to not load the tool with shells, he was kind enough to have not taken this usurpers leg off with a blast of pellets the moment he ran into him, he was kind enough to give the man a form of spectacle before he died.

“False idol! Pretender Chief! The tribes will not bow to the Empire, to the New Ord-” Another swing of the shotgun, crunching bone as it slammed into the man’s shoulder. Causing his hand to seize up and the knife the man was holding in his off hand to drop to the ground. The fighting spear still firmly held in his main, however.

<”Then we will make you. Father demands your fealty. Lest the clan Jal Shol wishes to dishonor its Gods anymore than it has. You will kneel to me.”>

The Kaleesh of Jal Shol spat a tooth onto the ground, crunching it underfoot.

“I would rather die.”

Shame Khaggon thought to himself, reaching down, plucking a shell from his belt, placing it in the breach and wracking the shotgun.

 

[Bastard]

"No longer am I a reliable weapon, but a tool to be used in place of superior stock."

Tags: Open​

Errant marched through murky brown water, a sneer permanently etched into his statuesque face. His boots flooded with the brackish water. It clung to his body, chilling him to the bone. Small creatures darted away just beneath the surface. He paid them no mind. His assignment demanded his full attention. These radicals defied his empire. They stood before the law promised to the galaxy beneath New Imperial Rule. In an ironic twist of fate, those who defied would crush the defiant. None would halt their progress. Be it the Sith-Empire or backwater extremists, his blade would seal their fates in a flash of blood and pain.

"Varanin," a voice cut through the silence.

"What?" Errant asked.

"How far out are you from the enemy position?"

"Two klicks. Shouldn't take much longer to find their location and eliminate whatever filth resides within," the Albino's lips curled back at the sight of a serpentine creature slithering across the water away from him.

"Good. Over and out."

Silence returned to the marshland. Errant trudged on, his earlier sneer returning with the disappearance of whatever beast crossed his path. He carried on for several more minutes before slowly coming to a stop. Beyond the monotonous splashing caused by his march, he hadn't heard another sound. The earlier passage of whatever beasts resided within the marsh hadn't picked back up since he last spotted the serpent. Now cautious, he drew his blade from its sheath, the familiar scrape of metal on metal a welcomed intrusion to the absence of noise.

An eruption of liquid from beneath him blinded him as something burst from the mud. Two large hands gripped the Imperial and dragged him below the surface. Errant thrashed about wildly, fighting to be free of whatever took hold and would not let go. In the confusion, he found his blade torn from his grasp and cast away. The light faded from view as he was pulled deeper into the water, replaced by encroaching darkness that set in on all at once, blinding him completely.

 

[Sinestra]

OBJ 1

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​

"Yeah?"

Arno flipped his vibrodagger in the air, then brought his gun pointing up. His choice was clear.

"Don't think we've ever played defense."

He twisted the dagger under the gun's barrel and locked it tightly. Good ol' bayonet. The commando didn't even bother looking back at Tavius. He was rushing towards the barbaric cries, whether on his own or with his comrade mattered little.

If there were aliens which he truly hated - the Kaleesh truly were one of them.
Tavius Muuaji

 

[Tavius Muuaji]

OBJ 1

Tavius didn't rush after Arno.

Instead, he looked around at the carnage that was in their immediate proximity and shrugged to himself. Vibrosword attached to his hip, his shoulders raised up into a shrug before rolling his eyes.

Well maybe we ought to.

The Storm Commando was getting tired of running around chasing after aliens, Sith, and their cultists. Ever since that first day on Kalee things just got more and more weird. At least in the past there had been some kind of code that he could follow. Here, behind enemy lines? Pair up with this lunatic? They could do whatever they want -- and it wasn't in Tavius' job description to be babysitting Sinestra and making sure he didn't go out and do something stupid.

It was a lot easier to do the stupid thing than stop it.

Popping out the spent power cell, he withdrew another one and slotted it into the empty space. One last look around, and then he was jogging after Arno.

 

[Bastard]

"No longer am I a reliable weapon, but a tool to be used in place of superior stock."

Tags: Open
​

Dragged further and further beneath the surface, Errant lost all sense of direction. He spiraled every which way, the two bulbous hands wrapped around his body, finding little resistance, even as the Albino struggled for freedom. His chest began to burn from the overexertion and lack of oxygen. Panic prowled at the edge of his consciousness, patiently awaiting his break from control. With each passing second, he knew his chances for survival slipped further and further away. If the Knight was to live, he would have to act fast.

Errant pressed his hands against one of the arms. A surge of white lightning exploded from his fingertips. It curled around the creature's arm, coursing up its length. Sparking out in all directions, the Crestfallen could feel his hairs stand up on end as his body convulsed right alongside his assailant. Fighting through the pain, he did not let up. Streaks of lightning flashed out until he could smell the scent of cooked flesh beneath the water. When he felt the creature's grip weaken, the Albino pushed out from beneath its fingers, splashing about frantically. Unable to make sense of his surroundings, Errant curled up into a ball. His frazzled thoughts came back under his control as he summoned the Force to his aid. He thrust his limbs out in four directions in one explosive motion and released a burst of telekinetic energy.

The water gave way to open sky as it practically cratered around the Imperial Knight. He dropped deeper, landing with a grunt. Seeing the uneven earth at his side, Errant quickly leaped up the sloped mud and found himself back on his feet, away from the depths. A glance over his shoulder revealed the horrific creature slinking back into the water.

Four misshapen arms protruded from misplaced joints across an uneven, pockmarked torso. Sharp claws tipped each elongated finger. It appeared to walk upon two spindly legs. Thick muscles rolled beneath its greasy flesh. A gaping maw revealed twisted, yellowed teeth beneath a flat, round nose. A broad forehead gave way to thin strands of matted, dark hair. Two glassy eyes peered out at Errant, meeting the Albino's pink gaze before it disappeared entirely from view.

"Hmm," Errant reached out with a hand. Seconds later, his black blade soared through the air to land within his palm. Closing his fingers around the familiar hilt, he slowly backpedaled further up the murky slope, eyes flickering across the water's muddy surface.

 

[Rika Hiro]

Tags: Bastard

Priority one. . . .
Subject to be observed under COMPNOR directive. . . .
Terminate if proven threat to Order assets. . . .
Purge if proven ideologically subversive. . . .

Across from the albino and the murky water, one lone Atrisian woman stood observant. Watching the spectacle like it were a holonet play or some Coruscanti drama piece, she watched blankly, only occasionally looking away to type in notes on a datapad before tucking it in her coat pocket. She raised an eyebrow at the albino's display of skill with the blade, otherwise sparing no apparent hint of bemusement or emotion beneath the blank facade she carried so frequently. He was well known to them, and his profile in the organisation's databank was pretty revealing, to say the least, this Errant was one to resort to violence when it suited his... short term goals or superficial desires. Nevertheless, he proved of interest to Agent Yubari's superiors, and as such he was to be left for observation until further action deemed necessary.


"Having fun."


She called out nonchalantly. Looking over to where the creature was prior before turning her attention back to the albino Errant, taking out her datapad once more and typing a combination of codes into its algorithms. Asa could hear whatever it was moving out there among the midnight black water and sludge, watching and waiting. Truly a fascinating creature, the agency might need a DNA sample from the beast if feasible.

"I assume you have this thing under wraps, I do hope so, I didn't come out to this swamp to collect your remains."

Armed only with her agency issued blaster sidearm, the beast would've proved dangerous for her to deal with too. But Hrds didn't make the most appealing meal, especially not for swamp-dwelling creatures. It would've been like chewing on plastic. Most planetary predators tended not to notice her kind for that reason, Hrds didn't register as real prey.

 

[Bastard]

"No longer am I a reliable weapon, but a tool to be used in place of superior stock."

Tags: Rika Hiro
​

Errant briefly turned his head, eyes cast over his shoulder to Asa. He snapped back to the murky water at the sound of a nearby splash. He took note of an odd hole dug out beneath the surface. As he looked elsewhere, they became more apparent. Small creatures shifted between them as if acclimated to the bizarre marsh. He moved away from one, the sith blade held firmly in both hands. Eyes now locked on the horizon, he scanned from left to right, head tilted to the side as if listening for something in specific.

"You needn't worry yourself with such a task, stranger. This creature had one chance to kill me. It failed," he paused, his tight-lipped frown turned up into a knowing smile as the muck beneath his feet trembled. Much like before, an explosion of muddy water heralded a pair of two massive hands that exploded from where Errant stood only a split-second earlier. Now, the Black Knight crested the zenith of his jump, weapon held in a reverse grip just over his head. A third massive arm punched through the dirt, revealing the top of the bulbous beast's head as it thrashed about in search for Errant.

He descended through the air without uttering a word, his full focus on the monster below. Both feet sunk into the mud inches from its head, whereas the sharp, two-handed blade was buried well over a foot into the creature's thick skull. It screamed in pain, all three exposed limbs flailing chaotically in its death throes. Errant withdrew the weapon when it finally stopped moving. A gout of blood shot out from the gaping hole in its head, dissipating into the dirty water within seconds. He wiped the blade across his cloak, sheathed it, and turned back to her.

"And now, it suffers for its mistakes," he turned northward and began his march anew. "Which of the Empire's branches do you belong to, woman? You are no Knight, and you lack common trooper's armaments. Perhaps one of the Empire's more dubious organizations?"

He hadn't waited to see if she followed.

 

[Loros Kalaric]

OBJECTIVE II​

“This is Laigrek-3, approaching a bug’s nest, over.” Loros spoke over coms. The pounding of the AT-SAT’s feet sending visible shockwaves as he moved through the woodlands. Trees falling through the path and being crunched into bark and dust underneath the large feet and weight of the walker. The radar in his top right corner of his rig blinking a yellow dot at the outer sectors of the Yam’rii hive. There was to be proper diplomacy, of course, but he was informed that this was simply nothing more than a distraction for the armored corps and infantry to position themselves for an… investigation as it were of the bug’s activities in the region.

“Read you Laigrek-3, closing into your position.” Came the response.

Not soon after, headed by a blinking blue light on his radar, came another AT-SAT breaking through the treeline. It’s head swiveling in the direction of Loros before rotating back along it’s marching path in the given objective.

“They set up in some Kaleesh burial ground, yea?” Loros asked.

“Yea, that’s what it seems,” Staticed the other walker pilot over radio. “As far as we can tell, yea. Important to our new friends of Kalee. Heard the 407th lookin’ into it.”

A scoff.

“Hell with the 407th. This is our assignment. Buddy buddy on the field, but right now let us have our stroll.”

“Check the tone, Laigrek-3.”

Loros rolled his eyes.

Did he respect the infantry? Yes, of course he did.

Did he care for them when he was deployed in this absolute warmachine of destruction?

Not very, no, he couldn’t say he did.

 

[Malakai Shorn]

Objective II // BYOO // Open
​

It was little more than a camp, than it was a hideout, Malakai quickly realized as he passed through the stone structures. Primitive and ancient, Shorn had little care for what the Yam'rii had chosen to hide out in. Maneuvering through, in his wake his telekinetic will was fashioned around numerous crates of weapons. Effortlessly, he directed the cache ahead of him onto the ground in front of his contact.

"The weapons," Malakai declared, relatively cheerful as soon as the last crate hit the stone flooring. Dozens of the Yam'rii watched intently. The bug eyed creatures were unsettling. Too large were those eyes that adorned either side of their head, but it was appealing too. He couldn't look away for apart of him sought to simply crush the skull of the creatures that met before him.

An order was given in a language he couldn't understand, and the cache was released to the masses. Whatever they planned to do with them, Malakai cared little. Wage war against the New Imperials? Why did it matter to him if they delivered the gem that was promised? A gem they had no business of possessing, if the rumours were true. Inhaling, his senses pushed out, searching for the crystal he had dreamed of. The crystal that would be the first component of a weapon fitting for his being.

His hand clenched and unclenched, for at the back of his mind, the Force whispered of impending danger. The Imperials, Malakai thought.

"The crystal," he demanded.

In which, he got the response he had been waiting for by the Huk exile - the leader of this Yam'rii presence.

"Come with usssssss, Ssssshorn."

 

[Rika Hiro]

Tag: Bastard

"...Does it matter? we all serve the Imperial cause."

She remarked matter of factly.

"You are certainly a unique individual, Mr Varanin."

Keeping a few paces behind the Echani as the pair walked through the swamp, her eyes trained on her datapad as she followed the silver-haired man. He did not seem the foolish kind to try and strike an agent of the order, not if he valued existing on this mortal plane. Errant may have been majorly skilled with the saber, but she was faster with the needle gun and garrote. Besides, it served not her superiors interests to have this man removed. Not yet as it stood, he would have to prove his own foolishness or bravery to try and move against the monolithic and ever reaching institution that was Compnor. To stand against it was to stand against the harmony of the ruling Imperial state.


"Was she worth it?"


He'd know exactly what she meant, back on Bastion, back in the violent throes of Kyber Dark. He had made his choice in a split moment, love or duty when given an order. He had taken the former over the latter, raising his saber in the name of the death of duty. And yet in the burning ruins of the Siths once splendid capital. He wasn't the only soul who knew of his sins that day, the agency knew too; they always knew.

 

[Malakai Shorn]

Objective II // BYOO // Open
​

The internal structure of the burial was made up of winding tunnels, long and tedious, it didn't take the duo too long vanish deeper into the mountainous rocky outcropping. There were adornments, although minimal that noted some closed off archways. Grooves in the rocks designated places were weapons had once rested. Evidently ransacked by the Yam'rii that adopted the crypt as a hideout, the Sith turned Pirate didn't hesitate to show the mild amusement that spread across his features.

"You have a common enemy with the Kaleesh now," Malakai started. He adopted the easygoing tone with ease. Despite starting the conversation, it seemed effortless with how careless he sounded bringing it to attention. "Peace with your enemies, to fight a greater threat?" Malakai added amusedly. Answered by silence, the lazy drone of his voice was all that he could hear. The warning danger loomed more and more with every step he took -- The Imperials were fast approaching, he deduced.

"How much further, to the crystal?"

"Ssssssoon Sssssshorn," the Yam'rii leader uttered.

Evidenced to the creatures words, they passed through another archway. On the opposing wall was a gilded door, sealed. It looked heavy, impossible to open unless a hundred souls sought to open it. "Your crysssstal, liesssss within," the Yam'rii leader said, waving one of its clipper-like limbs to the shut crypt, perhaps vault? Enticed, Malakai walked forwards, his blue eyes analyzing the door.

A secret way to open it? The Yam'rii wouldn't help him, they had their own worries to take care of. Staring down to his hands, they clenched and his palms found the cold metal of the vault door. Searching, feeling for a dead bolt of any kind to wrench open the door. Impatient, his frustration rolled off of him and he wrangled it, forcing it into something deeper, something more.

 

[Bastard]

"No longer am I a reliable weapon, but a tool to be used in place of superior stock."

Tags: Rika Hiro ​

"I suppose that is true," Errant responded to the former. "Though, I wouldn't go so far as to say that, stranger. Unique implies being unlike anyone else. If you know my name, then you likely know the truth of my crimes. I am just another undisciplined bastard incapable of warding away the shadow."

He fell silent after that, his eyes locked on the distant horizon. Whatever extremist cell awaited his judgment likely expected trouble. Their choice in base saw them well away from the rest of the planet's inhabitants, surrounded by an acrid marsh and all manner of beasts. The Albino assumed the large serpent he saw before the four-armed creature's attack to be the greatest danger he would face. His brief clash with the unknown proved otherwise. How many other oddities stood between him and his target? And if the radicals had selected this locale, surely they knew of the dangers it presented. They would be prepared.

Asa's words tore Errant from his inward musings. He stopped mid-step, his gaze finding the reflective sunglasses adorned by the agent.

"A dangerous question to ask a man with nothing to lose," he said. "I suppose it depends on what you'd believe to be worth it. Is her life worth the half a dozen men I killed? No, not at all," he returned his attention northward and continued his march as he spoke.

"Had I been able to convince her of her mistakes and turn her towards a life of service, rather than tyranny, I would say yes. She was a beautiful woman. Her passion existed beyond the battlefield. Our nights together were some of the best I can remember," he admitted. "It matters little. She is dead, alongside millions more in our battle for the Braxant," he sighed.

"Is there some greater purpose to these questions, woman?"

 

[Rika Hiro]

Tags: Bastard

"I'm merely interested, though I am no position nor interest to elaborate at this given date until necessary," she deflected back at Errant, semi satisfied with his response. Though Asa herself had no real notion of love or affection, it meant little to her, and she didn't understand how one could emphasise something so ultimately temporary over the noble Imperial cause. Not when the wider universe's state lay hostage to the reactionary forces of the Sith, Confederates and vile silver Jedi. She would hope the silver-haired warrior might pass to realise that in time or be shown the error of his ways by the ever guiding hand of COMPNOR.

"I do hope you do not act out on such urges in the future Mr Varanin."


The HRD moved up beside Errant as the pair moved in search of the dissidents' base on Oben swampy surface, the couple cutting a strange image of an unlikely pairing. Asa might've felt sorry for whoever had made this swamp their hideout; it was a wretched mud-filled hell far from civilisation and technology. Spending your days on the run from the eyes of the forces of the order in this bog was quite the humiliating way to end your career as a rebel. She had received intel on the location, but her primary directive was the Echani, not a gang of cornered rebels armed with hand me down blasters and rusted Vibro blades. That was Compforces job, not hers.

"Somebody above has placed a great deal of importance on you Mr Varanin, it wouldn't look good on my report if you died to some rebels."

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR

For an Imperial, Irveric might've not been as skeptical of these Jedi as he should have been. But interests aligned now unlike they had at any other point of Galactic history. At least, not since Roan Fel bridged contact to the Galactic Alliance in severing Darth Krayt's control of the Galaxy. Cotan Sar'andor was a name he'd heard only a few times in his life. During his tenure as a Sith Imperial Legionnaire, his name was uttered as one marked for death by the Sith, a target of a higher priority than most any other.

Exactly the sort of people Irveric had an interest in swaying to his side in a war which threatened to encompass the Galaxy. Lines were being drawn swiftly, to set one side against another at the precipice of an existential, Galactic war to bury the rest. Regardless, the political quagmire seemed as enigmatic as it ever had. Circumstances which Irveric thrived upon, as he was one of the more polarizing men living. To put the Sith Empire to its knees while letting the Iron Sun eclipse any thriving light.

He turned, Irveric's face was well known if only in its depiction in villainy to most any world outside of the New Imperial Order. Even the shaky alliance with their Core-ward neighbors had a less than amicable view of the Bloody Imperator. A status earned after the New Imperial Order choked the space between them with aggressive excursions unto Shili and Yinchorr.

"Cotan Sar'andor." He reached a hand out to take the Jedi's, grasping his forearm in a firm greeting should he oblige before he heard his initial comments.

"I can't imagine you were given the most endearing greeting unto any Sith vessel. And I don't anticipate I will ever again, and that is why I've asked you here." Irveric states, quick to draw a cigara from a metal case well within a pouch on his belt. Igniting it, he took it between his lips with a deep draw.

"I've asked you here because you know well what the True Empire embarks upon. All my reports from the Imperial Knights spell that you were there...Dantooine." He said, an underlying bitterness tainting his words.

"You know well what opposes us, not only the New Imperial Order...but those Jedi who would not see themselves compromise in the face of the Sith. And these Sith...are a great deal more than the Sith Imperial, they are an insidious parasite. The Outer Rim Judges's merit shows now in the collapse of order in a great deal of what was once Outer Rim aligned space. While my Empire is wide reaching...our space is still a realm to be tamed...and with it, I belive the Judges have a role in rooting out the Sith who'd care oppose us. A mutual interest, I am sure." Irveric suggests.

Cotan Sar'andor​

 

[Bastard]

"No longer am I a reliable weapon, but a tool to be used in place of superior stock."

Tags: Rika Hiro
​

Errant shifted direction towards a lone tree some dozen feet off-course. Roots like tentacles spiraled beneath the surface of the water, rising out of the surface sporadically. He stopped at the base and took hold of the gnarled bark of one such root. Stepping up, he grabbed hold with his second hand and pulled himself atop one of the thicker roots. He continued his climb until he stood a good dozen feet above the murk. The view was decent, providing him slightly more to be seen than from below.

"As do I," he admitted. "As do I..."

He shimmied down the roots until he stood shin-deep in the muck once again. Asa's continued prodding, though obnoxious, at least kept him from falling inward. Her voice lacked all semblance of humanity. Not a surprise, given her strange disconnection from the force. She wasn't the first of her kind the Empire has employed. A being free from the weave's influence. Given the Sovereign-Imperator's case of force-death, the New Imperial's were bound to know the value of men and women like them.

Her cryptic reference to the Lord Executor stopped him in his tracks yet again. He took a deep breath, turning his curious gaze her way. If she knew of Rurik's involvement, she either represented a group with a far-reaching influence or counter herself a member of the Imperial Knights.

"I am well aware of that fact, stranger," he continued his march, his attention split between her and their path. "It is for that reason I walk this path now. If not for his trust, I'd be a dead man. I seek atonement to prove to him, among others, that I may have erred, but my loyalty to our empire has not wavered. It is.... difficult, to say the least," he shifted his shoulder, the cloak wrapped around his form falling back, freeing his sword arm. "I do not believe another soul would be permitted to live after committing treason."

Water gave way to a sloping hill. Dozens more existed beyond the first, the strange marshland giving way to flooded hills.

"We've arrived at our destination," he muttered. Errant dropped into a crouch as he shuffled up the first hill. "Now may be a good time to step aside if you do not intend to get your hands dirty."