Your Overconfidence Is Your Weakness | Rebel Alliance Invasion of Sith Empire Held Dubrillon Hex

[Darth Voracitos]

Location: Dubrillion Garrison
Character: Crult Momniw - The Savant Wrath
Objective: Secure the might of the Corpulent One
Enemies: [member="Tathra Khaeus"] and his Brutes

Voracitos had many eyes in many places, some of them out of line with the temporal flow of events, in the past, present, or future. One such eye belonged to the Savant Wrath, an eye the gluttonous master had looked through before he himself saw what he sees now. The Master of Gluttony with a stomach greater than even his eyes scattered across the galaxy, knew first of the Rebel attack, before even the Rebels knew that their intentions were made. With anticipation, Voracitos sent the Savant Wrath and his many Starved Subjects to Dubrillion, to await their long arrival, to soak up yet more souls, yet more subjects to the cause of gluttony. The Savant Wrath would act as his masters great and terrible maw, and fulfill his desires of consumption, either by blade or his own souls.

Alien soldiers would fall from the sky, encased in heavy metal, and lumber forth to an even greater giant of towering might. The bladed devil garbed in whispering shadow across his body smiled with the anticipation of a good fight, the former pit fighter granted the power and life enough to cause a battlefield to tremble once he hit his stride. Truly the monster did hope these rebels would be up to the task Voracitos warned him of in his prophesy. The Lord was rarely wrong in his visions, having already fulfilled his own vision of his death so many decades ago as the Emperor of the old Empire.

Dozens of Starved Subjects weaved through blaster fire or supplied their own, many falling to death, others rising to occasion, all of them meaningless to the only beast that Lord Voracitos entrusted with a lightsaber. With a classic snap-hiss, the Savant Wrath's own blade charged forward with the full weight of the Devaronian giant, biting through armor and flesh. Despite being a giant, the swordsman moved with an admirable grace and speed, deflecting blaster bolts back into their shooters, and cleaving through heavy armor with undeniable strength and proficiency.

"Send your dozens, your hundreds, your thousands! Send them to the maw of Gluttony, the Savant Wrath!" The warrior bellowed mirthfully, glad of his master's foresight in sending him here.

 

[Darth Rixas]

Objective: Rebel the Rebels
Location: Enroute to Dubrillion
Allies: Sith
Enemies: Rebels

Whispers.

Gods would hear them, of course. The pleading voices of the weak and the dying, the desperate wails of the devout, and the shouts of men and women filled with regret. Those whom failed to calculate odds too heavily stacked against them and held no light to the darkness that threatened to swallow their work. But, the Gods seldom listened. For were they not eternal? Were they not above the pity, the worries, and requests of beggars? Never did they need the floury mounted upon them by the dutiful masses - Should they dedicate time to such a task, would they not smite all of humanity on a whim if needed? And if they wouldn't do it themselves, was it the appointment of the Dark Side, the responsibilities of it's disciples, to do so in their stead?..

The Marauder, he'd heard them before- the fevered whisper of terrified victims, flowing past bloodied lips, begging for the aid of those above them, those powerful enough to halt the horror that would befall them in their final moments. If more had seen so many people in such a way during their fleeting hours, he wandered if those with the power and diction to command factions would be so quick to send their people to war - To hostile lands, unfavorable odds, and ill-planned operations. Or did they care? Was death not to be feared by the galaxy today? Was there no fear of consequence? No worry of the light being snatched from their eyes?

Oron mused over these thoughts and a myriad of similar ones as his shuttle launched down a tepid lane of blurred stars, his craft purposefully launched into Hyperspace towards Dubrillion. Arms folded across his chest, the lone figure stood at the bridge of the cruiser. Clad in sapphire and obsidian beskar'gam, his T-shaped visor looked towards the viewport. Quiet, calculating, still, calm - A complete contrast to the chaos around him. The repeated hiss of hydraulic doors sounded time and time again as military personnel shuffled in and out, running to and fro, attempting to ready themselves for the impending battle. Yet, he found favor in the chaos - In the inscrutable clang of metal from within the bowels the ship, the ringing of weapons and armor, the scent of the stagnant air- all things that to most people became bothersome after a while, seemed to somehow keep the Sith Lord calm.

Oron wasn't devoid of emotion however. Inside him twisted a malefic inferno that would most likely only be doused by the power of a Deity- or death. And although a frown managed to wind it's way across his mocha features, orange eyes half lidded with derisive indifference, he wasn't upset. Few things made him so these days. War was a constant. Rebellions, invasions, skirmishes, none of these things troubled his soul any longer. He could not pretend that these things were unlikely and pout with furrowed brows or speak with angered, agitated tones. This battle, like many to come, was just a stepping stone to conquering the galaxy as it were.

 

[H3xle]

Location: Dubrillion, Saaraishash HQ
Allies: TSE [member="Leliana"] [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="tabigarashu madara"] [member="Vestille Thumahra"] [member="Djorn Bline"]
Enemies: Rebels

Khaji could never quite keep himself from purring in delight when in the same room as Hirou. The automatic reactions of seeing a leonid enter a room where a Nezumi or Ratat waited were always ones of bated breaths, waiting for the cat to pounce. Humans ran most of the galaxy, but they held onto their prejudices quite strongly, and could never imagine that a creature such as Khaji would respect and follow one such as Hirou.

Khaji quite liked Hirou, he was a capable agent, and that was what mattered above all else.

As was his norm, Khaji remained silent as he was briefed, reclining in his seat languidly. Even among allies, it always paid to play to the stereotypes. Cats were ever napping and comfortable, and Khaji liked to be thought of as less a threat than he was.

Still, he came alert and stood in a smooth motion as the alert came through.

"Change of plans," came the small, mulling voice. "We must support the Legion's efforts on the ground.... such as it is. I would like some of you to travel to the Kolto facility and some to the refinery. I will arrange access to full data from system sensors and access to all parts of both facilities."

"I can trravel to the rrefinerry." Khaji offered with his typical slow speech and rolling 'R's. "I have made contacts there with severral subverrsive elements in prreparration for ourr orriginal mandate herre. They may come in useful when the Rebels make landfall." He let a little growl come out as he mentioned Rebels. He may not be a true citizen of the Empire, as the borders had not yet reached Trian. He knew who his benefactors were, though, and what side of the coin he wished his people to end up on.

 

[Leliana]

Location: Dubrillion, Saaraishash HQ
Allies: [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | [member="Ardeth Zun"] | [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] | [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | [member="Djorn Bline"] | TSE
Enemies: Eventually - [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | TRA
Equipment: Sith Lightsaber | Daggers | Hidden Blade | Assassin Armour

Leliana remained silent, leaning against the wall not to far from the table the Saaraishash agents were currently stood around. The assassin had been 'assigned' to follow the Inquisitors after it had become clear something was up with the recent attacks on the Sith Empire. Namely the fact that there had been far too many in quick succession.

She looked on amused, as a Nezumi of all people was giving orders. Leliana had no issue with the small mouse, it was just a very amusing sight to behold.

It was disrupted however when the alarm went off, an amber light illuminating the room. Leliana pushed away from her spot against the wall, walking over to the table and sliding into a spot beside Djorn Bline. The assassin was surprised to hear how harsh such a small voice could sound coming from Hirou. But it was clear the Nezumi wasn't taking things lightly.

High Inquisitor...aye? Isn't that the highest possible rank in their organization?

The amusement from before flickered back to life for a moment, only to be smothered back down as the Assassin focused.

"I can head for the Kolto Plant." She was only vaguely familiar with the facility, but she knew it contained enclosed spaces and not a lot of room to hide from an assassin. "Bline, you in as well?"

They had worked well enough together in the past, that and he was the only Inquisitor she knew to some extent.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Saaraishash HQ, Dubrillon​

Allies: [member="Leliana"] | [member="Ardeth Zun"] | [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] | [member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Tabigarashu Madara"]​

Enemies: Rebels​

A wolf in a den of ghosts.

It wasn't often that Vestille and the members Saaraishash were together in the same room, most of the work and assignments the 105th's Captain undertook was on the battlefield, rather than behind the scenes. That wasn't to say, however, that he hadn't experience in the field of expertise that the Saaraishash thrived upon. As it was, Vestille had traveled alone to Dubrillon whilst the 105th recovered from their strenuous ordeal on both their minds and bodies during their time on Ession; an understanding that him and his men still had the divide of their physical and mental limits between them. So it was that whilst his men were given their time to recover, the ceaseless work of their Captain took him behind the curtains of the Sith Empire, specifically to Dubrillon. It was from there that he stood in a briefing full of various faces that he had never met personally nor did he feel like he would have the time to do so. Perhaps the most strangest thing of all to Vestille was that, stood atop the table was the Nezumi who, despite how small they looked, was the voice of authority there in that very room.

A passing thought couldn't help but slip through the otherwise zealously professional Captain's mind, one that wondered how easy it could be to accidentally step on his superior, though his thoughts quickly reigned themselves in once the closing words turned to the blaring of lights and the identification of a fleet approaching the planet was heard through the comms. As it appeared that their original mission to locate and stamp out terrorists and scum turned from rumors to solid confirmation, something within the Captain's mind switched on. Though his tactics of finding and locating potential rebels and their sympathizers never shifted, considering a majority of his interrogative and investigative techniques derived from his time within the Death Troopers under the Galactic Empire, he acknowledged that if the Sith cared about anyone, it was their own and to that end a dog was brought down to heel, a more tamed version of his former self... If only to be let out of the cage, knowing that there was a fight to be had.

A hunting grounds was to be established and a fleet of fools were approaching to no doubt try and take the planet from the hands of the Sith Empire. As it seemed the plan was to split off and support the Legion forces stationed on the planet, the Captain of the 105th remained silent; if only to keep tabs on the movements of his peers and listen out for any further intelligence that came from the Nezumi as they went about their scurrying across the table and whatever the small figure seemed to do, Vestille wasn't paying attention with his vision, just his ears. Instead, the Captain checked over his weapons and equipment to ensure that everything was present and correct; plenty of bite to make up for the lack of bark. As he stood and waited for the call and the plan of action, an occasional glance was shot to the rest of the Saaraishash present, the group of unknowns that, like it or not, he would have to rely upon and trust, lest this fleet of unknown affiliation would no doubt have their prize.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Attack Dubrillion Garrison | Halt Imperial Forces
​Method: Contain and Destroy | First Strike
Location: Dubrillion

​Allies: Strike Team One | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Romi Jade"]
​Enemies: [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Kor Vexen"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | @Cam Fryden | [member="Leliana"] | [member="Darth Rixas"] | [member="Darth Voracitos"]

​Out of the twenty or so Agramar class ships that had entered the atmosphere of Dubrillion, an assortment of a total of sixteen Hel Shards launched from each, a total of nearly thirty made their way towards the ground. Filled to the brim with Brutes, ready for battle. Roughly twenty four of those Hel Shards landed on the planet below, some crashing directly into the Garrison itself; massive and heavily armoured, crashing into artillery positions and strong Imperial positions.

​Brutes were built for this, storming the beachhead. They rained down like shards of death, screaming and roaring in their native tongue as the feeble hand held weaponry of the Imperials was little more than an itch for this elite force. Some preferred to get close, crushing their targets skulls in their hand and using their own weaponry and artillery.

​It was as their name implied, they brutalised the forward defences of the Imperial defending forces. For every one of them that fell, ten or more Imperials met their end. Their heavy rifles tore through the enemy, it was amateur hour for the Imperials.

​High above, Tathra used his thrusters sparingly to direct himself toward a foe that was presenting an issue for his Brutes. Tathra had been free-falling for some time, building up momentum, flying downward like a human missile at [member="Darth Voracitos"]' beastly slave. Pulling his thrusters at the last moment, Tathra threw himself back; instead of his head, launching his feet centre at the chest of the beast.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective: Kaboom-boom making
Allies: Rebels, Light Side, people not trying to murder him
Enemies: Sith, dark side, people trying to murder him, probably [member="Taeli Raaf"], [member="Darth Carnifex"], idk maybe [member="Aryn Teth"] if he's alive

Starchaser was here to fight. Out of the Sith prison and working with Jaius to help reclaim and refocus the Galactic Alliance in Exile forces, the newly minted General Starchaser was doing what he did when he didn’t know what else to do with the galaxy. Taking the fight to the dark side. And that meant seeing who was moving forces where. The Alliance in Exile was working on securing their own ranks out in D’Qar, falling from galactic super power, to exile in the Outer Rim. It didn’t bother Coren. The men and women he fought, won, and lost with, were all together.

His student, Mishel Noren, had provided him with a new toy. He was going to have some fun with this. He wasn’t the best of lightsaber duelists, but a pike? That he could do a bit more damage with. Sure, it was good enough to slash and he could use it to hit, but this was Coren Starchaser, after all. The Alliance-in-Exile U-Wing jumped into the system of Dubrillion among the Rebel Alliance. He was here partially to support the other rebels, but mostly to hit back at the Sith.

They cost him another arm, and [member="Taeli Raaf"] and [member="Darth Carnifex"] were responsible for destroying his way of life. A few Alliance marines were with him, and some of the droid pilots. His own droid was out with [member="Mishel Noren"] in the Confederacy space, helping piece together their newest toy. Coren had a score to settle, and a few things to do, so here he was, flying headlong into battle, yet again. He saw a few of the other ships heading down to the planet and grinned.

Looking over his pilot’s shoulder, he pointed. “Bring us in there.” He could feel [member="Romi Jade"] and the others, and knew that was where the heaviest of the fighting was going to be. Turning to the rest of his ship, he checked his armor, and the new Ancile shield. It lit up soft red as he checked it once before turning it off. He had his modified rifle, light repeater with a flechette launcher under the main barrel, and his new lightsaber. He grinned. “Alright, folks. We’re going in where the fighting is heaviest. Once we touch, get clear of the ship, T-7 is going to get this to our secondary landing zone for safe keeping. If we lose the ship, get in with the Rebels, they’ll get you home.” He nodded as he looked to the group. “See you planet side.”

Crouching down, Coren grabbed his gun and checked the load out. He called the Force to him, and with a soft pop, he left his ship and had appeared on the ground near the proposed landing zone. A blast of pure telekinetic energy knocked anything around him from where he folded back into space away, and General Starchaser began picking targets and firing repeating blasts at them before finding himself some cover. Next up? Make a barrier before everyone landed.

The number one trick was that every Sith was probably not alerted to the fact that escaped prisoner and Alliance Commander Coren Starchaser was on the field, despite his run-of-the-mill black Phrikin’ awesome armor.

 

[Romi Jade]

DUBRILLION​

Refinery Complex​

WITH: [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Coren Starchaser'] [member="Ras Val'kor] [member="Aten Ramses"]​

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OBJECTIVE: Take Refinery Complex​

ENEMIES: Eventually: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] & [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Taeli Raaf"]​

Spoiler

[youtube]

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/qATkXKpAZrY[/youtube]

Turbulence.

Her eye-lashes melded into one another to the softest whispers of air that rode the surface of her lips.

"You're a fighter. You've always been a fighter." Kneeling to her subconscious inner voice, she absorbed the self-encouragement on even the darkest of days; this was one of them. She needed it...

She hoped being in the proximity of others she'd grown to love was enough, and she promised Cedric she'd be at his side during his mission. She wasn't backing down anytime soon, afflicted or not.

Her knee buckled; the drop ship finally landed. The lock popped, the hinges going through it's cycle before the door actually popped open and pressures of the air filled the temporary sanctum with uneasiness; she could feel it. When the door finally opened, she loosened her stance, waiting her turn to exit from the second row. She looked through the oval-esque glass, and then over to Aten before inhaling as much air as she could.

Her turn.

In one swoop, she propelled from the edge, whipping her lightsaber across her person while cutting into stray fire. There wasn't a question of whether she was up to this...she refused to allow that side of her to float towards the surface. She was busy, spinning and somersaulting her way through a path she was carving herself.

She kept her head and her cool, and moved her scarlet lightsaber through a wild blur of motion. With a flick of her wrist she wove her own web without stopping. Her right hand lacing her hilt while stonewalling enemy fire; three bolts.

Her head whipped around, taking in the arrival of the Alliance U-Wings.

 

[Elani Zambrano]

Objective: Get spooky.
Location: The Behemoth
Allies: TSE | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] | [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]
Enemies: None yet

Nose in spellbook after spellbook.

Elani gathered her strength the best she knew how: immersing herself in the dark side through ancient rites and rituals. It was all she knew and it was all she needed. Locked within her room, the young Zambrano chanted quietly as her mind ventured deep within the Force and banished any vestiges of the Light near her. She needed complete darkness in order to see clearly. The warmth of the light disgusted her and made her feel nauseous. She was at peace in the cold dark. It was her home.

As the world around her became alive with activity, Elani sat in silence. Biding her time and gather her strength for the moment to come for her to unleash her fury upon her enemies, whoever they might be. That much was unknown to her at the time as the Empire was currently mobilizing to defend one of it's planets from invasion.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Location: Dubrillion Garrison
Character: Crult Momniw - The Savant Wrath
Objective: Secure the might of the Corpulent One
Enemies: [member="Tathra Khaeus"] and his Brutes

While not one to delve too deeply in the force given his brutish nature, Crult was rather effective sensing enough for blocking and deflecting projectiles back to senders... even if the projectile was the sender in this particular case, and the issue in one aiming directly at the exposed center mass of the hulking brute, was that it was "exposed" only in that it had no armor, but by no means undefended.

With unnatural speed, the Savant Wrath would take his eyes from the battlefield to glare mirthfully at the suddenly incoming missile-form of the mutated brute, before his lightsaber came in an upward arc and parried down at its apex, while his rear foot slid around behind him, the action putting his body at an angle to the impacting mass. In the best of scenarios the lightsaber would cut through or otherwise push the legs of the "incoming projectile" out of the way as Crult deftly swept his mass to the side, perpendicular to his opponents inevitable position. In the worst of scenarios, the brute's lightsaber would fail to cut and instead bounce as his leg swept him just out of the direct path of the impact site. Either way, he did not imagine it would be good for his opponents legs to land such a way, hopefully he was looking at the horizon and not the ground.

Well, assuming he had legs by the time he hit the ground of course...

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Attack Dubrillion Garrison | Halt Imperial Forces
​Method: Contain and Destroy | First Strike
Location: Dubrillion

​Allies: Strike Team One | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"]
​Enemies: [member="Darth Voracitos"] | dunno who else atm

​Tathra aptly made a miniscule adjustment to his trajectory as his opponent moved only a few inches; using his disproportionate arms to place his club of a saber between the legs of the mutant. The magnetic shielding and momentum of his movement merely allowed the blade to resemble something close to a tickle as the sheer momentum of his movement would no doubt be greater than the small movement his opponent had made, batting away the blade with his movement as his front thrusters activated as he slid into a combat roll, chunks of earth piling on either side of his feet as Tathra quickly turned to his opponent.

Kyberfel shot up from its slotted position a mere inch and into the grasp of Tathra's right hand, its massive momentum brought around to bare in his left hand, the Repulsion generator built into the head of the weapon activating as Tathra held it now in both hands. His nano-tech helm seemed to dissolve away as his golden eyes observed his opponent for a moment.

A few inches smaller, bulbous and fat. Likely slower, just by the guess of his build. But clearly intelligent, a few Brute bodies littered the floor; but now this one had solely Tathra to contend with. There were no words exchanged, this was a war. Not some show.

​Tathra sprinted forward, ready to test the strength of his enemy, stopping only a few steps away as he swung Kyberfel toward the lightsaber of his opponent. He had no doubt his opponent was of impressive strength, but his weapon was weighted. He had the advantage in the exchange of blows no doubt, additionally; once the weapons connected, not only would his enemy have to contend with his own strength, but the miniature shockwave that would be produced by the weapon upon impact.

​If successful, Tathra had no doubt it would throw his opponent's momentum off and disable his defence temporarily, or remove his saber from a shattered wrist entirely.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Refinery Complex
With: [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"]
Objective: Take/Evacuate Refining Complex
Enemies: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] | [member="Xevek Rakama"]
Equipment: Powergaunts, Lightsaber, Asheran Armorweave clothing

Hands clutched to either side of his head Aten rocked back and forth in his seat, all around him sat veterans of combat, those who’d seen more battles than Aten could possibly imagine and all that plagued the young Jedi’s mind were thoughts of Alderaan. The planet where he’d first seen the cruelty and reality of war. Where he’d been left broken, bleeding and dying beneath rubble. It was only due to his past master that the Morellian survived, and even that master was gone. Now Aten was the student of Romi Jade, one of the premier Jedi and few beacons of light remaining in the galaxy. How had he gotten so lucky? How could she be so calm throughout this endeavor? Glancing up Aten took in the calm and collected woman that had taken him under her wing. How would he ever live up to her reputation?

There was the faint rumble of the ship as it touched down the lights within flashing green giving clearance to those within to exit. That terror, that panic, the uncertainty that Aten felt clawing within was now once more locked into the cage as the Jedi opened himself to the currents of the force. He let that calm energy flow into him, reassure him and drive those deep-seated fears away. Now he was a Jedi, he was here to make a difference. Rising from his seat his fingers flexing within the powergaunts Aten followed Romi out of the ship. The primary of Dubrillion glinted off the metallic gauntlets as Aten stayed close behind his master. Romi’s skillful use of Ataru was always something to marvel, the grace that each twirl and spin was made with. The art that her sabers after image crafted in her wake. Aten envied her in a way.

Only a few steps behind Romi he watched as his master flipped over a lone trooper that aimed up in hopes of shooting down the famed Jedi. What he wasn’t expected was the Morellian’s fist impacting with his helmeted head. A loud crack filled the air as the helmet’s visor shattered from the vibrations of the gauntlet, the troopers head whipping back the force of the blow lifting him off his feet and sending him cartwheeling to the ground. While the others of their group would possibly be moving to take the facility as a whole Aten’s goal was a far more noble one, he would attempt to send up an alarm, get what civilian workers there were. If he didn’t the Sith could easily craft propaganda stating how the Rebel Alliance had slaughtered innocent employees, not only that but its what a Jedi should do.

 

[Delsin Kessler]

Location: Looking at dubrillion far away in the MK-89ZZ
Objective: Transmiting a message.
Allies: The Rebel Alliance ( [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Ras"] Val´kor [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Romi Jade"] ) and [member="Alyson Halle"]
Equipment: In signature (Plus another type of droid armor]/weapon)

The song was loud, and filled the entire ship. The new sit he had installed on the pilot place felt great for his back, although he was falling sleep. For the mission he had, would be to stay away from the battle...for now. His ship had its engine off, and other systems weren´t on at the moment. The new weapon he was testing would be an addition to his personal arsenal "If it works i will call it..." the name would matter. For now, he would adjust the droid armor.

The starfighter was floating in the middle of the space, far away from what anyone would consider to be the orbit of Dubrillion. The planet was the side of a big ball from this distance, and if he appear in any radar, the idiots would confuse it as debris or a little meteor. He remember being in that planet just days ago, investigating some districts with the recon team.

Solon didnt understand the task he had at hand. The only thing turned on was the communication system, and it was transmiting a steady relay signal. It was dangerous as any recon fighter in Dubrillion could search the source of the signal, but his fear dropped the same moment as his allies dropped from hyperspace. The Rebels would draw any attention so he would just wait it out. Why transmitting that signal? Why staying away? It was beyond him "Maybe for another fleet to know when to drop? Cedric must think this is pretty vital for the battle"

 

[Noah Corek]

Location: Sub with the rest of the DOG's
Objective: Infiltrate Kolto Facility
Allies: [member="Ari Vox"] - @Elpsis Kerrigan Alcori
Enemies: The Meany Sith
Equipment: Armor - Rifle - Bolter - Pistols - Sword - Knives - Blade - Special Bullets - Various grenades

Noah sighed as he was hunched down in the deployment bay of the sub. Noah hated subs. Subs were designed for people of average height and being two meters tall, well one point nine eight meters tall but that was neither here nor there, he had the tendency to bump his head on this. So now here he sat, nearly doubled over and tapping his foot incessantly in annoyance. "Come on Corek, it'll be fun. Fun my ass." With his annoyance of being stuffed into something he called a 'pressurized floating durasteel tube' voiced he began to check his gear.

Slipping his helmet on and with a few non-verbal commands an entire checklist was brought up that Noah went through. HUD System? Running green. Neural Band? Up and ready to repel mind attacks. Isotope 5 cells? Fully charged and feeding power. Exoskeleton? All joints reading one hundred percent integrity. Vambraces? Secure and loaded. Shielding? Fully charged and ready to repel projectiles. Boots? Strapped on and ready to roll. Belt and backpack? All non mission essential equipment removed and replaced with extra ammo and explosives. Jump Kit? Primed and ready to maneuver. Grav and Repulse gloves? Ready to give him pseudo forcie powers.

Another few non-verbal commands shooed the armor checklist and brought up his weapons checklist. Rifle? Micro red dot and magnifier, stubby foregrip and suppressor were all secured. Bolter? Slung over his back and loaded with a full mag. Pistols? In holsters attached to each thigh plate. Sword? Just like his bolter it was slung over his back but out of the way so it wouldn't interfere with it. Knives? Sheathes were secured on the outside of each lower leg plate. Blade? Secured in its sheath on his left shoulder pauldron. New Neuranium bullets? Several magazines for both his rifle and pistols were secured in several ammo pouches. Grenades? Various grenades from frag to force breakers were secured to a bandoleer. Once again Noah blinked away his HUD and waited, damn he hated the waiting.

 

[Comet]

OBJECTIVE: Defend Dubrillion
LOCATION: The Black Iron Fleet
ALLIES: The Sith Empire - [member="Darth Carnifex"]
ENEMIES: The Rebel Alliance - [member="Cedric Grayson"]

This is what he was created for. His sole purpose. Whether he lived or died, it didn't matter. Only that he died for something he believed in. An Empire willing to dominant the Galaxy, and in time create peace. No matter the means, it was justified by the ending. Comet didn't care why he went to war, only that he did. Politics weren't his game, and neither was star domination. He was the boots on the ground, the knees in the mud, the blood on the sand. He was - after all - born to die.

The Black Iron Fleet drew nearer and nearer with each passing moment, the blood within Comet flowed with vigour and excitement. It was a water-based planet, and thus meant smaller ground environments. The fighting was going to be intense, it was going to be bloody. As an apt tactician with the ability to inspire, he was in command at the rank of Captain. He held no grand details concerning the battle's current situation, but they were sure to come with time.

For now? Comet sat with his somewhat unique armour draped over his person, and a cloak over that. The weapon in hands had been thoroughly inspected time and again, but no amount could satisfy him in this moment. The wait was sure to kill him before any Rebel was, be sure of that.

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Dubrillion, Saaraisash HQ
Allies: [member="Leliana"] | [member="Ardeth Zun"] | [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | @Khaji Ri’Had | [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | TSE
Enemies: [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | [member="Noah Corek"] | TRA
Objective: En route to the Kolto Complex
Gear:

Spoiler

Armor
Underlay
Rifle
Pistols (x2)
Knife
Left grav glove
Stun grenades (x2)
EMP Grenades (x2)
Cryoban Grenades (x2)

Djorn was the most surprised to hear that he was recruited by one of the High Inquisitors that happened to be one of the many supervisors he reported to and was under the command. He was quite unorthodox when compared to the rest of Saaraisash agents. The man was loyal and a good agent that proved his worth, but there were some rather...minor radical elements that his superiors frowned on. Sometimes he was one to disobey orders that he deemed incompetent for him to follow as he believed weren’t right and didn’t help with the never ending progression of the Sith Empire. Though this trait of his of disobeying the commands of his officers didn’t happen quite too often. Otherwise he’d probably be in some internment camp doing hard labor or worse. Radical he sometimes was, but he was a trustworthy agent that always finished his missions.

Within the same room that the agents shared, Bline listened closely to the smol, yet formidable High Inquisitor, Hirou. Did he take the Nezumi seriously and professionally? Absolutely. Although he found it quite hard to believe with a hint of amusement to see, upon being accepted in the ranks of the Saaraisash, that a smol mouse would be his supervisor. While being very smol in mass and size, Djorn preferred Hirou over most High Inquisitors that he sometimes reported to. The most competent in his mind, no doubt.

While being briefed of the recent rebellions that had been arising here and there in domestic lands, the alarm screamed and amber colored the room giving a distress signal that they were being attacked. The Silver Jedi? Another rebel cell? Didn’t matter who it was, they’d pay the price for this insurgency.

As expected, new orders were given out to the agents. Orders specifically to aid with the defenses of Kolto Plant and the Refinery. Sites that were important to the Empire which would weaken, but not cripple the Empire if compromised. The Empire had a great plenty of assets to continue its expansion and maintain its stability, but they wouldn’t let Dubrillion fall. They would retain it and it would be the burial of whoever blitzed in.

”Yeah, I’m in,” the Inquisitor replies back to Leliana, a woman he had worked alongside with in the past yet was still unfamiliar with her background and history. Mysterious, yet efficient and capable.

”You got a ride to the plant?”

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Location: Dubrillion Garrison
Character: Crult Momniw - The Savant Wrath
Objective: Secure the might of the Corpulent One
Enemies: [member="Tathra Khaeus"] and his Brutes

The Savant Wrath felt the resistance of his blade against his enemies magnetized armor, before observing him adeptly "combat roll" in a manner that would no doubt have utterly shattered the bone structure of a less sturdy humanoid. Crult might've been able to do it in his youth, though at his current size doing such would undoubtedly be debilitating... if not for the gift of the force of course. Gravity was a cruel mistress to him.

His opponent now had some measure of distance from himself, buried in the ground. Although his recovery was quick, it was still a measure of time for the creature to unearth his feet, claim his weapon, and turn around into his sprint, all the while Crult observed his opponent and prepared for the opening he felt was coming. The weapon was (of course) a hammer, a weapon to bludgeon a problem into the ground. Crult had his own favored weapon for bludgeoning problems, but until a problem proved too difficult, he preferred the surgeons approach until his full strength was needed. Any problem could be dealt with at maximal strength, but why go to such extremes to kill a single ant with an incendiary grenade when a boot will do? Crult had little doubt this combatant would not be as small as an ant, but he had principles to upkeep. There was always the need to understand an opponent, so one knew best how to cut him to pieces.

The hammer wielding creature appeared to make a mistake from his perspective, one which he would attempt to exploit, as it appeared there would be no follow through on his enemies attack, at least, against his person there wouldn't be. Crult had expected an assault on his body which he would then need to react to defend, instead the assault appeared to reach for his weapon. Did the brute intend to match strengths? He would be disappointed, as when the hammer would reach the saber, it will have already moved far away from such a telegraphed charging attack. In an underestimation of his agility, the Hammer-wielder will notice that his quarry side-stepped from the path of his charge and his weapon, before procuring a physical armored off-handed punch directed to the back of the unarmored head of his opponent, intend to send them careening with their hammer away from Crult.

The first step to defeating any opponent, was to unbalance them and play to their weaknesses, and be wary of their strengths. Crult's strength was ironically obvious, in that everything he appeared to be was something of a deception (except perhaps his innate strength). He had the force (and occasionally drugs) to thank for his surprisingly agile nature, though it could be draining if utilized too much, and if he was so desperate as to indulge in his drug addiction for a boost in combat, things were not looking good for him.

He had doubts though, that this opponent would push him that far, and though he would be pleasantly surprised and glad, only time would tell...

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: Dubrillon​

Objective: Hold the ground​

Allies: The Sith Empire | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Vaylin"]​

Enemies: Rebel Scum​

​

​

War had this peculiar knack for following her.

Judging by the panicked reaction of the populace around her, the Star Destroyers which had appeared in orbit were not Sith and nor were they expected. Alarms began to blare around her, the call for the people to return to their homes or move to shelters. As the citizens fled, Samka remained staring at the collection of ships.

Even from here, so far away, she could feel them. The self righteous fools who believed they alone should determine the galaxy's fate. Bringing war and destruction to those who had a different life. It was the same old story repeated across the galaxy, the same one which had brought total war to her doorstep. But this time, she didn't feel anger. Truly, she had no stakes in this fight. The Jedi could torch this entire planet and the Ren would react with a shrug.

No, she was amused.

Amused at the idea of what was to come. Death would follow, both sides would bleed and it would fuel her. The whims of the Master of Ren had grown increasingly deranged as of late. Bloodshed had corrupted her and experimentation had corrupted her. Each life taken, roused the Darkness within her. It made her stronger.

War was no longer an irritant as it was when the Galactic Alliance had attacked the First Order. It was no longer a necessary evil as it had been during the First Order's counter attacks.

War was beautiful.

As the dots flew across the sky, the mark of enemy transports coming to land, she smiled, knowing what was to be unleashed.

A hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, jerking the Ren from her thoughts.

"Little lady, I know it's scary but you can't just stand there," a bystander had come to help her, assuming she was frozen in fear. It made sense, she was dressed the civilian. Her clothing casual, totally unassuming in a patterned dress and hat rimmed to keep the sun from her eyes. With her short statue and petite frame, there was no indication of what she truly was.

Until they met her eyes.

She turned her head to look at the man who'd grabbed her and he immediately backed off. The crimson eyes of one strong in the Dark Side immediately recognisable to any citizen of the Sith Empire. He was middle aged, slightly overweight and with kind eyes. Yet now he seemed overwhelmed with panic, the fear at the ships in the sky overridden by the fear of the small woman before him. He lingered for a moment until Samka dismissed him with a quick nod of her head and the man disappeared into the crowds.

As the numbers around her thinned, a mighty figure landed before her. A Stenax. The demonic creature bowed deeply before his prophet. If the sight of such a terrifying and large alien in servitude to a lithe young girl was unusual, it wasn't enough to draw more than glances in the rush to escape the invasion.

"Decitus," the Stenax growled her moniker in his deep tone. "This was not the plan."

The plan had been to negotiate the Stenax tribe's access to Kolto, to diversify their supply lines in case one went silent. Samka's public departure from the First Order at the behest of the Supreme Leader had made supplying her cult of beastly fanatics more difficult.

"They're no doubt here for the same reasons we are," Samka glance back up at the Star Destroyers. "This world is worthless beyond manufacturing and supply but we were polite enough to ask first." She tutted with disapproval at the manners of the invaders before turning back to the creature bowed before her. "I have excellent news, Aga'thata," she beamed towards her servant, knowing how violent and bloodthirsty the species was. Her request to restrain their own sadistic nature had often caused tensions between the prophet and her followers but today they could run wild. "The big players of the Sith shall take some time to arrive from their nearby systems which means, by circumstance, it is my duty to defend the territory of my friends and allies until help arrives."

The beast's sharp toothed grin let her know he understood where this was going. The smile she returned unto him, a smile of sadism upon otherwise innocent features was no less terrifying than the demons.

"Tear them apart," Samka's voice was soft yet quivering with excitement. "Each and every one of them."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Objective: Kill the Webuls, Kill the Webuls, Kill the Webuls
Location: The Behemoth
Allies: [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Taeli Raaf"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Elani Zambrano"], [member="Comet"]
Enemies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Cenric Marus"], [member="Aryn Teth"]
Gear: Below Signature

The pulsating haze of faster than light travel illuminated the command bridge of the Behemoth as the titanic warship hurtled through time and space, followed by its support fleet of over fifty smaller starships. Emperor Carnifex gently paced back and forth as the bridge officers and Captain Godfris watched anxiously, the dark emotions that radiated off of their ruler visibly affecting them as well. A well of hate and suffering resided deep within the Dark Lord's physical animus, and he now siphoned only tiny portions to nurture his growing ferocity as his mind calculated the battle that was to come the moment his flagship dropped out of hyperspace over Dubrillion.

"My lord," came a disembodied robotic masculine voice, "Thirty minutes to real-time."

His pacing came to a gradual halt as he turned away from the transparisteel viewport, stalking down the central thoroughfare and towards his command throne situated at the back of the bridge. He took his position upon the throne, settling comfortably into his position of power over the bridge's occupants. It was at that time that the Valkyrie Vaylin and Valkyrie Kaalia approached him, and informed the Emperor that their collective forces were moving into position to reinforce the defense at Dubrillion. "Excellent work, my Valkyries. Judgment will come swift on wings of blood, fire, and fury. Take great care that you leave none of these mongrels alive, their very existence ferments the seeds of disorder."

Now that he had addressed his Valkyries, the time had come for his own personal preparations. "Aquila, inform our guests to assemble in my private hangar and prepare to disembark."

"As you command, my lord." Aquila was the artificial intelligence software that had been installed on the Behemoth, and who had also been a constant companion of the Emperor since the twilight days of the Old Empire. He had served faithfully and excellently over the decades, and now he served as the Behemoth's first captain under the Emperor.

There was a whirring and a grinding of gears and servomotors as the throne and the plinth it was raised upon began to sink into the floor of the command bridge, eventually disappearing all-together alongside the Emperor as he descended into the inner sanctum located several levels beneath the command bridge. Once confined to the darkened chambers, he rose from his throne and strode confidently into a smaller antechamber where several hooded servants awaited his arrival carrying bowls of scented oils, sponges, and urns of pulverized bone and chalk.

Carnifex quickly disrobed until he was completely nude, and knelt down on his knees before the assembled throng. Instantly they went to work slathering the Emperor's muscular and scarred body with oil, a thick sheen coating his skin as they dabbed, and scrubbed, and soaked him thoroughly. Neither the Emperor nor his hidden servants held any shame, and every inch of Carnifex's body was subjected to their slickening fingers as they anointed him in full view of the Force and of the Gods of his ancestral homeland. Then they dusted his body with bone and chalk, a heavy layer of dust permeating the chamber air as clouds of white were tossed haphazardly over his body. His hair was braided back and decorated with baubles and gemstones of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires.

Only after his flesh had been properly respected would more servants emerge from the darkness, carrying pieces of dark armor on silken pillows with golden tassels. Like machines, they would swarm him and start dressing their Emperor piece by piece, each segment of armor strapped to his body at a time.

The servants retreated as quickly as they came, leaving only a fully armored Carnifex behind to stand proudly in the darkness. He whispered a small prayer in Epicant before he left, making his way to his own personal armory to collect his lightsabers and his battle-staff. His staff was covered by a sheet of enchanted vantablack that suppressed the maddening powers of the Skull of Gaius Zhuta, lest the Emperor desire to plunge everyone in his proximity into insanity.

Now that his ritual had concluded, the Emperor rejoined his fellow Sith and hired Hunters in his personal hangar where his shuttle, the Crestfallen, and the Spear II were parked in preparation for rapid deployment.

At that moment the Behemoth and War Fleet Black Iron emerged out of hyperspace above Dubrillion, fighter squadrons launched and gunships and shuttles deployed to reinforce Imperial ground assets. The Crestfallen was among them, carrying the Emperor and everyone who wished to accompany him down to the planet's surface.

Ready for W A R​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Location: Settlement near a Refinery.​

Objective: Head to the Refinery.​

Allies: Sith.​

Nearby: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]​

Enemies (At the Refinery): [member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"]​

​

​

​

The sounds of low, loud and drawn-out cries of pain and muffled sobs still seemed to echo out into the stillness of the room, as if the sound of the screams were still echoing off of the walls. The source of these exclamations of pain and suffering was a human male, stripped so that his torso was bare and tied down with his limbs pulled outwards so that he was spread-eagle. From each of his joints stuck a long, thin, metallic needles, but, other than that, there were no signs of wounds or what might have caused him the pain he had suffered under. The stillness of his chest spelled a story louder than the heavy and sudden quietness - the spark of life had faded from his eyes.

At a nearby table, the cloaked form of Xevek Rakama sat, head bowed slightly so that the shadows cast by the drawn hood of his robes obscured his features from view as he slowly sipped at the amber liquid in the glass held in his cybernetic hand. As he did so he studiously ignored any movement or sound from the man opposite him, content in the burning of the alcohol in his throat and carefully wiping down spit from the skull shaped mask that sat upon the table before him with a piece of shredded shirt - the one that his now deceased prey had been wearing. The man's resistance to pain had crumbled easily before the trained Assassin, but not quickly enough that - in a desperate attempt to either show himself as resistant to Xevek or to encourage the Iridonian to kill him so that he would take his secrets to the afterlife unrevealed - he had been stopped from spitting at Xevek's face when he had loomed above him, preparing his torture.

"A waste of time." Finally, Xevek broke the silence with a single rumbled sentence as he set the empty glass down with a solid thump, frustration colouring his voice as, while he had succeeding in extracting information from his target it had, perhaps come too little too late as the attack that had been suspected as coming had arrived.

Negligently, Xevek waved his now freed cybernetic hand towards the datapad upon which updates of the assault upon Dubrillion were sent to him by the agents of the Sith Assassins scattered across the planet. Some had been assigned to eliminate known rebel sympathisers, some dispatched to work with the Saraaisash and some - like Xevek - had been dispatched to hunt down still hidden sympathisers and unravel the web that had been spun beneath the attention of the Sith. Now though, most driven by the annoyance that such secretive actions had been undertaken, and had been largely successful, the Assassins whom were free to do so were rapidly updating each other as to what was occurring. Of course, in some cases, that wasn't necessary as, outside of the dissident's home, Xevek could hear the chaos that had been sown upon Dubrillion clearly.

Affixing his mask to his face once more, Xevek raised his head so that his gaze so that his single amber eye locked with the visage of Adrian Vandiir. "No matter, come with me. The Refinery that looks to be being targeted is near to here; a quick speeder ride away." What went unsaid verbally but was easily heard through the tightening of his voice was the fact that Xevek suspected that the closeness to the Refinery being conveneantly attacked was by no means an accident. "Besides, we have much to talk of. Your interest in interrogation not the least of it, kep."

Pushing himself to his feet, the shrouded form of Xevek swept out of the home and into the chaos of the streets, approaching one of the two speeders waiting for the pair of Sith as the crowd flowed around him as if he did not exist, their gazes averted by the influence of the Force. Choosing not to wait for long, Xevek paused only for a moment to give Adrian time to catch up before speeding off. After all, where was the advantage in leaving behind a convenient 'meat-shield' should one be needed.