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Star Wars New Sith Trials III: The War of Three

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth, May 27, 2018.

  1. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

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    Welcome to the third installment of The New Sith Trials!

    GAME OVERVIEW

    New Sith Trials III: The War of Three chronicles the continuing story of the Sith Triumvirate and its disciples. As was true of the previous installments, this game will serve as an extension of the EUC Sith Empire. Members of that group will find participation here to be of significant benefit to their progress, but non-members who are interested may still join as a Jedi or Sith character, or even a non-force user. Players will be given a degree of control of storylines based on the actions their characters take. However, GMs do reserve the right to steer as they see fit to fulfill planned story events. GMs are Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, and Darth_wanderguard.



    HOW TO JOIN

    To join the game, first read the entire opening post, as well as the opening post of the Library Thread.

    Next, fill out the character sheet template found in that thread, and private message to Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, and Darth_wanderguard for discussion and approval. They will advise on the next steps.

    Lastly, creativity in character creation is encouraged - characters with unusual species and backgrounds are appreciated, provided that they work within the narrative framework of the story and universe in which it takes place. Players should be willing to work with GMs in developing characters who fit the environment and are still the vision of their creators.



    CHARACTER DEATH

    As has been demonstrated in the previous installment, character death can and will happen over the course of the game. It should be a rare occurrence, but players who fail to follow instructions out of character, and/or intentionally disrespect a high ranking lord in-character may find themselves dead. The player in question may create a new character if they wish to continue playing - that new character's level, and the corresponding player's standing within the larger Sith Empire organization - are at the full discretion of the GMs and their advisors.



    THE STORY SO FAR

    Following the events of 155 ABY, the remaining survivors of the Battle of Mortis flee across time to 5 ABY, one year following the destruction of the second Death Star, and reluctantly swear allegiance to Grand Admiral Thrawn and his Empire of the Hand for the sake of their own survival.

    Installed as the governors of Zakuul, rechristened New Moraband, the Sith begin to make their mark in this new time. Darth Insipid begins laying plans and enlists seven Sith to recreate an order of his own vision, Darth Bellorum scours the unknown regions for commodities to sell on the black market, and Darth Haretisch secures resources for an Imperial intelligence agency consisting of his own power base.

    Meanwhile Darth Syren meets a peculiar cult leader on Taris, Darth Serapis is briefly taken prisoner by an adolescent genius, Darth Kronos encounters the fledgling First Order whilst on diplomatic assignment, Aryan Graul finds his loyalties divided, Darth Hades resolves to be Insipid’s undoing, Darth Saadi becomes the Emperor’s new apprentice, Soliloquy gains a new body, Darth Ravenous undergoes a diabolical procedure to become a Sithspawn, the cyborg Grievance Vexx begins to learn about the force from Darth Draconis, Darth Anark’s estranged brother emerges, and Cocytus awaits promotion.

    Ultimately all paths lead to one destination - a luxury casino ship, a retrofitted Star Destroyer, named the Luxury Elite. The Sith strike up a business deal with the crime family which owns and operates the resort, and Grievance Vexx is scheduled to duel Darth Alva in two months time in a high-profile prizefight.

    When the day comes, however, betrayal strikes the Sith once again. Darth Insipid reveals himself as the new leader of the First Order and carries out a successful attack on the Night Herald’s capital ship with help from Kwea Acantha. Bellorum enacts her own coup, murdering the entire crime family, having paid off the ship’s security team months before using the funds from a jewel heist. A First Order dreadnought decants from hyperspace, and the Luxury Elite erupts into violence at every corner as Bellorum orders the other triumvirs and their forces removed from the ship.

    Ultimately Bellorum secures control of the ship and her enemies are routed. The stage is set for the War of Three.



    GAME RULES

    1. All posts must be TOS-friendly.
    2. Character level in-game is tied intrinsically with rank in the Sith Empire.
    3. The GM team reserves the right to alter or disregard any post and/or remove any player or character from the game due to godmoding, unfollowed instructions, or behavioral concerns.
    4. The GM team retains final decision on all story-related decisions for all characters within the framework of the game. By submitting a character sheet you agree that the GMs may resolve your character's story any way they see fit - but the GMs claim no exclusivity in the character's use with regards to other games. There is no such thing as intellectual property among creations of Star Wars fan fiction.
    5. The main objectives are to have fun, and to tell a compelling story. This game is not a competition, save with ourselves. Be courteous to your fellow players and mindful of their experience.
    6. Challenge yourself to improve. The GM team is here as a resource - consult on anything you're unsure about and ask as many questions as you need to. Take note of the good and bad habits of other players.
    7. When creating a new character, keep in mind that the game takes place in 6 ABY, in the new Disney continuity. In other words, there is no Jedi Order currently in existence, and any trained force users will have been in hiding dating back to Order 66.
    8. All combo posts must be approved by a GM.
     
    Last edited: May 27, 2018
  2. Csilla Informer

    Csilla Informer Jedi Padawan

    Registered:
    Jan 21, 2017
    The March... To War!

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    Enthralled by the quarreling factions of the insidious Sith Order, the unknown regions descend further into despotic violence with each passing day.

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    Shown above, Stormtroopers of the Fist establish an important outpost on a strategic forest world.

    As the Twilight Sun touts its charitable works on impoverished worlds, the First Order continues to raid outlying systems and the Imperium of the Fist attempts to secure the political framework left behind by Grand Admiral Thrawn.

    New Moraband finds itself at a strategic crossroads, and in the crosshairs of all three factions as the war gears up for its inevitable first pitched battle. Each side covets the system as a launching point for further campaigns - but will the denizens of this world be the ones to pay the price?

    Purchase a one-year subscription to the Csilla Informer now and save 150 credits. Receive all the urgent updates on the cataclysmic war likely to destroy everything you love!
     
  3. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    GM Tag 1 of 3

    IC: Darth Insipid the Malevolent

    En route

    Half a year passed like days, and the Unknown Regions, fundamentally, changed.

    The Empire of the Hand had been undercut by the alliances between the Chiss and Hapans with the Twilight Sun, and in the absence of Grand Admiral Thrawn had been reinvented into the Imperium, which inherited the majority of the territory from Rakata Prime to Nirauan, meanwhile the First Order had agitated across the distance between the Imperium and Chiss Space; worlds lived in fear of whether the Imperium was going to annex them, or the First Order was going to raid them, or the Sun was going to target their young, their culture, and reshape it.

    Resources were pilfered with desperation by the First Order and Imperium, who had been behind in the early bloodletting. The Syndicate had connected the major economies of the region in advance of the War of Three, and was spending credits on building mercenary armies of the Leech Legions, the Mandalorian Death Watch, and the Mecrosa, even as the other two more martial powers activated fleets. The Imperium upgraded aging and damaged Destroyers which had fled into the region from the Galactic Civil War, while the First Order looked to reinvent the Imperial Navy as its own, adding shields to TIE designs, reworking Stormtrooper armour, and working on prototype vessels in yards they assembled and disassembled as soon as they were finished the construction.

    Such a prototype was in Lord Insipid’s possession now.

    A Resurgent-class Star Destroyer, three kilometers of firepower and carrying twelve squadrons of fighter craft, the first of its line, and thus named Resurgent. For that is what Supreme Leader Insipid was; resurgent. His fleet would be superior to that of the Old Empire, and reborn anew. Blazing through hyperspace with three Raider-class corvettes, he mused that this was the moment that they all had been building towards.

    For all their efforts; for all their scurrying; for all their planning, and scheming, and deployments.

    There was but one place where they could guarantee that all three of them would come.

    That all three of them would be fight.

    That two of them would burn.

    That place was Zakuul – renamed New Moraband.

    The ruler of this world would be the heir of the New Sith Empire.

    The momentum that had swung towards Bellorum would end – or it would become solidified. The First Order would have a base of operations to reinforce, to consolidate, to deploy from. The Imperium would firm up its control of the line between the Known and Unknown and could make steps to cut off the connection between the Syndicate and the First Order and any potential aid from allies, current or otherwise. It was a turning point.

    And so here he was, not standing on the bridge of course, for he was a frontline commander. Learned from Darth Caedus, he knew the value of loyalty, and the fact that Admiral Sloane preferred to be a strategist anyway. She would have latitude to act, but it would be his plan he followed. In the bay there were two shuttles, a single prison box, and a squadron of brand new TIE/FO fighters. Shield equipped; hyperdrive equipped; missile equipped.

    Insipid had a single shuttle to himself and Soliloquy, designated Lead. The other one was to involve the three Sith, Saadi, Mallace and Cocytus, designated Assault. The third was for High Lord Hespar, designated Victory. Kwea and Anark had been assigned to the fighter squadron, designated Shadow, with five fighters under their respective commands. Kwea was First, and Anark was Second. Ravenous was, and had been, for all that time, save for the brief moment in which doctors and surgeons had wrestled him to the ground to heal him, in isolation, and then in the prison box, which had been specifically modified for him, designated Beast.

    He spoke to them all, gathered as they were.

    “We are here, today, to reclaim our home. We were there too briefly before things went awry. Before loyalties were split apart. Now, we come not as refugees trying to rebuild our empire within another, but as masters of our own fate.”

    A liquid shrug. “Today we start that anew. We have Intelligence that not all the Sith who Bellorum tricked into allying with her have gone so willingly. Serapis, at very least, as well as perhaps Lord Draconis, were both noted as having been prisoners at various points in the last few months. We have sought to prevent Haretisch discovering this, and we have also wondered whether this is setup information.”

    “We have ascertained that they are being held in the tower of the Temple.” He pointed to himself and Soliloquy. “Lead will take point on the offence towards this, with two four-man Trooper Squads. Assault, you will drive for the surface escorted by First Shadow, with three four-man Trooper Squads, while Second Shadow focuses on holding and attempting to shoot down enemy landers. The Beast will be held in reserve,” he spoke up, making sure that Ravenous could hear. “He may not even be deployed to the theatre.” Insipid’s eyes turned on Hespar. “Victory will be deployed to hunt down and kill the main three targets of the Twilight Sun, who holds New Moraband.”

    Those three were Darth Bellorum, Grand Vizier Ike, and the traitor Darth Kronos.

    If any of them were present, or identified, Hespar would be released to track them down and kill them.

    Strictly speaking, Haretisch and Aryan Graul should have been on her kill list, but he had plans for Haretisch, and he would personally deal with the former ‘Darth Skelm’.

    Very personally.

    A chime rang out. Grand Admiral Sloane’s voice echoed out. “We are three minutes to reversion, Supreme Leader.”

    Darth Insipid the Malevolent widened his smile to them all.

    “Shall we, my friends?”

    TAG: @Darth Kronos, @Mitth_Fisto, @Dagobahsystem, @WookieeRage, @Halle Dray, @Snokers, @corinthia, @dragonsith13 (context), @DarthIshyZ (context), @HanSolo29 (context)


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
     
  4. Darth_wanderguard

    Darth_wanderguard Game Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Apr 26, 2005
    GM UPDATE 2 OF 3

    IC: Admiral Jerod & Darth HaretischNew Moraband



    The war machine springs to life.

    It was six months to the day since the Luxury Elite. No less than two dozen ships of the Fist decanted at once from hyperspace above New Moraband, with a black Star Destroyer at the helm. The Intrepid, flagship of the Lord Imperator himself. Behind it, a pair of Imperial II-class capital ships of the same ilk, The Standardizer and The Repentance. A complement of Ardent-class frigates, Imperial support vessels, and various transports rounded out the flotilla.

    Admiral Jerod had the bridge of The Repentance, and wasted no time in moving the fleet like pieces on a Dejarik board. TIE squadrons spat en masse from each destroyer, fighters clustering around the transports to offer protection, while bombers formed up for assault waves with interceptors as escorts.

    “Eyes open 3rd Fleet, the First Order is already here,” Jerod’s voice was broadcast across the fleet, reaching every bridge. “Transports dip into low orbit and release drop ships. Frigates move up to protect rear of Intrepid, Standardizer, and Repentance. All ships move forward to engage. Cut off their angle on the transports. General Vexx, you are clear to proceed with the ground assault. Standby for further instruction from the Imperator.”

    ———————

    From the bridge of The Intrepid, a veritable front row seat, Darth Haretisch watched the naval portion of the Battle of New Moraband unfold. Jerod would execute the battle plan to perfection, he had little doubt; cover the transports from above and establish superiority to protect the siege from orbital bombardment. The Imperium’s larger numbers would be invaluable in that respect, in terms of sheer mass and volume. Firepower-wise, the sides were a bit more even as Insipid had arrived with a heretofore unseen prototype Star Destroyer which scanners were measuring at 2,500 meters. That alone could prove a challenge.

    The ground assault was something else entirely. Drop ships couldn’t safely land near the citadel, and so would need to set up at the outskirts and pelt the hostile militia-occupied inner city with artillery before marching to the gates of the Citadel itself. The siege in its early stages would be completely exposed if Jerod failed to secure the skies, at least until beneath cover of the city.

    Fifty some odd drop ships were descending rapidly toward the surface. Speed was the key. The fifty first ship, however, was an outlier. A single Lambda-class shuttle - the personal transport of General Vexx, gifted to him by Darth Haretisch. The cyborg had shown his true nature on the Luxury Elite, and this stubborn loyalty even in the face of defeat had not gone unnoticed. The Night Herald come Emperor-General, Lord Imperator, had thusly taken Grievance under his wing. He had seen in Vexx a hunger for purpose, an uncontrolled blaze needing direction, and so for months he had personally tutored the Kaleesh in warfare. From study of operational art to the lower levels of the battlefield - small group tactics, skirmishing, flanking. Already a capable warrior before, he had been properly molded into a formidable commander, and trusted as ranking general of every ground-based force in the Imperium of the Fist, second in that regard only to Darth Haretisch himself.

    General Vexx was not alone, however. Carried with him, Darth Odeke and Darth Francium - two recruits plucked from the æther of the unknown regions, capable force users in their own right who would now be groomed as generals themselves. Though trained force users had been all but exterminated from the galaxy proper, the same was not true of the unknown, though the former members of the now defunct Sith Triumvirate had approached the issue with a sort of gentlemen’s agreement; any known force users would choose a side or die. There was no neutrality to be had in this war.

    “General,” the Imperator’s voice sounded from the ship’s console, “commence the bombardment straightaway once the guns are in place. Bellorum has bought the city and littered it with nuisances just as our intel stated. Reconnaissance fighters will scout enemy artillery continuously to transmit datar in real-time, wait for intel before beginning your march. Protect the guns at all cost and expect heavy resistance.”

    With that, he cut the line. Darth Haretisch despised chaining calls together, but at the moment it was unavoidable. He nodded to the comms officer. “Patch me through to the Arae.”

    ——————-

    It was late morning on New Moraband, and yet there was little sunlight. The sky was a dim and sickly green, the ground veiled in fog. The land was little more than marsh outside of the city, soft mud where it hadn’t been built up to suit foot traffic and building foundations like in the city. This was unbeaten path. A squad of stormtroopers stepped off of the unfurled ramp of their transport only to sink almost to the knee in the sticky muck. The ships too would appear to list as they settled.

    Behind the stormtrooper lines, scores of SP.9s were setting up to bombard selective targets inside the city limits, supported by AT-STs at the rear.

    From the outskirts of the city, a low rumble was escalating. Within only minutes the siege was under heavy fire from charging militia forces - and would face a miserable uphill slog through the mud to reach solid ground. The militiamen came in waves, some on foot, some in landspeeders strafing Imperial lines to take potshots with slugthrowers, some armed with cortosis-weave melee weapons and some with blasters. None, or very few, were heavily armored. In short they were underequipped and undertrained to face an Imperial force, but due to circumstances possessed a terrain advantage which would nearly level the playing field.

    TAG: @Kaleesh-Cyborg, @MASTER Vo’Un’Var, @Quinlan Vos

    OOC: Kaleesh go first, Var and Vos wait for his post and take his cues. Ask any questions in the group convo.

    ———————

    Simultaneous to the battle, a larger flotilla was arriving above Nirauan. Half a dozen Star Destroyers, with as many frigates and support ships in tow. Enough firepower to wipe the capital city from the map, if it came to that. Darth Haretisch hoped it wouldn’t. He hoped the show of power would be enough. It would be such a terrible waste otherwise.

    The planet was being governed by what remained of Thrawn’s council - nine elected officials, one from each of the most populous systems in his old Empire including Nirauan itself, representative of not only their own but the less populous worlds surrounding them. The result was a rudimentary collection of representative districts. The councilors’ control over their own worlds respectively was little more than name recognition, in truth they had no power beyond the capital. Not without a military to support them. Nirauan, however, was firmly under their influence. And with a strong hand, and some military heft, there was a chance Thrawn’s political framework could be salvaged and revitalized by his government’s successor state.

    This was where Aryan Graul and his companion, Darth Syren, situated on the bridge of the Arae, became a valuable asset.

    “Prime Minister, Lady Syren,” a technician turned from her console to address the pair. “Incoming transmission from the Lord Imperator?” it was phrased as a question, though presumed a foregone conclusion the call would be answered.

    TAG: @HanSolo29, @QueenSabe7
     
  5. Lady Belligerent

    Lady Belligerent • WNU Adoptions Coordinator• star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    GM update 3 of 3

    IC: Empress Bellorum, Queen of the Twilight


    Six months prior, aboard the Luxury Elite...


    Bellorum had gone directly to her suite and then eventually to her war room. She’d stopped in the entrance and stared blankly at the station where Zalen would have normally been seated. Instead the seat was empty and the display with dark.


    “Traitor,” she muttered through clenched teeth. It was a subject she clearly didn’t wish to discuss and the few beings who were present did not comment.


    Amara and VPO had followed a few steps behind her, and both remained silent and waited. There was the possibility that VPO had been about to make some comments, but Amara had nudged the snarky droid and shook her head urging him to stay silent.


    Bellorum had some decisions to make since Ike’s production on the bridge, some expected, a few unexpected, and one very expecting Esme. The latter being a minor surprise, but she’d gathered the details from Ike’s expression alone. They were on the same page where that issue was concerned.


    “The Queen Mother has extended an invitation for us to come to Hapes,” Bellorum addressed the team assembled. “Begin planning a brief trip,” she seemed to be weighing how long it would be wise to leave her citadel on New Moraband, “I will make an appearance and begin negotiations for new manufacturing facilities within the Hapes Consortium, then come directly back here.”


    Amara’s comm pulsed and she glanced at it. “Empress,” Amara spoke up since the dark lady had paused, “Lord Hades is on his way and requests to meet with you alone.”


    “Yes,” Bellorum replied curty, “send him to my sitting room and make sure we aren’t interrupted.” The Empress left the war room without giving further orders, so they scurried to begin the itinerary for a Hapes visit.


    A tall woman glanced at Zalen’s empty seat and sighed, “too bad red took off, she would have been helpful with all these bloody royal protocols.” The woman scowled back at her own display and began compiling a cheat sheet for the Empress to study.


    Amara had VPO quickly deliver a tea tray to Bellorum’s sitting room before Hades arrived. The droid had been instructed to deliver Hades directly upon arrival and then to make himself scarce.


    Bellorum had much to do while she waited, and she’d been typing furiously on her datapad searching for what they’d need. There was already a neonatologist on the LE’s medical staff, but there was one specialist she’d need and rumor was that there was one who kept to himself in the Hapes cluster.


    She’d been deep into her searching when VPO entered with Hades.


    “Leave,” she told the droid without leaving room for any discussion or delay. Bellorum had sensed an unusual edge to Hades while on the bridge earlier and she knew he was anxious to speak with her.


    She’d indicated a chair across the low table from her, “would you join me for tea?”. Her question asked casually as if the whole production earlier hadn’t taken place and they now had a massive business enterprise to run. It was as if she didn’t have to decide the fate of an infant, protect her Citadel, and learn how to act in the presence of royals. Instead she gave Hades her full attention.


    She’d known he had gone after Insipid, but she was in no way prepared for what he pulled from his robes and placed on the table before her.


    The Empress’ eyes widened at the sight of this particular weapon. “I’m impressed,” she told Hades. Her words were scarcely a whisper, and her fingers stroked the lightsaber that Hades had laid upon the tea table.


    It was Insipid’s own lightsaber. One that had been wielded by the Lady Lumiya. The hilt felt cool and was as soft as the finest shimmer silk. Bellorum had seen, and coveted, the magnificent weapon for years. Now it was in her possession.


    Takin it in hand, she stood and ignited the weapon. The shimmering silver blade leapt to life and hummed softly.


    It was light in her grasp and extremely well balanced. Bellorum almost felt sacrilegious to hold it...almost.


    “Well done, Lord Hades,” Bellorum extinguishes the blade and placed the hilt back beside the holocron on the table. “This is a welcome surprise,”


    She sat back down and picked up her teacup, “This holocron is a mystery, so for now I am placing it in a vault until we have time to study it. You have my word that I will not handle it again until you are present.”


    ———————


    One week prior...


    Deward would prove to be a major issue. She’d sent a team to that damned fortress in the past and only Serapis had returned. In his debriefing they’d compiled a few details that could help the next team. Mainly that it would take a firm hand and someone who could be creative to succeed in capturing and removing him from his prison.


    Leda. Bellorum knew her to be no nonsense. She was clever. More clever than this uppity brat, and still itching to prove herself after the events in the hangar six months before.


    She couldn’t go alone, though. She would need a partner, and Astara had proven her own loyalty as well as her capabilities.


    Bellorum tapped her datapad and then looked across the table to Leda and Astara. The datapads in front of them lit up and showed the image of a filthy male human child.


    “This is Deward,” she began, “do not be deceived by his appearance. He is every bit the spoiled miserable brat that you will read about in his bio.” She leaned forward and continued, “there is an ancient guardian on the fortress grounds, and I would avoid it if possible, but prepare for the worst. Serapis described it as a giant tree.” The Empress paused and forwarded another image to the two women, “here is an artist rendering based upon Serapis’ description.”


    VPO entered the war room and loudly settled a tray holding a pitcher of ice water and glasses. Bellorum stared coldly at the droid until he backed away in silence and left them again to their discussion. The nosy bastard wanted to know what she was doing so he picked the most obvious method of interrupting. She’d have to yell at him later about it.


    “The guardian appears easier to handle than the boy. You need to always be two steps ahead.” Bellorum had arranged an older transport for them to use, “the ship will be devoured by the ground cover, so make sure you have arranged back up signals for retrieval.”


    Bellorum stood and made to leave. “There’s a girl in one of the holding cells here on the ship, Alana, take her. She’s claimed to be scrappy and resourceful, and I’d like to see if she’s telling the truth.”


    The Empress was standing at the doorway when she turned back to the Sith, “Prepare well, and leave within the week. I don’t care what it takes, bring me that child...alive.”


    TAG: @QueenSabe7, @WookieeRage, @SkywalkerShine


    —————————————-


    Present day...


    Bellorum’s trip to Hapes had been productive. The Luxury Elite was a big hit, and there was a constant stream of air traffic shuttling guests in and out. She appeared with the Royal family at a state dinner, and at a reception held in her honor. Ike and Esme had accompanied her, and Esme had been so enchanted by one of the smaller Hapan worlds that she’d requested permission to stay behind and assist in oversight of the Empress’ business interests there. It was a very welcome request and a solution to so many things that Bellorum had gladly obliged, and left Esme with a small team of advisors while she and Ike returned aboard the LE.


    Now she had bigger issues.


    After the coup, Bellorum had tasked Hades and Kronos with fortifying and defending her Citadel on New Moraband. It was fortunate that Lord Hades had the access to resources and enough connections to build a larger military force and train the fleet for any attack by air. Such an attack would happen sooner than later, she knew. Simultaneously, she had appointed Kronos to a command level commission within her Twilight Guard. He would only answer to Leda or Hades, and obviously his Empress.


    In the interceding months they would have been plagued by a number of local groups, gangs itching to fight and see what they could steal. Bellorum had been clear that they need not bother with trying to take prisoners from the thugs, and instead to use them as an opportunity for live combat training for the troops. In time she would solve the problem herself by simply buying off the gangs. No problem was too big or too small to throw money at.


    And so six months had passed as the pair worked to prepare for the attack Bellorum had known to be inevitable. Darth Draconis and Jwob Sebb had spent all of it in chains. They had been in special cells within the Citadel since the cleanup after the fight, far away from one another and from any other potential conspirators. Bellorum had indeed been shocked to see Draconis on the bridge, less so at his presence and more when she learned he had come willingly. She knew better than to grant him even the slightest measure of trust. Serapis on the other hand had been cornered by the Twilight Guard and brought to her by force, after turning on Astara who had remained loyal in the chaos.


    Now, the inevitable attack on the Citadel had happened. As the Luxury Elite decanted from hyperspace, it would find itself nose-to-nose with two competing fleets. The Imperium and the First Order had filled the sky and were now trading fire and jockeying for position. Drop ships were heading to the surface, no doubt to lay siege.


    It was time to set the plan in motion.


    Bellorum opened a line to Hades and Kronos in the Citadel. They would have already been aware of the impending assault. “It’s time. Get our friends Draconis and Serapis to a shuttle, send them to The Atonement,” she instructed, referencing the 600m prison ship currently in low orbit above the Citadel. “Arrangements will be made to receive them. And then get to your fighters.”


    TAG: @E. L.Knight, @Darth Kronos OOC: @dragonsith13 @DarthIshyZ please let Hades and Kronos come for you before reacting to your situation.
     
    Last edited: Jun 7, 2018
  6. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Soliloquy
    In Transit

    It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. These were the times that try men's and women's and whatever's souls and show absolutely nothing and everything in short order. That was what they were about these days, Order. After all they were the First Order, or rather their Supreme Leader was.

    Now that was something to turn and tossle upon the back of one's mind. This one that they followed, their Emperor come Supreme Leader had gone through rather a many step and body process to come where he was today. That process having been deeply mired in titles and psychiatric conditions that were well on the way to becoming a litany of fiendish sorts best described by and only to the dead. It nearly saddened a facet that Deadwar or whatever his name was not here to see such things, and more so that the woman that had started it's journey by placing it in a library ontop of common table had no life yet to draw in this universe. Although it would always hold red twi'leks in a special part of it's crystalline heart because of her. In Spite of her. Due to her. Ah the effects we women can have, and those we men can as well.

    It was all fantastical in a way, the ides and passing of these, these last few months. It wanted to think on them some but the present pressing of the moment was upon them. For once more they were valet and chauffeur to the Supreme Leader as they were heading out to fight once more in the skies of New Morraband. Only this time, hopefully, this new body of the Supreme Leader would not be swayed by tabloid articles or simple betrayals to act rashly.

    The speech at least was a good start, and so they cheered at the appropriate time. The end.

    TAG: @ First Order
     
  7. WookieeRage

    WookieeRage Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Feb 3, 2016
    IC: Darth Ravenous
    Prison Block, Solitary confinement..

    *Drip. Drip. Drip.*


    The sounds of condensation from a leaky and broken ventilator were the only sound Ravenous heard in his confinement. Units of time that passed were non-existent as the dripping continued. He resided in the corner of his cell, crouched, meditating; mostly to keep his mind off the hunger. He had not fed since he arrived in this place. What was he to eat? Surely the guards wouldn't sneak him an arm or leg with a mind trick. He slobbed his hand across his mouth to clear off the froth as the thought passed. He knew why he was here but knew not how long. Had the Emperor forgotten him? To be locked away after his loyalties remained true to Insipid. As days continued to pass, different memories tickled his mind. Darth Kronos' treachery was foremost. He stewed on this often, mostly to keep his thoughts off Insipid's orders to lock him away. He knew he would eventually be let go after he proved himself an obedient weapon. Doubt rotted the optimistic thought every time, however. He would then return to thoughts of Darth Kronos the traitor.

    *CLANG!*

    The sound of the door of the solitary confinement block echoed off everything.

    A new sound...

    A pair of footsteps approached his cell and stopped right outside before the slider opened. His eyes burned from the light and his arm formed a shield to separate himself into darkness once more. A man's voice pinged against his ears,

    "Let's have a look at this thing."

    A snicker was heard from the other body.

    "I can't see a kriffing thing in there, c'mon let's get out of here before they know where we are. The Supreme Leader would not hesitate to kill us if he found out."

    "Idiots, he knows already. He knows all."

    The deep voice of the Sith-Spawn haunted the second man and it was apparent in his voice; Now wavering.

    "C'mon, let's go!" The first man piped up again. "SHUT UP IN THERE!"

    Ravenous raised his hand to penetrate one of their minds to reach inside but no reaction happened. The one man laughed before pressing the shock treatment button. It debilitated Ravenous enough he fell forward, spitting as he coughed. He proceeded to punch the durasteel flooring of the cell and filled the cell block before the two men closed the shutter again; Their footsteps puttering away until the door was heard clanging closed again.

    The Beast will be held in reserve... He may not even be deployed in the theatre...

    He caught that bit and nearly choked. He must be close, he did the only thing he could at this point and let out a terrifying howl, loud enough to chill the soul of the bravest of warriors. He must be let out. He must...

    Tag: @First Order
     
    Last edited: Jun 8, 2018
  8. Kaleesh-Cyborg

    Kaleesh-Cyborg Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jan 4, 2017
    General Grievance Vexx
    Aboard Lambda Class Shuttle Counterstrike


    Much has changed in six months, especially for one Kaleesh cyborg finding himself a place among the Sith despite the Order being divided three ways. He still remembers it all very clearly; the feeling of being trapped without a choice; armed troopers closing in on him; his daring experiment with the powers of the Force alive and well at the seat of his soul. It had cost him his arm; more appropriately, his father's arm. It had been a hell of a struggle resigning himself to giving it up as it had been damaged beyond repair. He flexes the skeletal fingers of his upgraded appendage, still able to be split into two arms, but now equipped with reinforced conduit to handle his power without causing damage to himself.

    As he sits in the shuttle gifted to him which he had christened "Counterstrike", his thoughts are reflective. He finds himself thinking about his old master, Lord Draconis, and wondering what had become of him in the destruction of the Luxury Elite. A twisted part of him misses the mysterious man who had broken his stubborn will against the Force, yet another part of him hates Draconis for awakening his power and prodding him to use it. It has been nothing but trouble ever since. Still, he wonders what happened to his master. Had he been killed? Captured? Had he escaped and simply vanished as Vexx had wanted to do himself? The cyborg feels a stab of envy if that is the case.

    He is wary of Haretisch. But then, Grievance Vexx is wary of everybody, rarely affording anyone much in the way of trust. The Night Herald's training did have more appeal to him though, especially since his revolved more around the broad scope of warfare and strategizing and less around the intoxicating power of the Force. While Vexx has learned to accept that he is counted among those gifted with the Force, he still refrains from using it accept in times of desperation or when he finds that there is no other way to fight off an enemy. He had learned his lesson well from his encounter with Darth Alva and the hours that followed in which Draconis had held him captive and tormented his mind until his will had been broken. He would never allow such a thing to happen to him again if he could help it.

    Drawing his mind back to the present, Vexx is not ignorant of the two aspiring generals accompanying him. While he is not one to enjoy the company, he doesn't mind being in a position to share knowledge and experience. This sort of thing is built into him because of his culture. While he does not personally care about Darth Odeke or Darth Francium as of yet, he will do his due diligence in helping them reach their goals. After all, it will only serve to help Haretisch reach his goal in the end. The cyborg knows they are all pawns and the words of Syren still echo in his mind: "We are all in this for ourselves!"

    That statement alone is perhaps what has kept him grounded here among the Sith in spite of his desperately painful longing to go his own way. She had said it with such conviction, yet her protective actions over the girl called Leda had contradicted every word, leaving Vexx confused and trying to riddle this out all this time. The Sith are so different from his people and yet...they aren't as different as he had first perceived them to be. He shakes his head free of his musings as the Night Herald contacts him with specific instructions regarding the current ground assault mission and he inwardly scolds himself for letting his laser focus wander. The battlefield is no place for reflection.


    "Yes, my master," he replies calmly, "I specialize in dealing with nuisances and will be watching for the aforementioned intel. Resistance only makes a fight more...interesting."

    Another waiting game. Vexx has extraordinary self control and patience, so waiting is no deterrence to him. He can wait for inexhaustible hours for an enemy to make a mistake in hand-to-hand combat. Likewise, he can wait for days to receive pertinent information to aid his cause. He would rather have all the facts before him prior to making a move, so logical is his electronically enhanced mind. He looks to the two underlings accompanying him.

    "The two of you will stay close when we launch the attack for the purpose of hands-on experience," he tells them, his masked face expressionless, "By the way, you should know that this faction you have been taken into and this experience being given to you is a valuable gift not extended to just anyone. Yes, you chose to join us when you could have joined the other two just as easily, but you have been seen as worthy to be given the opportunity for growth without being put through seven layers of hell first. Consider yourselves very fortunate."

    There is just the slightest hint of bitterness in the Kaleesh general's tone as he turns to look out the viewport again. Indeed, he has been through seven layers of hell and more just to find himself here. While it is not where the deepest recesses of his heart wants to be, it is not without its advantages. At least he gets to fight and gain experience and skill and he is presented with challenges that push him beyond what he thinks he is capable of.

    "Odeke. Francium," his mechanically aided voice rumbles, "I will give you the challenge of setting up outer defenses for the guns. I will arrange my own defenses closer within yours. You are new and if the guns are taken, there will be punishment for the failure. In this way, should your defenses fail, you will have mine to fall back on to hopefully prevent any loss. That being said, if failure is the outcome, the failure will ultimately fall on me because, as the more experienced, there is no reason for the enemy to penetrate my fortifications."

    Contrary to the methods of the Sith in which failure brings punishment upon the one with whom the failure starts, Vexx finds it further reaching to stake himself on their performance. In the end, they will all be punished, but the psychological element of placing his own fate in the hands of the less experienced often has a tendency to make them be more cautious than they would be if only their own necks were on the block. He had learned this from his old master as well and it is an element he will continue to utilize whenever the opportunity presents itself.

    In matters of the bombardment, Vexx does not relish the idea of trying to maneuver his three-hundred-fifty pound durasteel body through knee-deep mud. He has a few choice words for Haretisch on the matter, but they are words he will never speak out loud thanks to his self-control. He will put up with it. After all, his medical droid will have the nasty job of flushing his joints later. He has legitimate concerns about the situation though. With the enemy attacking from an uphill position, they are in danger whether they are trained and armored or not. The enemy has that "high ground" advantage Vexx has heard tell of and he doesn't like it. Turning the tide quickly is definitely among his higher ranking priorities.


    Tag: @Darth_wanderguard @Quinlan Vos @Master Vo'Un'Var
     
  9. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Darth Anark

    Moments from mayhem...



    A towering figure, dressed in black plated armour with emerald green linings, glided along the walkway to the already primed TIE fighter.


    Darth Anark was muttering to himself; some disjointed staccato of sentences about Hutt’s crafting opera songs.


    The Sith Inquisitor climbed into the illuminated cockpit of his fighter and flipped the comms switch above his head. He keyed in a code to engage the thrusters and felt the ship come to life all around him.


    “Shadow two,” as if toying with the words in his mind, “shadow two,” he whispered to himself, grinning.


    The TIE began to hover and climb in altitude. Anark watched the stormtroopers below become smaller and smaller as it did.


    Where once, months ago, his standing in the Sith Empire was shaken and uncertain – where his feelings towards Insipid, Haretisch, and Bellorum had turned to disgust and disillusion – especially towards the former, he now knew that now was the time to choose a side. This war would shape the galaxy, as Palpatine had, Dark Side rest him. As every war had before this. History is the history or war. Nothing else, he mused. And today the galaxy would hear the drums of victory on New Moraband. The victory of The First Order.


    Anark focused his mind. His face adopting a look of calm determination as the TIE shot forward, that infamous scream emanating from it as it left the hangar.


    The starscape greeted him. The battle had already begun. Laser fire criss-crossed everywhere. Frigates were being knocked off course and consumed by the firepower of larger frigates. Smaller fighters exploded and spun out of sight at every angle in the distance. Anark opened the channel between he and the five fighters under his command who had followed him into space in two rows of two and a lone fighter at the tail.

    “Heed my every order,” he said, in an almost indifferent tone, “until further instruction, our goal is to keep the pathway on-world clear for our forces. Engage any enemy attempting to land and wipe them out. Stay in formation and remember, soldiers of The First Order, Today is ours!”


    Anark had barely finished when a crimson bolt shot past his right wing. He couldn’t identify the attacker but this prompted him to activate the shields and ensure they were at one hundred percent. As Shadow Two darted further towards the planet’s atmosphere, the second TIE on the left exploded into a brilliant inferno before being immediately extinguished from existence by the vacuum of space. They had lost one already.


    “Close the gap!” he bellowed.


    Anark pushed his ship to full throttle and began targeting would-be landers.


    “Here we go…”



    TAG: @ First Order
     
    Last edited: Jun 10, 2018
  10. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Bo Etraa
    Citadel, New Moraband...



    Etraa has received the call.

    He rushes into a glass turbo lift and hits the descent button, all the way to the grounds of the Citadel.

    His garb is just as flamboyant and loud as ever; a pristine white doublet with trims of red-gold and a trailing over-cloak to match with the sigil of Twlight Sun upon it’s brooch, his combat bottoms conceal a defender-sporting blaster pistol, retractable combat staff, and his complete lack of manhood, after his crusade on the Luxury Elite.

    Bo was given the opportunity to have a prosthetic appendage put in place but resolved that it would probably leave him even more depressed about the situation.

    He stands, although sweating and stressed, straight-backed and composed as he watches New Moraband’s horizon disappear behind the mountains in the distance.

    Part of him feels as though he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

    But a bigger part of him knows that war is his arena.

    He grasps the turbo lifts stability bar with one bejewelled hand and sucks in a deep breath before walking briskly out of the automatic doors.

    ---

    In the hangar, Bo looks out at what he can see of the city beyond the citadel. He wonders how much of it will be left when the day is over.

    Twilight Sun has the finances to test a variety of fighters and starships for its fleet. The choice is staggering in the hangar. Pristine fighters, Nubian to Corellian are on offer for the taking. The Dark Lady has given them free reign in this regard. Bo’s eyes settle almost immediately on a gleaming white Scimtar. He is confident - some might even say arrogant - about his dynamic skill set, but piloting is one he has some reservations about.

    ---

    Up in space, chaos has already ensued. Bo pulls the top button of his doublet loose and grabs the weapon controls. He looks over at one of the worlds three moons as the scimtar accellerates towards the battle, he wonders for a moment how many citadels will be erected upon its soil, should they be victorious.

    Shortly after his mind registers a colossal destroyer emerge from hyperspace, a group of fighters depart and head for the front lines in space.

    That familiar jolt goes through him. His brother is there. Among their adversaries ranks. His heart sinks in his chest. They are bound by The Force as well as by blood.

    He can feel that it’s him.

    His first instinct is to try to patch through to his comm frequency, but he halts himself.

    Bo lets off an accidental stray shot from the cannons in his fright that almost clips the wing of the ship he suspects of containing Kade.

    What in the blazes am I doing?

    He sees the Empress in his minds eye, and the glory he could reap. He adjusts his position and targets the TIE behind the leader. He doesn’t think twice before firing. It’s a sitting duck from this angle. It only takes three shots before the fighter explodes, and Bo hears its debris whack against his viewport in the wake of the attack.

    For over a year he has sought out his brother, trekking across the galaxy, to every seedy cantina and hostile moon inbetween, and now, when he has a shot to focus on his own career, now, he decides to make an appearance.

    He gathers himself, ceases pursuing the First Order TIE’s and retreats to assist the fighters above-world. The newly minted agent of the Twilight Sun engages potential attackers with intentions of bringing the citadel to the ground. He awaits orders from Her Highness, looking wide eyed upon the First Order and Imperiums substantial forces.


    TAG: @ Twilight Sun
     
  11. Halle Dray

    Halle Dray Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jan 6, 2016
    IC: Kwea Acantha

    Six months had changed Kwea. Her usually long hair was now chopped at the collarbone. Her normally vibrant face bore dark circles under the eyes and faint frown lines on her forehead. The young woman was now twenty and had been kept fairly busy with the First Order's quest to rework the Navy and tighten up on redesigns for machinery. Her clothing had stayed mainly the same except for the black, leather, fingerless gloves that now covered her hands.

    Now, as she stood in the hangar of a Star Destroyer, Kwea's eyes brightened at the idea of a new battle. The last time she had been on a mission like this, it had been years into the future on the same planet. It hadn't ended well...

    “We are here, today, to reclaim our home. We were there too briefly before things went awry. Before loyalties were split apart. Now, we come not as refugees trying to rebuild our empire within another, but as masters of our own fate.”

    Yes, the Sith had been here briefly. Kwea remembered a small child named Deathy who had been Haretisch's new apprentice. That child had pummeled her with pastries when trying to use the Force. There had been a glorious banquet where she had been given the holocron, Soliloquy by Lady Bellorum. That had also been the day she had become an Underlord. However, war had come to interrupt those few hours of bliss and one thing led to another. Now, Kwea was an enemy of Haretisch and a dedicated follower of Insipid, or rather, Supreme Leader Snoke.

    Insipid gave them all their assignments. She was to escort Assault, which consisted of Mallace, Saadi, and Cocytus, to the surface.

    First Shadow. She liked the sound of that. Kwea had five fighters under her command and she was rather excited to be flying the new, shiny TIE/FO fighters.

    Grand Admiral Sloane’s voice announced, “We are three minutes to reversion, Supreme Leader," from a comm and Kwea started off for her fighter.

    Time for action.

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth @Darth Kronos, @Mitth_Fisto, @Dagobahsystem, @WookieeRage, @Snokers, @corinthia,
     
  12. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Syren
    Aboard The Arae, arriving above Nirauan

    Syren absently paced in front of the sizeable viewport the bridge provided, her floor-length cloak ruffling about her body in response to her anxious movements. Her thoughts churned like a storm-addled sea, constantly running over everything from her lengthy and distant past right through to her current predicament; being one of the many faces at the forefront of this… war. The Sith civil war.

    Even now, several months after its collapse, she flashed a sneer at the state of the fractured Empire. This was not how she pictured her part would be played, this was not what she had suffered for, searching endlessly, waiting thousands of years to find - the glorious Sith and all their might, fighting amongst themselves instead of dominating all else as one.

    An idea she had been toying with, that this was not the destiny she was meant for, resurfaced with fervor and that nagging, ever-present urge to run from it all continued to pick away at her resolve to remain. However, as she considered it a viable option, it seemed impossible to know where she could go, where she could hope to escape her new reality. And without him? No, not even a question.

    Perhaps they had simply missed their window, if they ever had one to begin with.

    The assassin’s agitated steps came to a sudden halt and she took a deep, steadying breath, turning to face the hypnotic blur of hyperspace that consumed her view. She folded her arms across her chest and allowed the whirling tunnel of blue to dull her internal chaos, momentarily pulling her free and sinking her mind into a light trance-like state. As she gathered herself, she was able to muse over the fact that while this ship, her ship, had been in use for quite some time, she had never set foot aboard. Until now.

    The Arae – a no-frills vessel of war gifted upon her ascension to High Lord, what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had thought the gesture to be absurd then, and still does at present. Syren was the opposite of what the massive ship represented and she had passed off the responsibility of its safety to the soldiers and officers assigned to its service, leaving her able to ignore its existence entirely. Of course, from where she now lingered upon the observation platform that lined the wall of transparisteel before her, she could no longer deny what was hers.

    Hers.

    At her back the bridge crew was busy at their respective positions, preparing for what may await them at their fast-approaching destination. She paid them no mind, only truly concerned for herself… and one other.

    The redhead had sensed him easily enough, his confidence a welcome opposition to her doubts. Easing herself back to the here and now, she peered to her side to watch him standing a ways down the same stage she occupied. Aryan Graul, a man that had once been only infuriating and obnoxious – and still could be – but had since become something far more complex to her; a partner, companion, lover, someone she trusted. A rare combination to find in a single being, let alone one that she simultaneously wanted to scream at and not talk to at all, their mouths otherwise preoccupied. In return, she had no reason to doubt that he trusted her, the chancellor-turned-prime minister having made his feelings for her crystal clear after they had fled the Luxury Elite and assumedly chosen the side of the former Night Herald, together.

    Three little words that rolled off the tongue so easily and yet, carried an incredible amount of weight; a threat even, an attachment.

    While it was painfully obvious to her that she felt the same, Syren had not returned the sentiment and was not sure she ever should. She knew full well what it meant to speak those feelings aloud, how it suddenly made them real and how vulnerable you became as a result. It had nearly killed her the only time she had taken that risk, blinded to the true intentions of someone she had thought loved her as she had loved him. How wrong she had been then, and now? Her eyes narrowed as fragments of her past filled her mind and she scrutinized Aryan, wondering if he could ever betray her, if he was truly capable of that level of deceit. It would have been easy to know he would, to say she was sure of it. But a controlling part of her told her he would never, that his feelings were genuine, and that made this all the more complicated.

    Instinctively Syren reached out for him, searching the Force for their bond and the intimate connection they had once shared. Where there should have been a source of strength and reassurance, there was now… nothing. Just a void inside her, an empty piece of the Force that she instantly recoiled from, a saddened expression coating her face as she turned her attentions from Aryan and moved a few more paces in the opposite direction.

    She knew their former link wouldn’t be there and she knew why, and yet she still found herself trying to find it as if it were just buried deep, waiting to be rediscovered. There would be no such uncovering, ever, as his sacrifice had been a final one and there could be nothing done to reverse it. Recalling the singular moment that it had happened, Aryan collapsing to the shuttle floor and the unusual ripple through the Force that had seized her heart with fear, she had thought his very life had been torn from him. In that instant she couldn’t breathe, thinking him dead, just as quickly realizing he wasn’t.

    It had been a horrifying experience and she shuddered at the memory, willing herself to forget it entirely.

    In tandem with her bodily shiver, the floor beneath her boots gave a telltale tremble, the stars stretching and then snapping back to the white pinpoints that filled the void of space to infinity. They had arrived, the planet of Nirauan hovering before them.

    “Prime Minister, Lady Syren. Incoming transmission from the Lord Imperator,” a female voice questioned from somewhere behind her, Syren thankful for the distraction.

    As if nothing was amiss, business as usual, she turned and strode towards the tech that had spoke, looking to Aryan to take the lead as she went.

    “All yours, Prime Minister,” she teased casually enough, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was genuine, the rapport between them almost effortless at this point, relaxed and easy. And exactly why it was dangerous.


    TAGS: @HanSolo29 @Darth_wanderguard
     
    Last edited: Jun 12, 2018
  13. Dagobahsystem

    Dagobahsystem Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 25, 2015
    IC: Darth Saadi
    Aboard the Resurgent en route to New Moraband

    It was a time of civil war for the Sith. The chaos and treachery aboard the Luxury Elite still fresh in his mind, the changeling known only as Saadi contemplated how it had come to this point. He quickly chastised himself for feeling surprised by these developments, as this was the way of the Sith. It would have been unexpected had things not turned out like this, he reasoned. Still, a part of his mind worried about the state of the Sith Order having been scattered into hostile factions. Former allies, now enemies. A sinister sense of foreboding penetrated the Clawdite's mind as he contemplated the repercussions of this violent schism. The feeling quickly left as he listened carefully to a familiar voice.

    One thing remained certain. He was loyal to his master, Darth Insipid and the First Order. He would do what must be done. Saadi placed his concerns aside and took some comfort in the way the dark side of the Force was permeating every section of this massive Star Destroyer.

    Observing his fellow Sith, those who had remained loyal to the Supreme Leader, Saadi maintained a clear head, determined and focused on the objectives at hand.

    Darth Insipid had instructed him to team with Mallace and Cocytus aboard a new TIE/FO shuttle called the Assault, along with three, four man trooper squads. There was to be a great battle, no doubt. First Shadow Kwea would provide essential support as they headed for New Moraband and whatever fate awaited them all.

    One thing was certain. The First Order must gain the advantage quickly before the Imperium and Twilight Sun were able to establish a permanent foothold on the planet. Saadi hoped this would be the case and felt confident that it would be, as Insipid's instructions to his remaining followers were clear, concise, and well planned.

    Darth Saadi smiled slightly as he finished his preparations and began to head for the Assault. This battle would wait for no one.

    Tags: @Sinrebirth @Darth Kronos @Darth Cocytus @Halle Dray @corinthia @WookieeRage @Mitth_Fisto @Snokers
     
    Last edited: Jun 12, 2018
  14. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades
    The Citadel

    Hades sat in silence as he meditated. Over the last several months Hades had focused solely on Twilight Sun and its military.

    He found an odd satisfaction in his new purpose. Odd because being a military man never was of any interest to Hades.

    As he sat in silence, the alarms went off and his comm started relaying messages of imminent attack.

    He rose and made his way to the command tower.

    Hades opened his secure comm channels.

    "Captain Finis, prepare your men for any ground assaults. Dedicate a group to searching downed fighters for allies and enemies alike."

    Hades then turned his eyes to the skies.

    "All fighters launch. Defend this Citadel. Focus your attacks on fighters only until ordered otherwise."
    TAG: Folks at The Citadel.
     
  15. Quinlan Vos

    Quinlan Vos Jedi Padawan star 1

    Registered:
    Oct 24, 2017
    IC: Darth Francium

    The young Sith stood silently in the corner as he listened to General Vexx’s orders. He had respect for the man, certainly, but he didn’t have much emotional attachment to the robot. Francium hadn’t felt much emotion at all aside from anger ever since losing his mother in a dark alley on Kiffar. Nevertheless, he had learned to control the anger and only give in to it in short bursts. As he was given his task, he thought through every possible scenario quickly and methodically. He would be prepared for the engagement. He wouldn’t fail. After the briefing, he stalked back off to the back of the ship to meditate until the craft had landed and his services were needed.

    Tag: @Kaleesh-Cyborg @Master Vo'Un'Var
     
  16. WookieeRage

    WookieeRage Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Feb 3, 2016
    IC: Astra
    Luxury Elite, Briefing room.

    As she was let into the briefing room she immediately scanned her surroundings. Counting. Always counting. Her mind was clearer since she had gotten off the spice but she was not the same. Her body language was stale, her face, a facade. She would rather be in a bed curled up in a blanket but here she was. In a room that was vulnerable to a well coordinated hit squad. Astra clenched her hand around one of her long barreled slug throwing pistol.

    She loosened it again.

    Inside she was broken, on the exterior; She was unmoved.

    She stood fully erect now. Her thoughts swayed and for some reason thought of Bo...

    Her arms crossed behind her back and she sunk in the Empress' demands. Going through the motions of an organized briefing which she had done countless times before, for much less money. She took the datapad in hand and took in the image of this filthy child Deward.

    She chuckled at the name for some reason..

    Her eyes rolled at the mention of a 'scrappy prisoner.' This girl had better not drag us down..

    The briefing concluded and she returned to her quarters. She disassembled her rifle with record speed. A special acidic bath for the parts would clean the lenses, electrical and various mechanisms of her prized marksman rifle; a custom DL variant. She was preparing for war. She was made for war. She was the embodiment of war... But she also wanted spice.

    @QueenSabe7 @SkywalkerShine @Lady Belligerent
     
    Last edited: Jun 13, 2018
  17. Darth Kronos

    Darth Kronos Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Registered:
    Jan 2, 2016
    IC: Darth Kronos - The Citadel

    Six months had passed since the betrayals that destroyed the Sith Order.

    Six long, agonizing months.

    In that time, so much had changed. Each faction of the once powerful Sith Empire had grown in strength, each acquiring powerful members. Regular denizens of the galaxy lived in fear of the affects the impending Sith civil war would have on them. While the First Order and the Imperium of the Fist squabbled for supplies, the Twilight Sun lingered in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The Unknown Regions devolved into chaos as the Sith civil war raged on, and various newspaper companies were there to document every moment of it.

    Kronos's relationship with Esme had not improved. He never even had the chance to make amends for his mistake. Before he could speak to her, he was informed that she had stayed behind on a Hapan world after attending a Royal family dinner. She never returned, and all of his attempts of contact were met with silence.

    His Fang Troopers - the soldiers he handpicked to be his elite squadron - were no where to be found. They never bothered to contact Kronos, and, with everything that was going on, he couldn't have cared less. The same could have been said regarding his personal Star Destroyer. No contact at all in six months.

    In the three-way civil war, Kronos found himself with the Twilight Sun, lead by Bellorum. It was also something he regretted. It was the decision that caused the rift in his relationship with Esme.

    He was appointed to the rank of commander. A quick promotion for a cause he wanted nothing to do with.

    Presently, he found himself tasked with removing Draconis and Serapis from separate cells, before transferring them to the Atonement. The assault that Bellorum had been tirelessly preparing for had finally arrived.

    He had been in his personal chambers when his comlink went off.

    Hades had primarily occupied himself with strengthening the Twilight Sun's military. It seemed like a passion project for him. So, that meant he would focus on defending the Citadel from the front lines.

    He made his way toward one of the detention centers.

    He decided to get Serapis first. From his previous encounters with him, which felt like forever ago, he seemed fairly reasonable. The same certainly could not be said for Draconis. Kronos would get him last, once he had potential backup.

    Reaching Serapis's cell, he used the Force to unlock the gate. "Come on," Kronos began to explain as he undid the chains. There was an obvious hint of sorrow in his tone of voice. "Bellorum wants you and Draconis on a shuttle out of here."

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent @E. L.Knight @DarthIshyZ (@dragonsith13 - you're next)

    -----

    IC: Mallace - eh

    Mallace was stressed.

    In the previous six months, she had found herself siding with the man who resembled Typhojem, only because the only thing that qualified as a semblance of an ally - Soliloquy - did so. The newly dubbed Supreme Leader Insipid had occupied himself with strengthening their fleet by improving old Imperial designs. The First Order, like the Imperium, was focused on acquiring supplies from various planets. It was to be used to seize a vital planet: Zakuul. New Moraband.

    And she had a part to play. From being mostly invisible to taking part in a vital mission in the different of the First Order. Although designated with two other Sith, she could finally prove herself to a Master. Finally be taken on as an Apprentice. Further her strength and abilities before dethroning her main superior and rise in rank and power. Finally be free from bowing to everyone feigning respect.

    She could not run. She had accepted that a while ago. But rising through the ranks was a way to achieve her goals.

    Their Supreme Leader had prepared a speech, and Mallace made sure to keep her head down. She still couldn't muster the mental strength to look him in the eyes.

    Looking up, once he was finished, she turned around to face her fighter. She knew her job. She was to accompany First Shadow - Kwea - to the surface of the Citadel and help recapture it.

    She entered her fighter and gave a quick glance to her temporary leader, Kwea. Thought to be dead, but revealed to be alive not long after. Maybe Insipid did to Kwea what Typhojem did to her...

    She shuddered at the thought.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth @Halle Dray @Mitth_Fisto @Dagobahsystem (@Darth Cocytus @Snokers @corinthia @WookieeRage)
     
  18. corinthia

    corinthia Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Feb 16, 2016
    IC: Lady Hesper
    Resurgent

    Time passes like sand sifted too quickly through one's fingers when it is spent as Sith. For six months that seemed to pass faster than she might like, Hesper had bade her time away from the looming Sith civil war, aboard her Star Destroyer Sibyl, until she deemed the time right and slipped out of the shadows as easily as she had slipped into them; Bellorum had pulled a distasteful stunt six months prior, Insipid and Haretisch had clashed, and Hesper, feeling suddenly turned against, chose to simply withdraw and wait and see who would win over what little trust she had left.

    Insipid had won it.

    Which is why she was now aboard a new class of Star Destroyer, a prototype called Resurgent-- and this particular one, being the first of its kind, was named for its class. But to stand amongst Sith again was a strange sensation. Gathered in the landing bay of the colossal Resurgent-class Destroyer, Hesper felt at odds with the others around her; there was Anark, whom she recognized mostly by the quavering mania radiating from the man in the force, and there was Kwea, whom Hesper had briefly hoped might slip away with her when all had come crashing down half a year earlier. There was her former apprentice, Cocytus, in the hangar as well, among others she knew. Hesper stood with one arm folded across her stomach and the other resting atop it, fingers placed lightly on her chin, thoughtful and a bit withdrawn. And she looked somewhat worse for the wear, too. Her skin was sallow and her hair had grown longer, and its ends had become split and frayed. Leaving it loose and tangled down her back, Hesper had simply thrown on the first things her hands had touched before she left on the shuttle to the Resurgent: dark fitted trousers, black leather boots, a long and loose black tunic, and deep red lip paint. Her lightsaber she carried in the hand folded tightly against her stomach, though it had a place on her belt beside a blaster she had taken from a crew member aboard Sibyl. She felt flighty, but for no apparent good reason. She had chosen Insipid to stand by-- it was time to be firm in her decision.

    Then, Insipid spoke. "We are here, today, to reclaim our home. We were there too briefly before things went awry. Before loyalties were split apart. Now, we come not as refugees trying to rebuild our empire within another, but as masters of our own fate," he said, then shrugged. “Today we start that anew. We have Intelligence that not all the Sith who Bellorum tricked into allying with her have gone so willingly. Serapis, at very least, as well as perhaps Lord Draconis, were both noted as having been prisoners at various points in the last few months. We have sought to prevent Haretisch discovering this, and we have also wondered whether this is setup information.”

    Hesper tuned out of Insipid's speech until she could feel his intense gaze on her form. “Victory will be deployed to hunt down and kill the main three targets of the Twilight Sun, who holds New Moraband.” Victory was her designation.

    She knew who these targets were: this, she had been briefed on.

    Bellorum, Ike, and Kronos.

    Should any of these targets be present, Hesper's duty was to kill them. And she would do it-- for her Emperor. Bellorum, while she had been an ally once, was an ally no more, and Hesper could never agree with her and her covetous, jewel-grabbing ways. Ike, she might feel a little remorse over... but Insipid seemed to show no signs of woe over his death sentence. Kronos Hesper knew little of, so in a way he would perhaps be the easiest to pick off...

    When a woman's voice chimed over the intercom and Insipid ended his speech with a sinister grin, Hesper knew it was time. She couldn't stop herself from returning the sick smile. She was back.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
     
  19. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Aryan Graul
    Aboard the Arae, over Nirauan

    With his arms crossed firmly across his chest, Aryan Graul stood stoically before the main viewport of the Star Destroyer Arae and stared out at the endless void of hyperspace stretching before them. The scintillating patterns were almost hypnotic in their simplicity, momentarily drawing his attention away from the demands and responsibilities of his new role as the Prime Minister of the Imperium and Hand to the Imperator himself. It was an arduous job, but not one he couldn’t handle. After spending years fending off his fellow sharks within the Galactic Senate, he found that there was little that surprised him at this juncture. The law of the jungle in the political arena had always been kill or be killed, and Aryan was a survivor. He had not climbed the ladder all the way to the top office merely on his good looks and dumb luck; he was no fool.

    A supercilious smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth at that thought, his countenance reflecting peculiarly in the transparisteel window looming in front of him; it almost made him look menacing. But just as quickly as it had appeared, his smile faded. He was not alone. A second figure was standing beside him in the reflective surface, the man’s mouth flapping incessantly as he spouted nonsense.

    Captain Grev Rolsaw.

    Aryan exhaled heavily; he realized now why he had originally sought to lose himself in the refuge of hyperspace. This man was driving him insane!

    Tall and robust with a bald head and sharp eyes, Rolsaw was intimidating on first glance and fit the stereotype of the rigorous fleet captain. He had initially approached Aryan to discuss their reversion to realspace around Nirauan, but the conversation had turned away from fleet tactics and strategy as soon as the Captain had learned about Aryan’s past as a starfighter pilot. Apparently Rolsaw had a penchant for the racing circuit and he was captivated by the time Aryan spent inside of a cockpit.

    He was drilling him now on the upcoming championship series, which began with a race known as The Gauntlet. “...one hell of a showdown with those RZ-1 Interceptors in the mix,” the Captain beamed with a cocky grin. “I thought those Pamarthen pilots had the upper hand before, but now--”

    Aryan tuned him out again and turned marginally to face the only other presence on the command walkway, his hand instinctively reaching up to stroke his beard in what had become an unconscious habit; he had felt her eyes on him earlier, and he could no longer resist. In the adversity they now faced in the dawn of a Sith Civil War, Syren remained a strong constant in his life. The only constant.

    He loved her.

    The truth had hit him square between the eyes while he was wandering lost in the mindscape with Darth Haretisch; the Imperator himself had been the one to reveal the obvious. Aryan had been running from it all along, afraid that he would experience the same kind of affliction that had riddled him with grief and bitterness after his break-up with his fiancée all those years ago. He thought then that he could never love another soul to that degree ever again...

    But Syren had changed all that. She had showed him the benefits of falling in love, what it had felt like to be intimate with another, and he realized that he could no longer deny what was happening. He actually wanted this. And so, in an uncharacteristic move that he had debated for weeks after their fateful flight from the Luxury Elite, he had admitted his feelings for her in the privacy of her quarters.

    The moment had filled him with both joy and exhilaration, but there was also a certain vulnerability that he simply couldn't ignore. He understood that this declaration did not come without its own dangers. While Haretisch seemed accepting of their arrangement, Aryan knew that others would not be so forgiving. The Sith were a notorious bunch, and they would go to great lengths to exploit this kind of attachment, what they perceived as a weakness. This new reality hovered over him like an impenetrable fog, making him forever vigilant. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they came for them; Darth Insipid chief among them. No matter how justified Aryan felt over his actions, he knew his betrayal of the Emperor had cut deep. He had made a powerful enemy and there would be consequences.

    Aryan stood quietly for a moment and allowed that to sink in, his lips pressed firmly together in consternation as he studied Syren from afar.

    If only we would have run…

    It was a fleeting thought, a foolish thought, but one that still continued to haunt him. Even though he was secure in his new role as the Prime Minister, he couldn’t help but contemplate the hundreds of ‘what-if’ scenarios. Was there a better way? A safer way? What stake did he have with the Sith?

    He knew he couldn’t answer that last one in good faith, not after Haretisch had ‘saved’ him from the nightmare that had been his brief existence as a Force user. He owed him his life for that, and as a result, he was obligated to fulfill his duty. But there was still an air of uncertainty surrounding this new way of life, particularly when it related to Syren herself.

    Before Aryan could further analyze the individual nuances that currently filled his mind with concern, Captain Rolsaw finally caught on to the fact that he was conducting a one-sided conversation and stepped into his line of sight, effectively blocking Syren from view.

    “Sir? Your thoughts on the Theron Relays?”

    Dropping his arms back to his sides with a sigh, Aryan felt like throttling the man, but that would hardly be appropriate for someone of his stature. The Prime Minister punching out the Fleet Captain? While it painted a humorous scene in his mind’s eye, he had to maintain some level of dignity. Instead, he only canted his head and met the Captain’s gaze with a penetrating glare.

    Fortunately, there was no time for the situation to escalate further; a quiet reverberation shook the deck plates beneath his feet, signaling that they had dropped from hyperspace and had arrived at their destination. Perfect.

    “Prime Minister, Lady Syren,” a female technician called from the crew pit, “incoming transmission from the Lord Imperator?”

    “Excuse me,” he uttered gruffly, clearly thankful for the distraction as he threw his cape over his shoulder and pushed past the Captain crudely. It was only when Syren came back into view that his expression softened and the perpetual smirk returned.

    “All yours, Prime Minister,” she teased with a smile of her own, her eyes meeting his in an alluring gaze.

    Aryan instantly recognized it as their usual banter. Typically, he would be quick to answer her challenge with a gibe of his own, but under the watchful eye of the crew, he had to play a more subtle game. With an impervious shake of his head, his hand trailed lightly against hers as he passed, that mischievous grin still playing on his lips and at the corners of his eyes. It seemed to suggest that he would return the favor later, preferably in the confines of their private chambers...

    Clearing his throat, he grew serious once more and motioned to the technician. “Go ahead and put him through.”

    TAG: @QueenSabe7 ; @Darth_wanderguard
     
  20. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Leda
    The Luxury Elite

    Leda stirred, gently waking from a deep sleep with a smile. Rolling over onto her back, snug against the plush mattress and tucked under the burgundy sheets her bed was dressed with, she yawned and eagerly rubbed her eyes open as her smile turned into a wide grin.

    The young woman was quite proud of herself lately. And rightfully so, she would think, knowing without a doubt that she fully deserved to stand as high as she was and hold the position she currently did.

    Commander. Of the Twilight Sun. Under Empress Bellorum, Queen of the Twilight.

    Floor lights began to slowly move from practically non-existent to just below full strength in response to the time, and Leda all but leapt from the bed. “Up we get,” she whispered to herself, already anxious to start the day and begin any adventures that may be waiting to be had.

    ~~~

    A short time later she was showered and clothed in a rather boldly stated get-up involving something along the lines of ‘fashion-forward soldier’ meets ‘battle haute couture’ – she did love keeping up with galactic styles. Her white-blonde hair tied back in a loose braid and lightsaber already secured to her waist, the warrior snatched up her final accessory on her way out the door; a short sword with a gorgeous red blade and what appeared to be an ancient design. The curious weapon had previously belonged to a certain redheaded assassin but was so carelessly left behind in her flight from the Luxury Elite months prior, choosing the side of a traitor therefore branding herself one as well. Well, one’s trash is another’s treasure, right? Leda thought so, immediately coveting the weapon for herself after she had discovered it in its former owner’s quarters.

    Besides, she would surely get much more use out of it than she did.

    With a satisfied nod, she quickly strapped the sword across her back and marched off to her destination, predetermined via a message she had received the day before; Bellorum’s war room, a place Leda simply glowed at being privy to.

    Upon her eventual arrival, she paused impatiently at the entrance, granted admittance only a moment later but a moment too long for her taste. Once the doors finally parted, she crossed the threshold with her chin up, a look that would most likely come off a bit arrogant to most. How she appeared to others never bothered her though, the only opinion of herself she considered worth her consideration would be that of the Dark Lord she served.

    Her yellow-green eyes immediately found her as she entered, the Empress’ formidable strength within the Force pulling her focus in an almost hypnotic way. It was her power, yes, but it was also because it was what Leda continuously lusted after. She reveled in the dark rush her cravings created, offering a respectful curtsey and a small smile before taking up post directly across from the half-chiss, noting a pair of datapads sitting upon the surface before her. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Was there to be someone else? Was she not trusted to handle a new mission on her own?

    There was a moment of silence, one in which Leda was about to let her sudden frustration disrupt with a question when a rather unexpected presence did indeed join them.

    The spice girl? she questioned in surprise. The one from the casino… what was her name?

    Her distaste for the new company would be plain as day though she said nothing aloud, giving the girl a once over before returning her gaze forward.

    Astra.

    What did Bellorum want with a drug-addled chick such as this? The obvious answer being that she was to be her partner, working with Leda on whatever assignment was about to be unveiled. Fan-kriffing-tastic, she thought with a slight shake of her head, wondering just how reliable a spice fiend could possibly be.

    The datapads lit up before both women as Astra moved to her side, an image of a filthy-looking child displaying on the screens. A human boy.

    Intrigued, Leda grazed over the accompanying bio and details of his location, a rather horrid sketch of some giant tree-like creature that was supposedly “dangerous” included. She chuckled under her breath, finding the idea of some massive disgruntled plant as a threat rather comical. Perhaps she could light it on fire, burn it to ash and then stomp down the embers on her way to their real target.

    Or maybe… her new sword could chop it down like an axe would be used to make lumber.

    The devious ideas already swimming through her mind, she completely ignored the strange protocol droid that made a random appearance but listened intently as Bellorum slightly dampened her growing excitement by mentioning yet another member of the growing search party. Alana, someone she had never even heard of before. In a holding cell. ‘Claims to be scrappy and resourceful’.

    Suddenly she felt like a glorified babysitter, not only having to keep tabs on an unpredictable addict but also some random child that was currently locked up for an unknown reason.

    No time like the present to figure out what she would be dealing with, she realized with a sigh. At the conclusion of the meeting Leda made a beeline for the designated cellblock, barking the cell number at the guard posted at the main entry. She was then lead down a narrow passage lined with unmarked doors, the young man halting at one a ways down and entering the access code in a small panel just to the right. With a hiss it slid open and she stepped forward, one hand on her hip and a scrutinizing gaze sweeping the interior.

    “Alana, is it?” she asked, her tone even and somewhat authoritative, though there would be a hint of amusement underneath. “Let’s go. Your… resourcefulness is needed.”


    TAGS: @SkywalkerShine @WookieeRage @Lady Belligerent
     
    Last edited: Jun 14, 2018
  21. Kaleesh-Cyborg

    Kaleesh-Cyborg Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jan 4, 2017
    Grievance Vexx
    Preparing to exit the shuttle Counterstrike


    Vexx is still not favorable of the company he keeps, especially since the Force tells him things even when he doesn't want it to. However, what he senses in Francium is intriguing; self control over that signature anger every Sith is trained to feed upon. It's not every day he comes across this quality. It is one thing he had respected in his own master and something he has sought to maintain in himself. He rises to approach the brooding general-in-training, his immense shadow swallowing the form of the Kiffar. Though the younger Sith is of a good size and build, Vexx towers over him by nearly a foot. The cyborg stands at ease, hands clasped behind his back, yellow eyes glowing slightly in the inner gloom of this dark corner of the shuttle.


    "I sense your struggle," he tells him, his voice carrying neither a tone of mockery nor pity, "It is admirable. If a general commanding armies is truly what you seek to do with your future, this struggle will help you prepare for that future. Impulsiveness often leads to self-sabotage and while every Sith out there will tell you anger is fuel for your efforts, it can just as easily lead you to ruin through impulsiveness. Keep that in the back of your mind as we begin this mission."

    He paces away to sift through incoming data, still waiting on the arrival of the intel his commander Haretisch had told him to watch for. His eyes shift to the other aspiring general aboard his shuttle; Odeke. He isn't sensing anything from him yet and it's just as well. He hates it when the Force gets ahead of him and gives him more than he cares to think about. Right now he just wants to think about this ground assault and getting the job done properly. Snatching his custom lightsabers, his DT-57, and two lig swords from the small compartment reserved for his personal weapons, he prepares to land the shuttle.

    "Take charge of your troops and get them assembled to form a perimeter around the guns," he instructs Francium and Odeke, "I will do the same and create the last line of defense. Data on ground conditions has been...less than desirable. Wear boots. High ones if you have them."

    He growls inwardly at the thought of slogging around in mud. Definitely not his cup of tea. The chances of his gracious mood declining are fairly high. These young whelps had better not botch this mission. He lowers the ramp of the shuttle and marches down it, armor-weave cloak billowing behind him as his talons clank ominously against the metal under him. The clanking suddenly becomes something of a sickening sucking noise as he steps off the end of the ramp. He growls in annoyance as he fights the weight of the mud pulling him down.

    "Get to the guns," he commands his troops, "Close rank around them and watch out for penetration of the surrounding troops. The guns must be defended at all costs. If the outer bands of troops fall, we are the last line of defense. We need to decimate the enemy, but more important than that, we need to take ground from them and push them back. They have a high vantage point, so be on the alert, especially for snipers."

    Tag: @Darth_wanderguard @Quinlan Vos @Master Vo'Un'Var
     
  22. SkywalkerShine

    SkywalkerShine Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Aug 16, 2007
    IC: Alana Geyser
    The Luxury Elite

    Loneliness. An unpleasant emotional response to isolation. No one deserved to be alone in a place like this. Especially when you're surrounded by jokers like these. This is how Alana Geyser felt: Alone and cornered like a mouse. Surrounded by a bunch of womp rats waiting to feed...

    Then again, she always felt this way ever since her aunt Marsha died. Picturing that lonely, teenage girl on the streets brought back painful memories. If only she was there to keep her parents from dying by the hands of thugs. If only she had healing powers to heal her aunt's heart condition. Unfortunately, Alana didn't have the power to save any of them. And every day, she blamed herself for their deaths.

    But there was one person in her life that was still alive. An older Wookie by the name of Twen taught her how to survive the lower levels of Corsucant, as well as thievery. When it came to stealing however, Alana would only steal from the rich. Never from those who were poor or struggling. Hey, even a thief can have a sense of honor.

    She was on her way back to Coruscant with a Sith artifact (and was about to make lots of creds with it), but this blasted ship caught her ship in a tractor beam! Talk about a good day gone bad.

    While she sat in the eerie cell of The Luxury Elite, Alana removed her necklace that contained six, medium-sized beads, three small beads, and three dulled sharp teeth. As she held the necklace in her right hand and gazed down at it, Alana quietly closed her eyes...

    Two years ago...

    In the lower levels of Coruscant, a twenty-year-old Alana was standing on the balcony of an dimly lit building. The building was abandoned of course, so paying the bills was nothing to worry about. As she quietly stood by the metallic rail and watched people pass by from below, Twen walked out into the balcony and stood beside her. Watching the view as well, the older Wookie smiled.

    "Quiet night, huh?" Twen asked, keeping his hazel eyes on the scenery.

    The blonde Human scoffed softly. "Isn't it always night down here?" Twen grinned and chuckled heartily. "Touché." Gazing at Alana, he thought about all the good times they had together. Stealing from pompous rich people from under their noses, teaching her how to be stealthy, and just hanging out from a long day of work. He was happy to be a mentor and friend to Alana.

    Standing up straight, Twen began to look for an item in his tan strapped pouch. "Here. I've got a present for you." Alana's brown eyes lit up with excitement as she glanced up at her colleague. "A present? For little ol' me? Aww Twen..." Finally, the Wookie pulled out a beautifully decorated necklace. The young woman smiled softly as he gently placed the jewelry around her neck.

    "I found this necklace from the market. I'd figured it would go nicely with your attire."

    Alana sighed quietly as she placed a soft hand near her upper chest. "Aww Twen. It's beautiful."

    "Hey, anything for you kiddo. See those teeth? Those came from the front teeth of an actual Nexu. The reason why I bought it was because this necklace has a special meaning. The beads represents your good spirit. The sharp teeth, however, represents your strength. So whenever you feel lost or alone, just keep that necklace and remember that you are strong and amazing. And that you're never alone in this galaxy."

    After hearing this, Alana hugged her Wookie pal happily. "Thanks, big guy. I'll always cherish this necklace. And keep in mind what you said." In her heart, Alana had to stay strong for him and herself. The galaxy was a tough place. But she and Twen were tougher.

    Present Day...

    Alana sighed quietly and placed the necklace back around her neck. She did her best to hold back the tears and remain confident. There was only one goal in mind. One thing that she was sure to keep in mind:

    Escape.

    How she was going to pull it off was a different story. She'd have to figure that part out later. Right now, fate reared its ugly head. And that head was the form of a woman that entered Alana's cell.

    “Alana, is it?” she asked, her tone even and somewhat authoritative, though there would be a hint of amusement underneath. “Let’s go. Your… resourcefulness is needed.”

    For now, Alana was going to play along and keep her true fear from showing. The young thief stood up and raised her right eyebrow with a confident grin. "Cool. Lead the way."

    TAG: @QueenSabe7 @WookieeRage @Lady Belligerent
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 15, 2018
  23. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Darth Cocytus: The Resurgent


    Six months had passed since the treachery that tore the Sith apart aboard the Luxury Ship. A predictable occurrence, Cocytus thought, considering such backstabbing was the nature of the Sith. The kaminoan much disliked the way things were, with so many Sith to begin with. At the time of the treachery, plotted with Insipid to destroy the Sith and begin again as a New Rule of Two. Insipid seemingly agreed.

    Yet, here Cocytus was, soon to board a ship an route to New Moraband with two other Sith lords. It would seem the destruction of the weak order would take time and great patience. The Civil War must be won first. What also made the kaminoan feel quite livid, however, was the fact that they were now on the side of the so-called “First Order”. Weren't these the ones who attacked the Sith months ago? At least they fully under command of Insipid, making it least likely to happen again. However, Cocytus in his inner thoughts, had some fears of their treachery. He would make himself ready in such case they turn on their masters.

    All was not ill though for the young Kaminoan. Finally, after much patience, Cocytus was about to become a Sith Underlord and true inquisitor of the Sith Order. He vowed to fulfil his new duties to the letter. The new inquisitor would keep watch over his peers and look out for any treacherous thoughts. The Sith must remain pure and all doubt must be purged.

    Cocytus remained typically silent as he listened to the Emperor’s speech. In his mind, the Kaminoan prepared himself both physically and mentally for the coming battle. Fueling his emotions with hatred for the traitors, anger of their existence and fear of defeat, he called upon the great power of the Dark Side.

    I am one with the Dark Side and the Dark Side is with me.


    @Sinrebirth, @Darth Kronos, @Dagobahsystem



    Sent from my SM-J327V using Tapatalk
     
    Last edited: Jun 15, 2018
  24. Master Vo'Un'Var

    Master Vo'Un'Var Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    Mar 19, 2017
    IC- Darth Odeke

    Odeke stood on one-leg in the corner of the shuttle, humming a tune and observing the surroundings, nothing special, just a few Sith and that was the only thing that worth studying in Odeke's eyes. they were incredibly boring compared to his troupe, but not much exceeds the fascinating nature of his Troupe. the Kaleesh Cyborg had an intimidating look, perhaps he strives for this, but Odeke had never enjoyed a look which shows ones strength, acts were all that mattered to the Harlequin, and tricking your opponent into thinking they have the upper hand, and to then utterly annihilate them, that's why Odeke never tries to show off in costume. A grin spread across Odeke's face during the briefing, the Kaleesh did indeed look strong and deadly in his manner, but the only way he could gain Odeke's respect was to show his strength in battle, and luckily that opportunity would arise soon. Odeke watched as the ramp slowly descended, groaning under the weight, and chuckled quietly as Vexx stepped into the mud. Odeke looked around and pranced out of the shuttle, dancing into the mud and spitting a few orders here and there.
    "I think I'm going to have a bit of fun"
    Odeke cackled.
    TAG- @Darth_wanderguard @Kaleesh-Cyborg @Quinlan Vos
     
  25. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    GM update 1 of 3

    IC: Darth Insipid

    Battle of New Moraband

    They launched as they arrived; all save for Ravenous, in his prison. Space rapidly became busy, shuttles streamed from the opposing fleet even as fighters roared to escort them down. Ground based weapons nimbused space with fire, mostly low orbit, but a ground based ion cannon could crippled even the largest Destroyer so no capital ship was going to support the Citadel assault today. Insipid’s fighters on the offensive were reduced to those which he himself launched; he had left orders for his Sith groups to be deployed to start, and then only the hyperdrive equipped TIEs - roughly six squadrons - to ring the Resurgent; that gave the three corvettes relatively free firing lanes for enemy fighter craft; and also Insipid free lanes for him to fire on enemy capital ships.

    Darth Insipid frowned as his troops mounted and launched and the tactical display populated. There was a prison ship in orbit; a 600m cruiser of the same design which had gone down over New Moraband during the skirmishes with the planetary kingdoms, over half a year ago.

    Also, Insipid noted that Haretisch’s task force was overly large; at closer distances, it would overwhelm his, and so he had to make sure it didn’t. Similarly, the Luxury Elite was in play, which could confuse matters further - Insipid did not have the numbers to win against everyone, but Haretisch did not have the fleet strength to dedicate against one foe without the other crushing his gains elsewhere, even while Bellorum had enough guns to smash a halfhearted approach but as most of her strength was in her ground installations she could be disarmed along one flank and a foe could operate with impunity.

    On top of that, there was a flurry of movement on the comms and Soliloquy had to be tasked to man the helm, guns and sensors while Insipid worked through them all. His intuitions blazed with a hundred elements, and he lost track of his Sith in the flurry. ‘Keep us steady, and bring us down on the opposite side of the Citadel to the army Haretisch is deploying.’ Anti-fighter weapons were lined on that side of the fortress, likely because the heavier artillery had been shifted to face Haretisch, or to the upper ramparts to fire into the orbital battle.

    He keyed his comlink, poised to speak up, and then sensors caught up with what Insipid’s flailing senses understood; the location of Haretisch and his command ship; it was obvious, when he pored over the data that Soliloquy, or, rather, the brilliant AI mind of Darth Sidious had gathered - the black Star Destroyer. The Force agreed and pegged where his foe was.

    Insipid grinned. ‘Beast, deploy.’


    The Beast unleashed

    The empty hangar vented; spilling out its sole contents into the void. The prison box was vacuum sealed, and in point of fact very little of its space was made up with the actual cell, dead centre of the fifty metre long, white, transport, designed to be placed atop of by another to create a prison of multiple such crates. Repulsors on the underside automatically adjusted it so that the vessel, sarcastically dubbed Bloody Dagger by Insipid, pointed straight at the offending Destroyer of Haretisch.

    The latter half of the crate exploded outward, revealing an enlarged and souped up Novaldex engine, scrounged from a downed A-wing. Dagger shot forward, at high speed. Haretisch’s fighter screen was quick; they noticed the projectile hurtling across the engagement and opened fire; shields shrugged off some of the attack, but much splattered off the nose; a block of durasteel that was the latter half of the crate. Shots chewed at the block but did not more but expose the stinger beneath - the spear.

    In a handful of moments the crate not just shot through the squadron aligned against it but shattered it, exploding two fighters with its sheer mass and then sending a third spinning into and off two of its colleagues. And then the Dagger cut through the shields of the Destroyer, and, even though the passing through set alight the hull, deposited it with a crash through the bulkhead of the main hangar and beyond into the next - even if the hangar was exposed to space, Ravenous’ cell would open through the spear, which burst outward, shredding any trooper that was foolish enough to attempt to screen his advance.

    Darth Ravenous was coming.

    Insipid touched the monster with the Force. Kill.

    As if the former Wookiee needed permission.
    —-
    Hespar’s shuttle, but, also every ship in the engagement.

    Darth Insipid’s utterance which deployed Beast was heard across the First Order battle net, but there was another transmission which cut across the open channel - the one unencrypted and for anyone to use to hear.

    It was in full holo.

    Grand Vizier Ike here,’ came his melodious voice. He was evident in his semi clothed attire, cape evident, jaunty smile to his lips. Upon his chest was a pair of strapped lightsaber hilts, but to his waist was a whip, coiled to hang off on holster, with a golden blaster on the other.

    ‘With an urgent communique for the Supreme Leader God Emperor Dark Whore of the Sith.’ A smile which grew wider. Insipid did not respond, and so Ike continued on. ‘Silence, shocking, really. Not one for words, are you, Aden? Not words with any real meaning behind them, anyway. So let’s talk about you, shall we?’

    A pout. ‘Little Aden Kya, given over to slavery as a young teen by daddy, when his mommy had long abandoned them. Threw one hell of a temper tantrum about that, decided the whole galaxy was unfair, and so he’d call himself Darth Unfair, which of course was so silly that his Grandma, a real Sith, by the way, who fought Luke Skywalker blade-to-blade while Aden hid on Korriban hoping Krayt wouldn’t notice the smell, told him to grow up and so little Aden picked the most puffed up and over the top name he could think of, and presented it to the world as something sophisticated and debonair.’

    ‘Insipid,’ Ike said, mockingly.

    ‘Who the hell follows someone as pathetic as that? Oh I know, I was married to the man. So I actually already know the real reason why anyone follows him. Why they look at his constant grandstanding and bitching and collection of increasingly meaningless and whiny titles.’

    Insipid snapped across the channel. ‘Ike!’

    Ike didn’t stop. ‘Because we all feel sorry for him.’

    ‘Ike,’ Insipid’s voice dropped an octave. There was a squeal as Insipid changed channel, leaving the discussion.

    ‘Oh don’t go, honey, I was going to tell them about how they should really be sorry for me because your peepee is tiny.’

    The First Order net spoke. ‘Victory, go.’ Her shuttle received the location of Ike’s transmission - the Citadel, second level down the tower, indeed screened by all manner of enemy gun and a full enemy squadron of X-wings that had replaced the cockpit with a TIE one; Uglies, undoubtedly more mercenaries. First Shadow, advance before her, clear the way.’ That was Kwea and her five pilots.

    Insipid said nothing else.


    Aboard the shuttle of Assault

    The line crackled after Ike’s speech was fully ended. Saadi, Cocytus and Mallace would each have heard it. The assault shuttle was setup on autopilot to emerge from the Resurgent, but the three of them would rapidly need to assign roles, if they had not already - pilot, gunner for blasters, co-pilot, the latter of which would include comms and sensors and shield distribution.

    Insipid’s voice came through, tight, but darkly toner. Firmly in control of emotions which would undoubtedly be demanding the head of his ex-husband Ike. ‘Assault is to divert to the prison ship in orbit. Use your weapons to breach the shields and board; Second Shadow will screen your approach.’

    That was Anark and his five fighter craft, again matched by a full squadron, this time of Preybirds with claw markings on the wings. Four fighters veered off to intercept the shuttle, and another four to intercept Anark’s half squadron. The remainder third of the enemy squadron held position, moving only to screen the side of the cruiser which had lowered shields to accept the anticipated shuttle ferrying Serapis and Draconis.

    Insipid continued. ‘You are to secure the prisoners and the ship if at all possible. If not, cripple it from inside and withdraw with the prisoners. Retrieving Serapis and Draconis is more important than the cruiser and any Sith you encounter in the way you should just drive away.’

    Cocytus’ personal comlink clicked, and a text message joined it. Secret Apprentice, I expect you to break away from the fighting and commandeer a turbolaser cluster. Fire upon the Citadel. Do not, repeat, do not, use it on the force’s of Haretisch.

    So to did the comlink of Saadi. Apprentice, be prepared for Cocytus to break away from the group. Do not pursue. Abandon him if he betrays our mission; his loyalty is suspect.

    Insipid had no specific instructions for Mallace; he did not know him well enough. And so he would not interfere with his role.

    The prison cruiser, roughly based upon Rendilli Dreadnaughts, was a decent threat, but was designed to run on a small crews to maximise prison capacity. It was nonetheless armed to dissuade attack, and Anark and the others would have their work cut out for them.

    Insipid opened a channel to Anark, but left a handful of moments; he knew Anark would need to issue orders before the engagement began in earnest. ‘My former apprentice, I would speak to you about your next objective once Assault is aboard the prison ship.’ He left silent any censure of the failure by Anark to kill Bellorum, however Titus would take that blame if he ever returned to the fold.

    —-
    Aboard the command shuttle

    Abruptly, the AI aboard Soliloquy spoke softly. ‘I’m picking up a stored transmission... it’s from Thrawn; voice only.

    Lord Soliloquy, I have a promise to keep to you, even if I am no longer in-charge of events, if my predictions are true. I allied with the Empire to destroy a threat, but that Terror has proven secretive. Your chaos should lure him out, notwithstanding the grandstanding of your God-Emperor. There is a Temple on Zakuul; it appears when the swamps ebb, which should be around now - it is seasonal, and appears when the tide is low for a handful of days. The swamps conceal ancient secrets, and this appears to be one, and my archaeologist team draws parallels to a design on Yavin 4 - but I was intruded by the fall of the Empire before I could dedicate resources to it. I have left this message within the Hand HoloNet, to be sent to you when the time is right. I hope you are proximate to Zakuul; but I expect by now that you will be.

    Sure enough, sensors picked up the construct, several kilometres behind the landing site that they were heading towards, but the Emperor AI made it so that the data did not reach Insipid. And there would be a moment of surprise for Soliloquy, if he was capable of such a thing anymore; it was the construct that Mnggal-Mnggal had detailed so many months in the past, and years in the future, of some alternate timeline. The God of Rot had not lied, it had purely been forestalled in revealing the knowledge - had the Sith held the planet peaceably for a mere six months earlier...

    ... the shuttle shook with a nearby graze and Insipid, angry already, barked a snarl before refocusing on Anark. ‘I said get us down! Not get us down in a fireball, Holocron!’

    The battle modulated anew.

    —-
    Aboard the YT-2400 Fools Bargain[/i], somewhere[/i]

    He’d been reported dead more than once, but here he was; in the depths anew, alive and focused on the job.

    Known Space had seen increasingly reduced options for him as the Empire fell. Where once Imperial officials encouraged graft for its own sake, the New Republic actively campaigned against it - and so in the months after the Battle of Jakku, the Galactic Concordance and the last stand of the main Imperial warlords, he had taken his leave of the Known and headed into the Unknown.

    And been promptly picked up by an Imperial patrol of Wild Space. A surprise, to be sure, but with his expert wiles he discovered that this was no Galactic Empire, but an Empire of the Hand, secreted in the depths. His incarceration seemed indefinite, even as he doled out what he knew of the galaxy at large to these isolated wannabe Imperials to improve his living conditions.

    As fortune had it, the Hand became wrapped up in something called the War of Three, and he was able to escape Roxuli in the confusion, even recovering his idle ship and co-pilot, B3, an elderly medical droid who had been adapted to lessen his more particular appendages for more useful ones to use the controls.

    The droid recounted how he had been interrogated, but he had managed to download his personality into the ship’s computer and then because the Imperials only performed one slicing exercise at a time, he had jumped his personality back to his body when they turned on the ship, shifting between the two for months now. Smart, he reflected, surprisingly so, but his droid remained tight lipped - or rather, tightly circuited - as to his past. As tempting as it had been to ‘Hunter’ to open that can of cables, B3 had been a capable co-pilot and friend, and now, co-conspirator on this salvage run.

    Slicing the Twilight Sun records had been dicey, but they’d managed to pull up a record of the battle around the Luxury Elite, and picked out a pair of escape pods that had launched from a shuttle which had escaped the Revelator. One had fled into the casino ship, but the other had been caught in the destruction of the Dreadnaught cruiser and sent spinning off into the depths of space - but he and B3 had calculated the trajectory and decided to investigate.

    Perhaps it was something they could repair and sell, someone that had stolen something from the leader of the Imperium, whose flagship it had fled, and so they thought it worth the risk. Little did they know that the pod had been provisioned and included a now-damaged hyperdrive, and a sole occupant.

    Jedi Master Radian.

    And so when they struck pay-dirt and found the pod after six months of sailing into the space between stars, they themselves did not anticipate someone inside - indeed Radian would wake to the pod being tractored, and the pod would enter the cargo bay before the medical droid and the armoured form of a Mandalorian warrior. Hunter was so eager to study his prize that he had suited up, taking advantage of the vac seal to watch the pod dragged slowly in by the salvage claw.

    That golden-black armour is what Radian would see through the viewport, when he came to, when the port ceased being fogged up... before Hunter and B3 could peer in and see all manner of empty ration bars and provision packs, which had ran dry mere days earlier - a meeting was about to occur.


    Deeper in the Resurgent, prison cell

    Not much had changed for T’tkura since they had reached this time. In point of fact, he’d largely traded one prison cell for another, but it was not the walls of transparisteel and energy that bound him, Lord Insipid had exhorted, but the chains of the light. But Insipid was not here and the only change evident to his prison cell was its guard; a crimson skinned Sentinel droid, which seemed to float above the ground even when seemingly silent.

    Insipid has bathed T’tkura in the darkness for months now, be it solitary confinement, or the black energy of the Force. He’d even severed T’tkura’s connection for a whole month, only to give him back only a tether to his hound, who was salivating for more of the ecstasy that the dark side could offer.

    Today, T’tkura was free in the Force, but bound; metal linking his arms and legs respectively, and his hound was with him, but chained to a wall - it had not been fed for a day, and any attempt by T’tkura to share his food had seen the Sentinel trigger the cuffs, electrifying him if he did.

    But now, the animal was howling, for the Force was also electric; a Battle was underway, and the Sith were pouring their malice into it - the perfect time for T’tkura, bound, deprived of all but the most basic food and drink, weaponless and almost naked - to perhaps escape...

    ... or perhaps to join the dark side and pick a side in the War of Three.

    @ConservativeJedi321, @dragonsith13, @Mitth_Fisto, @corinthia, @Darth Kronos, @WookieeRage, @Halle Dray, @Darth Cocytus, @Dagobahsystem, @Snokers


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