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  1. THE SPACE BETWEEN SAND. He watched them, such a curious bunch. Reminded him of the little ones that had come to marvel of red fire and blackened ash on the first day. The jovial acolytes of his class, juvenile to the steep power that the force would offer them, unprepared for the hate that would boil in their veins forever. These few however; their speech seemed mired with tones of hope, pleasantries and perhaps a strange bravery. Such character was contrary to the bastards that were belched from prison reform to serve the Sith, even the camaraderie they showed here was an alien feeling. These were ideals that the Master had not seen for a time in these wretched sands. These were ideals that would most likely lead to brutish death by the hands of hungrier students. There was time yet, to see if these few would one day turn on each other, and find daggers to settle into the spines of the ones they had arrived with. A powerful trinity like the one of old, was unlikely. He allowed the wind fury of the coming storm to fill in the silence, choosing not to answer the introduction of either creature. "..Come with me." His leaning on the staff finally took, and a loud crunch was heard. The fire inside of the staff illuminated beyond a furious pallet of bright-orange, mixing now with a sickly green and black. The sand beneath him, and for a few feet outside of his circumference, began to slowly gyrate in a counterclockwise flush. The area became seismic, trembling with just enough force to unhinge one's standing balance. The shifting sands started to dissipate before their eyes, now showing that the staff was wrenched into a strange sealing mechanism. A solid plate of metal was unearthed while the strong rattling soon reached a climax, then came to a boring halt. Exposed slabs of metal continued to innocuously drain the bleeding sands, unveiling an opening maw that proved to be a hidden entrance after all. Helios held his eyes tightly closed, with a single hand concentrated over the loosening access point. Once the widening diameter was large enough to fit the full berth of a hover-cruiser, Helios moved without further delay, descending the stairwell that extended into the belly of reddened rock. He moved slow, almost deceivingly so, but with enough time for the strange folk to follow his lead. He would not ask them, he would show them. If reluctance was their answer, the darkmetal plates would not wait more than sixty seconds to independently reseal. The downward spiraling steps spanned at least a mile, starting as roughshod metal, which slowly buried itself into the cavernous rock that surrounded them and became a natural outcropping of steps. Metal was outmatched here beneath the rolling sands, only illustrating the strangeness of nature's design down here. Vicious stalagmites, craggy drip-stones and carved images of tremendous taunting gargoyles haunted these parts. In every direction hung brilliant carvings, billows of black smog, and waltzing flames to light the way. The air was easy for now, but the open flames that ran the length of the structured outcropped stairway strangely captured the eye, choking the air in places with a hoarse smoke that seemed to revitalize the body. Walls continued to close in around them, making it impossible to see what was yet below, and where it was they had come from. The walls held history though, etched tapestries of powerful creatures that once shaped these omniscient tunnels. Helio spoke nothing, knowing at least some of them followed nearby with the sound of feet hitting the awkward pavings. The Master of the White Flame worked himself a small distance ahead of the group, only by aid of comfort from how many times he had traveled these access points. With that separation though, he always came to a stop when the marvel of Vardin Valley came into view. The walls opened up closer to the tail-end of their long descent and a sprawling panorama became all that could steal your breath. If one was not careful, the stretching phenomenon below was distracting of how high the distance really was. Plenty had met an easy death from these heights. This was an incredible underworld, carved from stone and old magic. Fantastically large columns sprung up from the pits of Korriban and heaved into the roofing of the hollow under-city. There were people everywhere, spirited crowds reminiscent of communal trade-villages, everyone eager to make pace and address their tasks at hand. Most of them were dressed in moth-eaten robes, hued in a red dustier than the sands above. Others were of larger species, or of blackened robes, some even of the green that Master Helios drew upon himself. The remaining steps would lead them into the wayfaring industrious market, but other lanes of foot-traffic would find you in the residential quarters, temples of worship, the forges, or a bevy of other quadrants. All things lead through the Bastion of Pelko, and Vardin Valley was a sea of opportunity hidden from the prying eyes of those who did not belong. "Roshan, Solus, Aliss. What do you see?" Assuming them to fall in just a few steps to his own, his voice echoed inside of their heads, wholly inquisitive to how they perceived what now laid before them, their answers waiting to be judged.
  2. He listened intently while a trace of disdain played against his peeling features, but his composure was without flaw. The creature was well-winded, speaking in tongue with a confused arrogance that no master of the dark side would bother to endure. But for now, he ate slow-burning torture. He leaned the staff harder into the sands, and the fire captured within it looked as if it began to swell in size as he did so. "Enough!" Perhaps this Cathar did not understand the tones of the Sith language, or perhaps it just enjoyed the sound of it's own voice. He then pulled the hood from his head to reveal a scathed man, burned flesh through and through, ailing thickets of muscle and exposed bulbous vessels that dry-heaved over the features of his face. "I wonder if in this language you will understand my meaning. Your words are empty. You speak many of them, far too many for an old man to care for, and all of which mean nothing to me. You are loyal to a name that has expired and holds no weight. You recklessly trod across lands foreign to you, imploring direction without addressing just who you are, much less the dismal company you you choose to keep. You stand before a keeper of the sands, and you have proven unwise, stranger. This comfort you speak of, the word is unfamiliar to my kind. Pain is the only luxury you will find standing before me, for I am a Master in the arts you seek, one exemplified in studies of the Wicked Flame. With but a whisper, you and those entrusted to follow you, would become no more than ash stirred by the ass-end of this old staff. But with temper, I fear the flame would swallow us all." The pyromancers of the Krath were uncanny catalysts to a primordial savage unlike any other, the boils that surfaced their skins were testament to how they earned their names, and earned their abilities. "I am Darth Helios, and you will yield to me and surrender your identities, or you will feel the heat of Horuset settle into your bones."
  3. Low laughter came suddenly in response, almost a growling as it first started, but then the humor grew as loud as the roaring winds. The creature had to double over with hand on knee, contradictory to the usual rigid appearance of him and his kind. But then he readjusted, straightening himself while leaning more of his weight onto the make-shift staff. He eyed the flame that he had captured earlier, and then returned his gaze towards the rather strange collection of sentient or semi-sentient bodies. They were serious, and it was only now that the creature had realized what they had just asked for. The storm was opening up somewhere near, but the skies were too choked with dust and clouds to pinpoint how far out the chaos really was. Anas buti zo grezmenes faejon va, Hisxis.. That is a dangerous request, Cathar.. He let the thought sink in, the very notion of how dangerous the masters of the dark side could be. Their reputations were of an ill-kind. Capable of stacking the odds against them and coming out on top, each and every time. The power that the masters of the dark side held within them, more often than not, drove them sick with unquenchable blood-lust. There were few left if truth be told, most burning out like a flame to waxen wicks. Those that hungered for the knowledge and the power grew in significant numbers, while those that had achieved both of these things, were a dying breed. The creature used his free hand to pull his hood up, and cover his face a little better than before, the sand hitting his charred face was far from pleasant. J'us zenoti tave lirza, kad sis buti nie dits bauztipe latraha. J'us buti takjona, su yunoks katesi askal tu'iea vadinti.. You know the tongue, but this is no charter school. You are strangers, with little merit behind your names.. The heavy accent of his Sith diction came out rough, nearly as if anger was attributed to his entire speech, but this was just the sound of the pyromancer at large. His watched them all, with a curiosity to match his natural paranoia. This world was one of savages, creatures willing to sacrifice their lives in the name of ascension. What stood before him, was untested, and perhaps a small threat to these sacred sands. .. Armijio. Ar sis buti tu'iea geida, na j'us nayir rajidona tu'saen stai ir dabar. Nuo j'us ir tu'iea idevoka, sekleti buti stuyi. ..Yet. If this is your wish, then you must surrender yourselves here and now. For you and your intentions, shall be tested. Kam zodis j'us? What say you?
  4. OWL The Chidinkalu Horn sang a beautiful melody, serenading the retreating masses of the marvelous tea house. The bone-white musical instrument was made from the hollowed-out reeds of a chidinka, masterfully gripping breath into mesmeric sounds and affliction. The low tones it produced was enough to hypnotize audiences far and wide into a deep gaze, as if they could watch the notes peel from the flute itself, taking shape before them all with the naked eye. The creature dressed in strange decor, covered daringly in the cut-and-trim of a beastmaster’s kit. His helmet bore a half-skull with four long horns that twisted outward, while the rest of him was dressed in a medium-leather that oozed with bestial fur at every crevice. Darkness on the Land was the album he played, by mostly Scarlet symphonies as decreed by the Imperial Board of Culture. Still, the ominous cut of the bone-mask was all one could find in his expression as he laid against the lamp-post. Unassuming, and enchanting as the melodies grew louder and louder, while the sun drifted beneath the clouds. “City of Glass" "Darkness on the Land" "Emotional Hostages" "Jewels" "Lonely Heart Spaceport" "Night is a Curtain" "Slow Dancing Star" (Zutia Lavell)
  5. VEXOK SAVAKA Far from luxury, far from the ordinary. The rolling sands of red began to boil something fierce beneath them. Over the last few months, tremendous sand storms impregnated the lands, storming across the old terrestrial and wreaking a havoc that frightened off-worlders to their core. We had been too inviting, and the spirits knew this. Cultists spent halved decades prophesying a powerful shift in the high dune-shores of Korriban, telling of a time where hedonism and worldly possessions would return to a sweeping dust. The spirits were angered, tourists and wayfarers gathered in record amounts, keen on studying the immortals works of those that drank and died in the dark side of the force. The teachings of more than just the Sith, of practitioners that vested their life blood in the studies of primal sorcery and the most forbidden of arts, were on showcase for the spoil and pillage of the undeserving. The rule of the traitorous white wolf had endorsed such sacrilege, and his love for the enemy had blinded him to the deflowering of his culture. Korriban was a Gate to inexplicable power, and the doors were slowly closing under the watch of the Spider. A small wind crept up on the derelict port, a little stronger than the usual, worsening levels of visibility. The humans that worked these parts looked drained of the color in their skin, and machine-like in the way they systemically secured the newest docked vessel. A Cathar, a strange Droid, and a Tuk'ata disembarked and continued on their path, perhaps searching for a thing that no longer existed here. Comfort, was long gone in these parts, and as the Sith Empire drew itself across the galactic front, these red sands darkened under their seven moons. All the same, the winds continued to strengthen, and the trek to the nearest temple was a mile up-shore. As the three pressed onward, they came upon a creature overlaid in a dull-green cloak, holding a protected flame fixed to a long black-metal staff. He held the make-shift lantern high, unconcerned with how much of the burnt flesh on his face peaked through his sagging hood. He worked his jaw, easing the stiffness that shot up to his peeling cheekbones. "J'us buti vi griezta fopa ant bnila, j'us dary nenx ana dyibio j'us naile mirtis. Buti sis atuzirsaga, ax tarabaga?" You are as heavy hooves on glass, you do not walk as if you fear death. Is this arrogance, or madness? The voice yawned out across the distance as they approached, addressing the three of them indiscriminately. His concern was not for their lives, but for the terror that their lack of precaution would stir. The lands were not what they once were, and their footsteps hammered the sands, signaling the things buried low and far. The creature stood before them now, awaiting their response.
  6. "..Neimodian." The word strangled from a rasping voice, throaty and outlandishly darker than the milieu of the tower. Attention drew to the figure in black, bandaged completely in a robe of shadow, hauntingly poised a few feet behind the one drawn as Nok Morliss. This creature had been tasked to him since the Kuati invasion, digesting behaviors and patterns in the force unfamiliar to those that could not read them. There were no features to scrutinize, nothing to escape the overlapping shadows that clamored about the creature unnaturally. Whatever this thing was, manifested cold insidious energy as if a mirror to the likeness of this place, snarling primordially before the promise of an apprentice. "You mustn't wake what stirsss abovee," the voice slithered across skin, hollow enough to raise hairs. "Not.. just.. yet." The shadow inched closer, as if it floated on the thinnest of air. "You come bearing nothing but flesssh and bone, and that iss what it will rip from you. An offering, young Morlisss, do not sstir the Lord of this place without one." Timely, the sound of scratching and low rumblings, echoed across the barren darkness. "You will find an offering in the waterss of Mon Calamari. Find thisss, and either Spider will be pleaaasssed." The shadow vanished.
  7. The machines of the Sith were ceaseless, the differences in respective banners were vast, but each one hailed the command of the Spider. The crest was almighty, unyielding in presence as it was imprinted on each and every vessel of war that flooded the Coruscanti sector. All hail the Sith Empire. The Goliath, the Reaver, and the Chirikyât entered the engaged territory synchronously, coordinating through past experience and familiarity. Their coordination was zealous in practice, and executed well during real-time. Many commanders shared news of the small victories that continued to pour through the streams of deployed spy-bots, many more means of intelligence swarming into every section that their ordinances would allow. When Master Qaela had defeated the treasonous Raven, the entire Imperial nation rejoiced with a spirit that shook the known galaxy. Fearlessness settled into the hearts of their citizens, and a savoring of revenge was a taste that the loyalists would never forget. She had mowed a history that was stained with a breach of faith, but as her weapon beat down the pride of the pretender, Lady Qaela had lifted her promise before the hungriest of the Empire, and they were proud of what she had demonstrated. Her followers would broaden, and those that entreated the Masters of the Dark Side, would now include her name amidst the appointed. Her name would be spoken with esteem. Task Forces GOLIATH 30 / 30 FLAGSHIP (Augmentations: Axial Weapon) Experience: Green, 1XP Commander: Captain Rosa Orsaa , Commanding Officer GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS Status: Active (12/ 05/ 2019) Homeport: Arachnakorr Description: The Xhendora-Class Dreadnought is one of the largest vessels in the Sith-Imperial Armada. So far only two vessels of the class, The Goliath, and another under construction. These two advanced warships are designated as Fleet command ships, and form the core of a line of battleships and dreadnoughts intended to counter any direct assault in Sith-Imperial Space by a large scale fleet formation. Dense, cutting edge armor, heavy shielding, reinforced hulls, and numerous other internal and external modification make the hull one of the most rugged ever constructed to serve under the Imperial Machine. The heavy-set firepower, and thick armor make the Goliath one of the most formidable forces in known hyperspace. Direct and deliberate frontal assaults easily overpower lesser opponents. Under the Goliath's relentless assault most targets break and run, or surrender if retreat is impossible. REAVER COVERT STRIKE FORCE Vornskr Stealth Crusier Experience: Green, 1XP Composition: Captain Alvaro Correra , Commanding Officer Lieutenant Commander Corey Seidling. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS Status: Active (12/ 05/ 2019) Homeport: Umbara Description These Stealth Cruisers are heavily armed and independent operations vessels. They are intended to patrol the conflict prone fringes of Sith-Imperial occupied space. They are heavily armed with multiple heavy bay weapons. They often engage groups of raiders, and scouts attempting to penetrate their patrol routes to reach prioritized settlements, or respond to attacks on shipping and isolated facilities. Usually operating alongside other task forces for added protection against fighters the Vornskr Stealth Ship is often deployed for several months at a time before it is relieved by another vessel. During these patrols the ship will transit to multiple systems and set up ambushes along trouble prone routes or near key systems in it's area of operation. The captain has wide discretion in their routes, tactics, and when to engage ships belonging to hostile factions. While multiple patrols may pass between actions, these stealth cruiser squadrons are among the most daring vessels in the Sith-Imperial Fleet. Due to the long duration of typical patrols the Reaver is equipped with workshops, hangers, and training areas for the crew.. This does limit the amount of ordnance, and armor the ship can carry however, the heavy firepower of the vessel is sufficient to eliminate all but the largest raiders and scouting vessels that it might encounter. Chirikyât X. HH: 10 / 10. DAMAGE: 3 / 5 Y. HH: 10 / 10. DAMAGE: 3 / 5 TYPE: Krath War Menagerie (Cruiser supported by two colossal Sithspawn, considered to be roughly cruiser sized themselves): Monsters in the Darkness (Sithspawn are considered to have the equivalent of ten hull health, and deal three damage to shields or five hull damage if the hull is exposed) Experience: Green, 1XP / A conspiracy of Sith sorcerers guide their unnatural creations to acts of destruction and butchery in the void. Each Sithspawn can attack a separate target. Composition: Srak Vordoonn, Beastmaster (Nikto) GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS Status: Active (12/ 05/ 2019) Homeport: Dxun-Onderon Rift Description: A late entry into the Imperial Navy, fielded mere weeks prior to the climactic Battle of Onderon, the Druid-Class Cruiser is an exceptional project concocted by the fearless Krath, boasting additional armor, hull reinforcement to protect previously-exposed elements of the unique cruiser structure. Additionally, it possesses three umbilical ports in its center structure to permit seamless maneuverability during extended combat operations with the Sith warbeasts that steer these vessels.
  8. [ Imperial Replenishment Fleet RX-311 ] Field Secured Container Vessels Bulk Freighters Maintenance Carriers Container Ships IM-455 Modular Garrisons (All variations) Supertanker Fuel Depots IGV-55 Surveillance Vessels Imperial Cargo Ships Imperial Dropship Transports 109-Z Armored Cargo Hovers Imperial Troop Transports Heavy Recovery Vehicles Ton-Falk-Class Escort Carriers Imperial Extermination Ship (Furnace) HAVw A6 Juggernauts TIE Reconnaissance Teams Y-85 Titan Dropship Coruscanti space now flooded with Imperial vessels. The deliberate sanctioning was an aggressive push for control before the chaos of the galactic throne reached a point of no return; the trillions without hope, abandoned by the galactic alliance, now found their saftey within the iron grip of the true Emperor. The dockyards of the Sith Empire, pivoted inside their own coveted territories, churning out an impressive patchwork of starships that served their visionary purposes. It was endless, and it was unstoppable. Now it was here. Container vessels spread themselves to the highest areas of concern, accompanied by tankers and militia in order to properly endorse the liveforms present. IM-8005 shield projector garrisons were constructed to shelter perimeters that suffered the brutal starfall from above, IM-S-653 Orbital Garrisons were erected above to assist in this. IM-X-981 Hostile Environment Garrisons were the most popular of these, with how devastated the major terrains were. And of course, Garrison complexes were chained to one another in the heaviest chokepoints, garnering an enormous support of operatives and militia to influence the hazards. Heavy Vehicles and Starships, more than just AT-ATs and TIE monstrosities, drenched the crippled planet abroad, quelling whatever now rose to challenge them. Civilian Population were shielded and sheltered inside the Garrisons, recovered in mass by hover-trains that continued to increase their spread of influence by the hour. Empire armor covered Coruscant whole, strenuously aiding and abetting those incapable or too weak to provide for themselves. Imperial Might poured on incessantly, crushing the remnants of those Crusaders, dismantling the wheels of chaos and disorder by those who have mastered both chaos and disorder. An Imperial Extermination Ship hung coolly in a high atmosphere, dictioned as The Furnace, responsible for detaining the insurrection of brigands and Crusaders that would swiftly find Imperial Justice. Sith influence remained intimate to the hardest of regions, breaking the friction with their command of the high-heralded dark side. The full brunt of the Imperial Militia functioned in full regalia; Sith Troopers, Commandos of the old Empire, Masters of the Dark Side and a deployment of much more were now visible. Rapidly, and efficiently, a world of automaton engineered a fluid and systematic regime present all over the Galactic Throne.
  9. Durstan sighed heavily, realizing their luck couldn’t have been worse. He walked slowly to where Private Shiro had pointed and took a peek down the hall himself. His visor revealed only so much, the power supplies in this vessel quite clearly failing. He shook his head hopelessly, knowing now that danger was everywhere. He tapped his metallic cuisse and reached into a hidden compartment to pull retrieve the datapad he just received from Captain Iven, “Well Private Shiro, you’ve got lead now.” He entered a sequenced password and confidential information booted to life. Captain Iven: “.. Make no mistake, soldiers. The Hexa is a derelict warship helmed by the infamous Galactic Alliance. All record of its existence has been wiped from most databases, but we’ve stubbornly tracked it failingly for decades. Most of us drew this ship up as a rumor of war, nothing more than another fairytale to inspire our rebellion. The Hexa is nothing more than a glorified prison barge, operationally off-the-books, disconnected from the holier-than-thou governing body. An alliance I spit on. Once those bastards fell, once the Galactic Union rotted from the inside-out, this vessel was abandoned. They condemned their own as a sacrifice, authorizing the unsanctioned slaughter of countless prisoners without trial, in the dead of space. I don’t know what happened here, most of the cells are emptied, others have taken their own lives, and those that remained have been mutilated beyond recognition. Madness has taken hold of any we’ve come across. The Hexa is dead in the water, the power sources have been drained or stolen to a necessity. The commander of this ship returned against their strict order, but they did not expect to jump into the collision of Hesperidium and Coruscant proper. No one anticipated where this thing came from, but neither the Cabal or the Crusaders had the patience to understand what had landed between them. Their anonymity went unchecked, but Imperial Intelligence demands that we discover what was hidden here. The commander? She--She (inaudible words, static) neurotic (inaudible words, static) no maintenance, no direction, and unable to preserve the livestock aboard the Hexa. We attempted to access the terminals, but she hangs and cycles on any attempt. There is a darkness on the bridge, an artifact, or maybe a few. The Cabal are not themselves, there is something controlling them. They do not adhere to their usual scouting report, they are inconsistent. They are unpredictable. They are feral. Not to mention the (inaudible words, static). Orders are to retrieve the Seal! Then evacuate before this place blows to smithereens. I fear I will not see you all on the other side, stand strong and long live the Empire!" The Immortal Seal of the Empire is used to mark correspondence from the Emperor to the Galactic Senate, and is also used as a symbol of the sovereignty itself. The central design, based on the iterations of pre-existing Empires, is the official coat of arms of the Emperor and also appears consistently on emblematic designs throughout their worlds. The seal of the Emperor was developed over a long period of time before being defined in law, and its early history remains obscure. A political signage for the ruler of the galaxy. The Galactic Alliance had this secreted away on the Hexa, as this is an iconic and empowering tool politically for the old Imperial regime. “Private Shiro, this information is incriminating, even though the GA is no more, we are in dangerous waters.” Private Durstan walked over to the nearest terminal, handing over the datapad to his new leader before leaning into the terminal behind him. He went through familiar processes and then the transmissions systems cracked awake. The entire ship could hear this now; GREETINGS. GREETINGS.. I AM YOUR HOST, CONSTRUCT 0854329-ERR. (SOUND CUTS OUT. STATIC) ERR- I AM YOUR HOST, PRISM. PLEASE EVACUATE THE HEXA AT YOUR NEAREST CONVENIENCE. THIS FACILITY IS HOME TO CRIMINALS FROM ACROSS OUR GALACTIC SPACE. THE SECURITY SYSTEMS HERE ARE STATE OF THE ART BECAUSE YOUR SAFETY IS OUR HIGHEST PRIORITY. LONG MAY THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE PROSPER! THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE HAS FALLEN. ALL SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN COMPROMISED. PLEASE EVACUATE. PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY. GREETINGS. I AM PRISM.
  10. SHIRO THE BRAVE The mess hall was a disaster, there had been a struggle here, and one that lasted for quite awhile. When was in question, but the men here were too fearful and desperate for salvation to deliberate the details. This new unit did not come with hope either, but rather a brash truth that was hard to swallow. It was hard for these Sith Troopers to not wince behind their helmets, braver men than them had perished before this moment, but now they were asked to do a thing they wanted no part of. Even if the three of them knew each other for the briefest of moments, the direness of their situations bonded them as one. The injured trooper fell in and out of consciousness, unsure if this is where it would all end for him. Blood pussed from the severe crack in his shin-bone, and any attempts in stopping the bleeding at this point was a challenge itself. His mate tried her best, she was no medic, and she had to be softer with her naked hand as she padded the wound. She trembled with fear, holding the life of another within the grace of her palm, unable to make a real difference. Private Saldana could only close her eyes as she heard Private Drustan unsheathe his pistol. He took two steps forward, kneeled in order to hinge the blaster under the jaw of his disabled crew-mate, and then yanked the trigger. The sound was cold, a simple merciful execution, but a chill could be felt between the two as the spirit of their Captain extinguished like a dying flame. The body of their leader fell slack, completely empty of life, but the blood still ran down the arms of a terrified Saldana. Her first kill was a thing of adrenaline, but to have someone die in her arms, she held back the urge to puke. Private Drustan on the other hand, holstered his pistol and scanned the cluttered hall, swearing he had heard a shift of movement before he shot his Captain dead. He ignored it, and made way for the unit that had just arrived. He saluted, manipulating his ego to stifle the urge to shoot Shiro square in his face. “Private Durstan, sir. Sorry, who are-” The HUD of his metallic helmet pinged as friendly, but the readout of just who this man was, continued to come up as a registry line corrupted. He smacked his helmet once, and then a second time, but perhaps it was defected. Saldana still sobbed as the weight of Captain Iven slowly pulled from her grasp and eased onto the frigid embrace of the steel floors. Durstan had an odd feeling of suspicion creep up the back of his spine, realizing that he did not know these people, and communications were still dead-in-the-water. And, with the intelligence that Captain Iven had entrusted to him, this could turn ugly fast.
  11. The corridor began to fill fast as formations scattered throughout the Sith Dreadnought to present themselves to their commanders. The shifting of armor, the shuffling of feet, and the ringing of alarms were loud enough to feed the rawest of adrenaline rushes. If the mind was not sharp, the sound of the body would become a distraction. Instructions were blared from each end of the hall, from the echoes of neighboring ones, with leadership commands droning out directives. One peak outside of a view-port would reveal pandemonium. Star-fighters were engaged, blasting into an enemy they were uncertain of. Perhaps the remnants of the Crusaders were really here, perhaps raiders had invited themselves to the chaos of Coruscant, and perhaps it was both. There was so much wreckage, that it was difficult to see what was truly out there from a glance. One could only image what the heart of Coruscant really looked like now. Time would soon reveal more. The major laugh maniacally nonetheless, the white of his skin unmatched by the white of his teeth, taunting the feverish soldiers before him. "Reports are that the enemy has a Heavy Cruiser roaming the debris field, a Dauntless. Our objective is to capture it. Boarding operations have began, and you all are late! Launch bay B47 awaits your arrival. Go now, and long live the Empire!" The Major saluted the many in attendance, the expression in his face a most determined one, wondering just how many of them would by alive to see another day.
  12. The weapon was a classic choice, common amidst the basic infantries applied across the armed forces of the Sith-Imperial. A peculiar man with skin as white as snow, and a head of hair that seemed to inorganically blend with his own flesh, stepped into the hall with wild curiosity sunken into his features. An aristocratic collar covered his neck and further up onto his jawline, the piece of attire was so vividly rich with the color of crimson, contrasting his pale and powdered face. He too held an E-11 standard issue blaster rifle, although his was slung across his shoulder. He surveyed the soldiers that wandered these halls, eyeing a particularly nervous individual. "...Standard issue for our Infantry, the E-11 can alternate between semiautomatic, fully automatic and pulse-fire settings, and is designed to use a variety of ammunition," The officer spoke loudly, clearly commanding the attention of the fresh batch of soldiers within his section. He worked his hands through the weapon, indicating what he spoke of. "An enhanced scope compensates for the most obscure of conditions, while this supplementary scope displays information specific to the weapon's current operating mode." Again, his hand motioned and tapped the two scopes. "You have a maximum range of three hundred meters and can nail anything with ease within a range of a hundred meters. This is crucial for your close-quarters firefights, especially the narrow confines of enemy installations and star-ship corridors you may find yourselves entrenched in." "You understand, Private?" The versatility of the blaster would be wasted if the creature that wielded it was not prepared for their lives to be weighed against another's on the field of battle. The field officer searched the rookie with a curious look, deliberating the nature of his arrival and assignment within his mind. The potential for him to be nothing more than a spy, was something to watch for. The influx of soldiers had been accelerated poorly with their transitioning from Kuat to Coruscant, fundamental operations keenly riddled with negligence. When the time came for pause, the prospects would suffer the malignant pressures of the Inquisition. "Have you ever seen Coruscant like this? Are you ready for what comes next?"
  13. The eldritch composition of the Sith fleet brooded across the lower orbit of Onderon. Black color-crafts trimmed with the red of battle blood washed each of the vessels that prowled the dark skies. The Black Scarab mounted the planet as crown jewel while the rest of the flotilla moved into a synonymous formation. The Sith Star Dreadnought steered the likes of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, the Bleeding Kyber. Warspite, Sunder, Hyperion and Blackblade cut their vessels into the black of space as an escort to their command ship. The collective armies and the bodies that conducted them were now aboard and moments away from their jump to the rendezvous coordinates. Those that abandoned the call of their King, would be ostracized from their ruling campaign indiscriminately. (Sith Fleet leaves for Space.)
  14. “Mr. Morliss, your timing is a curious one. The ruins and corpses that your vessel swims through, came seeking the Sith all the same. Be careful what you ask for. Proceed to harbor A3789, you will be processed for inspection. Thorough coordinates are being uploaded to your navigation system, it is strongly advised that you do not deviate.” The uplink muzzled out and the directions through the minefield transferred to the Bleeding Edge. Other off-world transports would tail behind this ship, just as ships that had come before were accelerating towards a similar pathway. Traffic towards Iziz City would be choked until the minefield was bridled by the same operations team that had laid them. Once the Bleeding Edge had touched down, a dedicated sweep of the ship, and an interrogation of those on-board would be customary.
  15. "Lady Darksong," The world-weary voice peeled from the shadows casted by the metal walls surrounding the entrance to the command center, and now the full figure of a man approached her slowly. A smooth and synthetic black armor covered the messenger entirely, no trace of who or what he was. He was no a muscular creature, for traveling the shadows as he did, beckoned him to be the lightest he could be on his feet. The helmet that sheltered the world from his features shared similarities to that of the common Sith Trooper, but this held no color and carried the etchings of a spider-web scratched into the full-visor. "..It is an honor." The Shadow bowed deeply and knelt onto bended knee, expressing his admiration for the power that this woman held. "There has been a development on the world of Korriban, Vardin Valley has been restored to health." As he spoke, he turned his palm over and then opened it to reveal a chained medallion. This one differed vastly from the ones that the newcomers of the Valley were now in a rave about. This medallion was crafted diligently, compounded with the finest of metals the Krath had access too. Buried inside the centerpiece of the medallion, an exquisite black jewel laid asleep. The messenger extended his lanky arm, and offered the important piece of jewelry to Master Darksong. "He has chosen you to rule over the Bastion of Pelko." The Shadow, through his otherworldly tone of voice, waited patiently with the gift in arm.
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