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  1. THE RED CAMPAIGN Succession: Darth Heretic, Bishop of Battle, Darth Abaddon, Barohm Zar, Ar-Pharazon, J. Geki, Kakuto Ryu, Lord Dagon, Darth MacLeod, Hephaestus, Lord Exodus, Darth Furion, Darth Sheog, Darth Quietus, King Exodus GOLDEN RULE OF THE FIFTEENTH X V R E A W A K E N I N G S H A D O W / [Zero Epoch] Destruction of Carida Base HUNGER [ZE 200] The Spider returns to the fray, born from the hollows of Umbara, seeking vengeance for his kin against the traitorous Empire. Conflict unravels at the academy, and the unleashing of a devastating Sith Wyrm, rattling from hibernation wreaks havoc. Conscription of Imperial AI Kain Hail, Kain. [ZE 205] Rumor spreads of a reemerging Dark Lord, one from the Golden Era. This draws interest from those still patriotic to the old Empire, despising the Galactic Alliance set forth by Raven and the Jedi. Imperial AI Kain joins with the Spider; and with their alliance, an inflamed migration of power comes together as one. Roots in Nar Shaddaa ROOTS & WEBS [ZE 210] In the shadows, the alliance of imperial artificial intelligence and the dark power of the allfather assassin, enroot their influences. Military recruitment of loyalists and new blood, strong-arming pirates and raiders, illegal requisitions of necessary resources, favors beholden to the pair, arresting of shipyard blueprints and fleet conceptions. Black-mailing, assassinations, and a rising power curve to rival any galactic force. An irrepressible hoarding of control and might under dangerous discretion Control of Korriban RED PLANET [ZE 220] The Spider storms the ceremonial halls of Dark Kings, arranging a summons for all Sith to return home. They do, and in eye-opening numbers. The skies of the old Red planet seethe with the forces that the subtle alliance had forged, blotting out the skies with metal and black fire. Apprentices, Lords and Ladies, even Sith legendary by way of their exploits and name, all answering the call. Declaration as King / Reunification of the Sith ROYAL BLOOD [ZE 225] It was none other than Lord Exodus, unique to his name and all of the histories written in power. He declared himself the Dark King of the Sith before them all, leaving the air empty for a challenge to his rule. None did. Each of them had drawn on a respect for the last vestige of the infamous Sith Triumvirate, an esteem that the young Anzati warlord had carved for himself. Dark Lord Quietus before him was supplanted with this decree, bowing in compliance as the rest did. The Sith had reunited at last, structuring themselves immediately in a way that they had not seen for a decade. And it was here, that the galactic criminal Faust revealed himself, bowing before a new King before the two could sow seeds of conquest. Faust would not align himself to just anybody, but with the Spider, he found purpose. Arrival at Iziz, Hunt and Destroy Faust, Defense of Iziz THREE FACES [ZE 235] The Galactic Alliance had taken the bait. Lord Faust terrorized the familiar grounds of Iziz Palace, earning the attention of the supreme power of the galaxy. They gathered to him in droves, cornering the criminal Sith, but not before he could signal a new ally. Dark King Exodus arrived brandishing the first Super Star Destroyer seen in decades, halting the entire advance of the Galactic Alliance fleet while publicly disposing of the criminal Faust, defending Iziz City from terror. The Jedi and Co. failed to do so, and were dismissed from the planet. Force the Jedi Fleet to flee and Take Onderon SCARAB [ZE 235] The Jedi Fleet under Vos decided against their presence on Onderon, and absolved ties while fleeing before the armies of the Sith could lay waste to them. This was their warning. Stagnancy and inaction was a rot that he would burn away. The Sith claimed political governance through their monarchy, rebuilt the overall strength of Onderon, and unveiled themselves as a new Sith Empire. UNFINISHED NEED TO FINISH THE REST, AND UPDATE FUTURE CHAPTERS IN THE CAMPAIGN Defense of Onderon Despoil Kashyyyk [SHEOG] Takes Kuat Salvage the Black Sun Take Coruscant [Ca’Aran moves for Salliche] [Master Qaela moves for ???] __________________________________________________________________________________________ CONQUEST MARKER Dantooine [Farmlands, Major Export: Food] Yehveshi Minor (Border) Bogden [Outpost] Anaxes (Border) [Fortress World, Major Export: High Technology] Chandrila (Border) [Lush, Political / Major Export: Food] Coruscant (Border) [Galactic Throne, High Population / Major Export [Food & Medicine] Kuat (Border) [Orbital Ship Array / Access to high-level production] Onderon (Border) [Military, Culture, Jewel, Sithspawn] Umbara (Border) [Greater Dark Nexus, Military, R&D / Major Exports: High Tech, Exotic Goods, Creatures] Arachnakorr (Border) [Artificial Planet; Mass Production] The Maw (Border) [R&D, Unknown] Kessel (Border) [Spices] Ruins of Ziost (Border) Rafa V [Outpost] Raxus Prime [Industrial World / Recycled Metals, Textiles, Chemicals, Starships, Starship Components, Industrial Machinery] Mon Calamari [Seafood, High Tech, Starships, Weapons] Felucia [Slaves, Biotoxins, Exotic botanicals, Medicine], Nysillin spice] Nespis VIII [Research] Ossus [Outpost] Rhen Var [Outpost] Oovo IV [Prison] Kashyyyk [Electric Components, Natural Resources] Gromas [Mining, Phrik] Gala [Outpost] Vjun [Greater Dark Side Nexus] Korriban [Holy Sith Planet] Krayiss II [Obelisk, Dark Energies, Outpost] Artus Prime [Mining Outpost] Yavin [Corusca Gems] Serenno [Great Houses, Outpost] Thalassia [Outpost] Altyr V [Outpost] Dathomir [Labor] Taris [Luxury items, Tarisian ale, Technology] Mandalore [Outpost Only / Starships, Mercenaries, Beskar Iron, Technology] Concord Dawn [Outpost / Agri-World] Wayland [Sithspawn Breeding Ground] Myrkr [Outpost / Ysalamiri] Carida [Military] Hapes [Food, High technology, Luxury Goods] _______ Outlier _______ Dagobah [Dark Side Planet / Outpost] Bespin [Tibanna] Roon [Flame Jewels, Spice, Roonstones] Fondor [Tech / Shipyards] ___ Outside of Border Prospects Talus [Agri-World] Manaan [Kolto, Food] Nar Shaddaa [---] Corellia
  2. ROUND ONE MOD RULING Destroyer Group Mu comes under heavy fire from Hammer, Sickle, and Banner collectively with their focus fire. Turbolasers eat into the shields of the Imp II Star Destroyer Capital Executioner. Hammer hits with 8 damage (Four from each cruiser), Sickle and banner hit with less damage due to penalties suffered for multiple task forces focusing a singular task force. (-2 Cumulative). Total damage to shields is 8 + 6 + 4. Imp II Star Destroyer Capital Executioner (-18 Shields) 20/2 Precision Strike Carrier Groups One and Two, assisted by the Vengeance Hellriders, attack Destroyer Group Delta. Group Delta is comprised of two Cruisers, so the bomber inbound damage from Group One will be a value of 2 directly to the hull of task force Destroyer Group Delta. The attacks of Group Two hit, but have reduced damage values because of penalties suffered for multiple task forces focusing on a singular task force. (-2 Cumulative). The Vengeance Hellriders make their move, and the Destroyer Group Delta can either choose to focus on the Hellriders, costing them three corvettes but doubling the base value of Bombers Inbound on the enemy task force, or they can ignore the corvettes and take three hull damage as the corvettes exploit vulnerabilities on the ship’s flanks and aft sections. Total damage to the HULL is 2 + (2 or 3). (-4 or -5 to Hull) @Naitan DraskaPlease distribute this damage to one of the following, and list which damage option you will have inflicted on your Destroyer Group Delta. Rebel Alliance Battleline Escort Pike moves to cover Precision Strike Carrier Group One & Rebel Alliance Defensive Escort Guard moves to cover Precision Strike Carrier Group Two Rebel Alliance Taskforce Fleet Command Home unleashes their axial laser against the Precision Strike Carrier Group Omega, smashing into their shielding and opening up room for their bombers (star-fighter action) to deliver a dangerous volley. Omega suffers 6 damage to their shields from the Axial Laser, Omega also suffers 1 damage from the Star-fighter Action (Bombers Inbound) because of the presence of Frigates in the task force, and this damage will not harm the hull, but instead harm the shielding because of the presence of Corvettes in the task force. Total damage to the SHIELDING is 6 + 1. (-7 Shielding) @Naitan Draska Please distribute this damage to the Precision Strike Carrier Group Omega Battleline Escort Tau and Defensive Escort Alpha both attach to Flagship TF Invictus, with Alpha deploying interceptors around the Fleet Command Invictus. Destroyer groups Mu and Destroyer group Delta blast Destroyer group Hammer with focused fire. (Capital Ship) Mu & (Cruisers) Delta are successful in their assault. Delta has reduced damage values because of penalties suffered for multiple task forces focusing on a singular task force. (-2 Cumulative). Total damage to SHIELDING and HULL is 6 + 6. (-9 to Shields and -3 to Hull) @Godfrey d'Outremer Please distribute this to one of the cruisers in Destroyer Group Hammer Flagship Invictus unleashes their Axial Laser, tearing into the Hellrider task force composed of Vengeance and Defiance. Total damage to SHIELDING is 6. (-6 SHIELDING) @Godfrey d'Outremer Please distribute this between the ships in the Hellrider task force. Precision Strike Carrier Group Omega scrambles bombers to hit Destroyer Group Hammer, assisted by another bevy of bombers launched from the Star-fighter Action Bombers Inbound. Total Damage to the Hull is 4. (-4 Hull) @Godfrey d'Outremer Please distribute this damage to the Destroyer Group Hammer. (Tried to be as thorough as I could be, as this is a demo for the community at large. Enjoy guys.) Footnotes of DMed attacks, not including stealth actions: Scout: Hammer, Sickle, and Banner are going after Mu. Precision Strike Carrier Groups with Support from the Hellriders after Delta Escorts are protecting the carriers Axial targets Omega, with support of starfighter action (Bombers Inbound) _____ Naitan: Battleline Escort Tau and Defensive Escort Alpha both attach to Flagship TF Invictus, with Alpha deploying interceptors around the flagship Destroyer groups Mu and Delta are targeting Destroyer group hammer with focused fire. Flagship Invictus is targeting the Hellrider task force composed of Vengeance and Defiance. Task force Omega is scrambling bombers to target Destroyer group hammer with bombers inbound. [Stealth Action] Starfighter action for the round goes towards bombers inbound on Destroyer group hammer.
  3. From the sunken caves beneath the cold bedrock of Umbara, Exodus was returned to realities of this era, with little from his kin that he could take pride in. The brotherhood of the Sith had rotted into delinquency, dishonorably broken apart and hunted into three parts of a sniveling extinction. Black Sun was dead, sitting with idle hands and too few in numbers that it was laughable. Operations stalled entirely with no one to champion their progression. There was no evolution, in fact, it looked as if every step was taken to ensure that the infamous factions of power became painfully inept. They all shared the blame, they were all guilty and caught red-handed in his eyes. It was Exodus that took the reins of the dark and saddled them into an Empire that would sweep the galaxy, and it was Exodus that bargained with the fading flames of the Black Sun, fanning them to life once more and sheltering them into an alliance that would return them to power. Only a fool would believe they stood a chance without the Sith, no more than a couple whippings from embarrassment. The divide between the Blood Prince and Zalis was glaring, beyond ailing. Public opinion traded in these truths, hear-say and propaganda that illustrated each and every turn that the Spider made to push these forces through, sanctioning the safety of his allies and those that followed him into the fray. Not just one victory, but one after the other and another. Yet, there were many that were sightless and ignorant to these truths, just as Raven was before she fell. He had neither the time, nor patience to educate the apparent children of this galaxy. All he could do was offer wisdom when he could, and yank the weeds from his garden when they reared their pitiful heads. He was a testament to the survival of not one, but two of the galaxy's most powerful empires. Failures would be a part of the journey, and for those, he would be as prepared as he could be. There were fewer and fewer men and women that were in his likeness, or of his mind, and this was what slowly made the young King colder. "Do not patronize me, Delta." There were others that had committed themselves in totality to the Spider, others that moved even now, to capture worlds on a Red Campaign in the name of the Sith Empire. Ca'Aran would eventually decide which side of the coin he would land on. Whether he ranked amidst fools who could not contribute or value the vision, or he rose higher than the achievements of an archetypal criminal, forging a legacy beyond those that had betrayed him. Ingratitude had a price, and it would be paid in full one way or another. The Dark King sized the trooper as he paced the lengths of his temporary abode, passing the dry armories and weaponry splayed across tables. He weighed the importance of such a creature, wondering if he could endure all of which he had asked for, and more. "Colonel Ca'Aran. The responsibility is yours." Exodus had moved further from him now, sinking deeper into the shadows. His voice crawled from the darkness, rummaging through small treasuries that the Vipera had been instructed to deliver prior to this meeting. A small-scale case floated towards the clone, suspending before him and opening to reveal a commemoration inside. The medallion had a black ribbon with purple linings, as well as three silver dots on each side near the medal. In addition, the medal itself possessed a tower-like design at the top, which ended with three prongs, and the circular emblem that featured an engraving that resembled the iconic TIE fighter. The Medal of the Emperor's Fist was an Imperial medallion awarded for distinguished services to the Emperor in strengthening and maintaining galactic peace. Each of the surviving lieutenants would have by now, received Medals of Valor for their efforts. "Lima Company will assist you while you levy a personal Brigade by way of your Imperial advancement. Make for Salliche, Colonel. Bring the planet to a kneel and wash Dark Sun from your hands." Brigade: ranged from 5,000 to 7,500 soldiers, led by a Colonel.
  4. Salliche Astrographical Information Region: Core Worlds Sector: Agricultural Circuit System: Salliche System Orbital Position: 4 Moons: 2 Grid Coordinates: L-11 Physical Information Class: Terrestrial AgriWorld Atmosphere: Type 1, breathable Primary Terrain: Endless expanse of food crops, farms, water aqueducts, and clustered villages Points of Interest: Capital of Netassa, Harbright Mansion Societal Information Indigenous Species: Human Immigrated Species: Humans, Verpine, AgriDroids Primary Language(s): Galactic Basic, Verpine, Binary Faction Affiliation: Neutral Defense Rating: Level 1 JediRP Canon History: One of the 18 Agriworlds run by the extensive network of the Salliche Agricultural Corporation, Salliche is the oldest operating AgriWorld in the Core Worlds. Its commanding capital of Netassa contains the corporation headquarters of the SAC and the keys to the Agricultural Circuit. (Requested by Delta73)
  5. "Honorable then," He stressed the word. Truthfully, he did not care in the least. It was not for a lack of sympathy, but rather a cold indifference borne of names he once knew as well, names perished to war and famine. To the dirt is where their bones and bodies rotted, souls traveling the dark expanse of the afterlife, alone and bereft of ambition. Yet, Ca'Aran listed a few, friends even. Attachments that both strengthened him, and softened him in other ways. The predictive capacity of clones, the thirstful seed of camaraderie, this one was no different than the others he had studied. The stories of this man were telling, once a drunkard who relished obscene over-indulgence, worshiping little more than the reflection in his mirror. Killing senselessly and without purpose, and bedding himself with anything willing to part legs. He was a barbarian, but one debauched in utter buffoonery, a would-be jester in his courts. He was changing though, becoming harder, lens much clearer than they had ever been. The two had known each other for decades loosely, and finally the promise of Ca'Aran began to blossom in a quiet rage. There was an odd nature when it came to the Spider, one that pulled the very best out of those that drew near. "T'uulia. See to it that the fallen are recognized, ceremonies in their honor, and restitution for their families." Exodus spoke plainly, feeling the eyes of the Vipera curiously look his way. She obliged softly, voice as savory as honey, leaving the royal canvas behind. There were no gilded furnishings, no banquet tables of abounding exotic foods or wines, nor were there any of the affluent trappings that the Blood Prince was generally accustomed to here. Burning incenses bleeding with alimentary smoke, water and sea-mosses to cure and calm the wounds, and Sith artifacts that played in the dark. Sanitation was a peculiarity with the Dark King, not an extravagance. "I share in your grievances, for your losses are my own." He stood now, taller than the Captain, a primal husk of a creature. "There were those that advised us to leave you to die at Dark Sun, the many thousands of you thoroughly cornered. The losses would have been far greater, more definitive. Your lively maturation would have ceased, and your legend would be a mockery. You would fall, and be a protector of nothing." Just as Arkaab Skon before. "There were losses there too, Ca'Aran, odds stacked imposingly against you. There was a sacrifice made in your favor." The Emperor-King spoke in ways that allowed reality to settle in slowly, resting on the coattails of his truth. "They would have butchered you and your companions. Quite efficiently, might I add. Just as I could have done to these whimpering Glory Bound." He spit the words out. "Yet that is the hubris of scum, too sick and cowardly to dirty their hands for themselves. The civilians, our workforce, would perish pathetically and for nothing, we would not see true expansion if we annihilated each and everything we set our gaze too. Development would stifle, under-fed by the growing unrest of innocents sheepishly terminated, food and flame for the Rebellion. The Lords of Dark before myself, were all tyrannically mad for show, weak in their wisdom, burning out faster than a flame set to the tides of Mon Calamari. They could not have built this, they lacked the vision. We are conquerors, we fight, and we die; yet we are Rule, we will decree preservation for those faithful to our code." The mulberry vapor in the air sieved through the nostrils, and burned the irises to a faded shine of white. The solution nebulized and injected the drums of the force inside of his bones. He was electric with power, energy replenishing within the small space he drew rest. Exodus explained these things to his Captain, satiating one of his most promising soldiers with a mandate different than the ones he was accustomed to. This would equal his longevity, this would become his legacy, Ca'Aran of power and promise. These were his tests, and his missions and directives would pull him through an understanding that would rival beliefs he once had. This was the reset he needed, and the one Exodus could foresee. If he failed in these things, if he fell short of his excellence, Exodus would be the one to cull the poison from the root. The Dark King would not stretch himself thin, running this Sith-Imperial machine, he would nurture those into a power of their own and see them flourish. "If I have failed in this. Show me, brother." There was openness in his voice, stern but also dripping with challenge. The Vipera swallowed a deep gulp, and Exodus stood before his Captain.
  6. There were thousands that had lost their lives to the cold clutches of Coruscant, most still burning out by the second. The strong, the weak, and the miserable in-between. A nightmare haunted the broken lands. Exodus had searched, but he had found no joy in this war, besides the culling of the unworthy, or the hunt of a true adversary, these tribulations were a working tire. It was simply kill, or be killed. These were the words his father breathed, living them harder than any Sith he had ever known, beating the ideals into him until his back had scarred maliciously. There were few that could challenge him now, his father no exception. Even the ilk of the Jedi had soured like spoiled milk, yet Skon had reminded him of blood. The scent of it would never leave his hands, nor did he wish to be rid of it. And now, another most familiar with the taste, had come before him. Ayda pressed a white towel against his wild hair, dampening it from the wash. Ilya wrapped obsidian stones in a red cloth, tightly and without touching the cold embrace of it, tucking them securely into a container. They both wore masks now, grossly ornamental in every way, animalistic in their designs and covering every inch of their faces. The colors were hauntingly mixed yet complimentary to their skin, doing their best to distract from their supernatural beauty, ensuring that those that looked upon them were not completely usurped of their senses. The Vipera served their King passionately, and the Spider never thought two ways about it. His attention to detail, cleanliness and order were strange quirks for a man that could murder so savagely, and the hands of these powerful women eased these small burdens. "Our victory, Ca'Aran." The Dark King spoke the name with a strange accent, undoubtedly tinged in High Sith, growling the enunciation indifferently. Whether it was the duel he spoke of, or the conquest that invested them to a dying rock, it was one and the same. The Imperial Machine was an engine of evolution, fueled by the might and power of freedom. Whether it was the stormtrooper that had cut down another with impassioned blaster fire, or an animal in the vein of Nyrys the carnivorous severing her foes, any and all beneath the banner of the Spider would grow. "How many dearest to you, have you lost? Speak freely, what are their names?" There was something cold in the way his voice remained so assuring, yet poetically haunting. He looked up from where he sat, exfoliating his hands with the poisonous mosses of Umbara by way of a simple basin, locking eyes with his Blood Prince.
  7. Exodus


    SKULLCLAMP. Sentient memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, they often change. Surrender them here, and eternity is yours. Affiliation: Sith Empire Manufacturer: Ancient Krath Power Source: The Dark Side Size: 10 Centimeters Composition: Sith Steel, Sith Alchemy Type: Dark Artifact / Unique Description The artifact mechanically harvests the mind of the wearer when they're alive, and retains it in death. Function While wearing the skullclamp, you can access the memories of the last creature to die while wearing it. If a creature dies wearing a skullclamp, all of their memories are stored in the artifact, and can be accessed by the next wearer. A skullclamp only contains the memories of the most recent creature to die while wearing it. If you are killed while wearing the skullclamp, your memories replace the previous set that it had recorded.
  8. L E G I O N. On the outskirts of the residential, hulking armored machines hibernated protectively, lining the bordering shields that shelled them from moonfall. TIE Fighters, colossal mecha, and a vast collection of transports hummed at bay. Industrious crowds roamed astir. Soldiers from all walks made their presence known. Color varnishes of black, red, and of white armor plates marched from the bulk of transports. Entire hosts of the Imperial Legion stamped their marked banners into the earth, asserting their ranks, strength and positioning to claim pieces of the land. Gargantuan canvases pitched themselves high, ripe with the rich colors of their unit regalia, encampment tents that reached dangerously close to the yawning entrance of a forgotten Sith Temple. Sanctioned standards held a medley of fearsome creatures, bloody bludgeoning weapons, and the hardest of names. All raised high, but none higher than the Imperial Spider. A herculean awning heaved highest beneath the temple collapse, belonging to none other than the young conqueror. Brazen aurum and silken shadows gilded the royal encampment, regal drapery in the minimalist customs of the King of the Sith. Inside, Exodus rummaged through documents, tediously shuffling through holo-screens to structure the next step for the hungry imperial machine. Dark herbs and plain fire burned incessantly, billowing a soothing and seductive aroma that filled the space. The smell was enriched with amphetamines, a nourishment that speared through the lungs. Beautiful bone-setters and masseuses skirted around the Dark Lord, washing his wounds tirelessly and combing through the knots in his body. The powerful incense was more than enough to remedy the exhaustion that ran through him, but the company of the maternal had been a preference he kept closely. These women were the acme of beauty and strength, the most astute of assassins bred with exotic physical traits far beyond a quality known to core worlds. They would kill him just as quick as he would blink, or try their hand at it, but their admiration for the Allfather of Assassins was second to none. Only he could dwell in the company of the Kodashi Vipera. "..You couldn't just break his little windpipe?" She whipped sarcastly, playing at the wild mane of the Spider. "Why toy with him?" Her face was milk, smoother than the bed of stone etched by the harshest of waters. The way in which she stared into the emerald eyes of her King, daring and true. "Killing him too soon, the rest of them would think of me as a cheat. He had to earn his burial. The promise was made, Ayda." Exodus challenged the amethyst charms her eyes were filled with, uprooting an honest smile. She was a Goddess. She took the sweltering warmth of medicinal cloth and soaked it over his shoulders. Close enough, pressing her body against his, allowing the ointment to run down his arms. Blinking slow, she knew she could tear out his throat from this distance. It was not far from the truth to say that she had considered it more times than once, but she preferred the smell of the cold hard death that accompanied his auric vibration much more. If she missed the kill, there was something unsettling about seeing him maddened. Not many have truly seen it, and those that have, say it is a terror worse than butchering. "Promises mean nothing, Malachi. Why do you men continue to throw such words around? The wrinkles in her nose meant that she was offended by the word, promises made and broken by a past she refused to share. Exodus hadn't pressed it, never searched her mind for the answers. The other women that rested about, sharpening his tools and preparing his war raiment, each of them turned their attention away when Ayda vexed. "There is value in words, Ayda. Promises are a comfort to those that would have them, to those that are accepting of them. They loosen their guard with belief, and then they become less than what they were; prepared for less than the worst. The promise, the words, are simply a sedation. And we are the venom thereafter." Exodus explained these things distractedly, and with a calming voice, placing his real attention on the screens that he filtered through intensely. He continued to digest streams of information that various councilmen extracted and uploaded to the feed, allowing Exodus to remain abreast with his hands-on approach, categorizing the worth of those that served him. The King would shoulder the entire weight of the Imperial Machine until those that he had groomed, could bear their share of the power. Exodus paused in that same thought, as if hearing a sound too far and too distinct for any other here. "The Blood Prince has landed, have an emissary send for him. I will have words.."
  9. Howlers. Special Operations Company "L'yukstiwr" Basic Information Roots: Coruscanti Sector, previously the Glory Bound. Company Composition Company Commander: Emperor Exodus Executive Officer: Captain Laz Rull () --- Strike Group I: Close Quarters Lieutenant Ivia Uso, (F) --- Strength 14 weapon specialists 3 medical specialists 2 heavy weapon specialists 1 heavy gunnery specialist Strike Group II: Close Quarters Lieutenant Oevas Qun, (M) --- Strength 14 weapon specialists 3 medical specialists 2 heavy weapon specialists 1 heavy gunnery specialist Strike Group III: Fire Support Lieutenant Nyra Nepmu --- Strength 6 weapon specialists 4 medical specialists 5 mortar specialists 5 heavy gunnery specialist Strike Group IV: Anti-Vehicle Lieutenant Jamos Byl --- Strength 6 weapon specialists 4 medical specialists 8 heavy weapon specialists 2 heavy gunnery specialist Strike Group V: Assault Lieutenant Oddeus Viszard --- Strength 10 weapon specialists 4 medical specialists 6 heavy weapon specialists 4 heavy gunnery specialist 1st Attachment: Heavy Vehicle Attachment Lieutenant Ziorr Bairn --- Strength 20 Zeus Strike Craft 10 ATPT walkers 4 Self Propelled Artillery Functionalities kjhlhgfjhfjhjvhj
  10. T E M P L A T E Captain Laz Rull, Ivia Uso, Oevas Qun, Nyra Nepmu, Jamos Byl, Oddeus Viszard, Ziorr Bairn In the hours past, each of them came to heel. The Emperor placed the decision to live or die, in their very palms. Curious was their nature when the proposition was made, because such offerings came with a price. They wished to live, they were driven by the impressions of Glory, an insatiable craving instilled by those that had dismissed them from culture. The ache of abandonment, of betrayal, burned deeper than the crossing of foes. They made an exception here. This Sith before them, when he spoke, their ears filled with spurring aspirations. It was unexplainable to them really, how his words burrowed inside of their minds convincingly, how his strength of presence swayed them so easily from the intractable Skon. He had never cared for them anyways, and had become drunk on tall tales of dark artifacts, losing the interest of his warrior people. “.. The Sith Empire. Arkaab did not believe word when it came. The Emperor, do you serve him directly?” Laz Rull steadied his words as the Howlers listened curiously from their T-visors. Exodus did not respond immediately, eyes still trained on the hilt of his legendary blade. The band sank several feet back from their Captain, doing their best to review weaponry or pack the remnants of their automated defenses, still careful not to miss a lick of information shared. The Imperial Reclamation Service had arrived, and with them, military transports in droves. The excavated territory was now fielded by dozens and dozens of scholars, archaeologists, and well-experienced Imperial soldiers. Improvised camps were assembled in double-time upon arrival, armored vehicles bullied over difficult terrain, and zone-shielding brewed alive from impressive external batteries. It was as if an entire skeletal framework now etched itself around these immediate coordinates, a functioning bastion that would wreath the Spider. “It is easier said, that you and your clansmen serve directly.” His reply felt fatigued, unconcerned in the title of things or the decorum of conversation. “Much more will be clear to the company you command, and this.. readjustment will await you in the Maw. For now, gather your people and prepare yourselves in Quarantine. Medical inspections are underway, and there are a lot of your dead to sort through.” Matters of a classified nature were held within the labyrinths of the Maw, affairs of indoctrination and curriculum devoted to extreme cases of survival, expounding on what these warriors already knew. Imperial soldiers stormed the sector now, TIEs screaming low, while the heavier crafts nurtured the near horizons. The Howlers were dejected in truth, the feeling of welcome would not be instantaneous, it would have to be earned on the battlefield. They gathered themselves mournfully, and made way for a new journey.
  11. L E S S O N Weariness, Coruscant began to weigh on him. His breathing was harder, less composed than what others had seen of him in these past few years. Yet, his body felt incredible. It was his mind that fell tired. The thrill of mortality pumped through his veins, unsettling the patience that once rested in his eyes, brewing a wildfire of fervor that bellowed from his chest. His body surged with dark power, but his mind wilted slowly. “..Glory or Death?” Exodus dragged the dead leader through the mud distractedly, ignoring the very distinct attention this gathered him. He could feel the eyes of the cavern lock his way, he could hear the sour sounds of sorrow whimper from the remaining few, of shock and anguish and disbelief. They were fools, unacquainted to the awes of war. They would learn. "We heard Skon's gambit. The Glory Bound is yours. Kill us or command us, our lives are yours now. We follow the banner of strength, as our fathers before us. We are capable, but dishonored, exiled. Every last man here seeks to reclaim that honor through combat or death in combat. As Death Watch, we are already considered dead among our own kind, until we become so. Do you understand?" An unbowed Mandalorian met Exodus mid-way. He was tall, unremarkable before the Emperor-King, but chose his words with surprising certainty in his voice. The man kept his arms from his weapons, which meant he was less a fool than the other that had reached for one, but a fool nevertheless given that he chose to remain helplessly inside these caves. Skon spoke of faith before his face was crushed in; how much faith did these men and women have in him? The thought of it made him smile charmingly, innocently with the life-blood of Skon basting the hand that held the lifeless body. He let go, dripping death from his fist. The perished leader of the Glory Bound hit the surface with a stifled smack, a trail of red had followed their mild trek, now becoming a muddy mess from beneath him. The sounds irked out from them again, that of mewling and sobbing, whimpering. “..L'yukstiwr” A simple word in the lowest of Sith diction, but suiting. “Your name. What is it?” Exodus chewed at the sentence, imperial in tone, and impatient with his precious time. His hair was loose, matted to his face and his neck, barbarically ashen black yet strangely regal against his stern visage. He was every inch a King of the Dark, staring coldly into the visor of the brave. “Rull,” he said flatly, the small trace of fear in him somehow began to surface through his helmet. He was the closest, he moved closer than the others to witness the duel. The hairs on his skin raised when he watched the Sith move as if the wind were his to command. Mandalorians held their own against the best of them, both juggernauts of battle. Somewhere in his mind, somewhere perverse, he wished to test just how far this Sith could go. Maybe one day, but what was this man like unchained? That’s where the growing fear lay. He shuddered at the thought Exodus reached out, and a blade whizzed towards his hand. He snatched it from the air and lowered himself over the body of Skon. Rull hesitated, unsure if this was a declaration of the end, or something else. Exodus spun the small foreign steel between his fingers and drove it into the chest cavity of the fallen leader. Skon was already dead, no reaction came from him. Exodus adjusted the depth of the blade, feeling out the positioning. The Mandalorian may have been sturdier in a past life, but the artifacts of the dark had drained him of incredible muscle mass, sickening his cells into deprivation. The angle rang true, and the Dark Lord tore strongly in one direction, splitting Skon open between his breasts. Nasty business, the sight of the man wretched open from collar bone to belly button, was unnerving. "Captain Rull. I need you to see this." Exodus squatted for a moment, reviewing his crude handiwork. The blade in his hand hung lax, bouncing to an unheard rhythm as he showcased the scene before him. "Flesh, and blood. No one can tell what goes on between the person you were and the person you become. No one can carry you there. There are no maps of the change, and swearing fealty to fate will do you no favors. You just come out the other side.. Or you don't." He said these things plainly, attempting to unhinge the belief that the matter of their survival was indeed out of their control. it was not. "You will temper yourselves in the wild fire of the Dark Side, growing stronger. You will learn that when you find suffering, you learn survival. To cheat this law, will leave you no better than your friend here." The Emperor had heard Rull issue a surrender moments before, soldiers to the rear that radioed the submission with haste. Exodus was not concerned, the Blood Prince would butcher those that stood in his path, Nyrys haunted the surface of the planet as a living nightmare, Telperiën the Golden ran as rampant as a plague through her enemies. The names he familiarized himself with, the names that had carved themselves into the echelon of the Sith Empire would reign supreme, indifferent of the enemy that stood before them. "All honest effort produces lessons. We must embrace every type of learning, even failure." Exodus looked over Skon, in his failure as a man, as a leader. He then turned his focus to Captain Rull, and several others that drew closer now, gathering safely around the Sith King. Each of them listened intently, uncertain where this may lead their clan, if finding glory where it was one striped, was possible here. "I assume that this lesson was clear, unless there exists another that would like to review what little Skon has learned?" The Glory Bound dropped to one knee collectively, bowing before the Emperor-King in decision. Each of them hammered their fist against armor in salute, the emphatic gesture signaled their obedience, their servitude now signed in the blood of a man that none would remember when history was written. All across Coruscant, in it's space and on it's surface, the clans made their peace. Whether it was life, or war, mattered not. Those that crossed over into the Empire, would be commanded to strike out against their kin, eliminating smaller pockets of resistance. Those that fulfilled their duties with hesitation, were marked and disposed of by a most hidden Inquisition. The fires of Coruscant dwindled now, and the chaos of the lands settled before the might of the Sith Empire.
  12. Bludgeoning speed became punishment. Skon was awarded with a few slippery strikes, even connecting with the face of the Spider. Trickling blood as black as venom and a pristine smile were the welcome, with little in the way of an actual knock back to impede the aggressive onslaught of the King. For every punch his foe landed, Exodus returned a demoralizing three to four that echoed through the bones of the Mandalorian. They both fed their feet into the dirt in order to source a meatier grip, both men dually fighting the slipping gravel beneath their boot with meteoric spray splashing their proximity. Exodus chewed another four knuckles to the face, eating the impact whole. Whether it affected him or not, was not a thing visible in the way he continued to move forward. Nothing slowed the assassin, not even for a moment's time. In fact, the widening of his toothy grin became more apparent with each hit, amusement tauntingly drawn across his soft features. Exodus countered with a force to wake Vadmir from his eternal rest, cracking into his opponents' rib-cage with a swift upper, followed by a cold straight to the face. The sound of the hit alone was jarring, slapping like thunder across his face. The powerful strikes were the distraction, the lighter jabs targeted pressure points and more vulnerable joints on the body, worsening the hesitant efficiency of the warrior. Skon was failing form quickly, arms loosening to a slack, body weight sluggishly hammered backwards until he could stand no longer. Exodus stalked forward still, wiping the blood from his mouth, ceaseless in his curiosity. Something dangerous stirred in those eyes. The way in which he watched over his prey, mechanically searching out any hostile language of the body, revealed much about his approach to the hunt. "I don't...understand...I was meant to...to be..." "...This is beyond the struggle of two men. This was fate, was it not?" Exodus mimicked the words that Skon had shared earlier, a tone of sarcasm cutting into his baritone. “The weak have deceived you. They would say that the meek shall inherit the universe, and that the strong should nurture the gentle.” He pauses, spitting the taste of blood from his mouth. “It is kill or be killed, Skon. Your faith in fate has offered you fearlessness yes, but fleetingly. Such sandcastles find themselves devastated against the heaviest of tides. Power must be won you see, and with the years of your life purchased in blood and survival. What you do not understand, is a reality harder to swallow than the preaching of the blind. What you thought you were meant for, was nothing more than a sharpened fallacy. You kneel before the Dark Side now, and I will reap what you’ve sown, deliverer of what you wished for.” "I challenge you, Sith. The true test of the warrior. No armor, no weapons, to the death.." Exodus massaged the joints in his fingers, warming them for a necessary pain. He drew closer to the Mandalorian now, understanding the paralysis of defeat that numbed his opponents' body, the look of disoriented terror filling his expression. The nature of surrender was far too familiar for the Anzati Warlord, such was the demonstration of all prey he had come across in his years. Now, closer than he had ever been, close enough to ingest the reek of fear from sweat-soaked clothes, the Emperor halted. Exodus reached through the tangle of greasy hair on Skon's head with his bare hand, twisting slowly, gripping at the lengths for control. His right foot planted as pivot, the opposite slid backwards now in gathering. The arm opposite of the one that held Skon like a ragdoll moved likewise, rearing backwards steadily like a rattlesnake readying to deliver death. "You've fought well." The Dark Lord hammered his face with his dominant left, again and again. Each strike was particular, methodical and bone-crushing. The first might have been shook him from his wallowing, but the second and third stole years from his life. The fourth and fifth found blood, phlegm and tooth spewing from his face. Exodus did not stop. The thrashing was strangely paced, with enough time in between for Skon to try and exercise a breath. He couldn't. Quickly, the legs of the Mandalorian came out from underneath him, just as consciousness slipped away in pieces, asphyxiated with pain. Exodus clutched harder now, keeping the body of his enemy suspended from the floor. Breaking his nose, breaking his face, breaking his spirit. Exodus found no enthusiasm in this, just an irresistible itch to put out the flames of hope. Such stubborn cinders. He had lost count after the sixteenth, not that he was interested in keeping track. The body had fallen limp much before, but at last, the hair that he held on to had torn from his scalp. The body had collapsed with a face unrecognizable. Exodus flipped the body over, and dragged him from his collar, back into the cave.
  13. Exodus


    T I T A N LUXURY CRUISER Astrographical Information Stationary or Mobile: Mobile Current Location: Colonies Grid Coordinates: N/A Physical Information Hyperdrive Capabilities: Class 4 Size: 610 Meters Physical Description | Exterior: Standard Physical Description | Interior: Standard Physical Description | Other: N/A Hangars: Standard with addition of Private Hangars Tactical Information Faction Affiliation: Black Sun Crew Complement: 135 Fighter Complement: N/A Shields: Standard Armaments: Twin Blaster Cannons(8) Defense Protocol: Civilian Patrons JediRP Canon History A new design by Chandrilla, made specifically for Black Sun, the Chandrilan Class II starship is the top of its class when it comes to luxury liners. The cruise liner features top line staterooms for costumers to stay in along with a personal service droid in each stateroom. The liner offers up unique places for any guest to feel welcomed, all of which includes 12 different dining options, including 4 main dining halls, 8 cantinas, five grand floors of casino options and 3 theaters for entertainment pleasure. There are also 3 unique spas onboard along with 2 game centers and 3 libraries of holodramas. There is also a meeting room for anyone looking to combine work and pleasure. It is also equipped with 5 Sienar-Chall Utilipede transports for guests to travel to planet side for an excursion on their trip. The ship also has special accommodations for Black Sun, which includes a private hangar that can house up to 4 freighter size ships and private staterooms for up to 7 Vigos to stay onboard the ship at any given time. There is also a personal meeting room for them alone, and a personal office space/stateroom for Zalis. (Written by @Roleplayer X, first post goes to him.)
  14. E Y E S P Y. Gears turned unorthodox, strikes of which were less routine. His opponent wasted no time, rolling forward with renewed conviction, unveiling a sharper repertoire of combinations. Exodus met him within a whisker, powerful physical energy ricocheting each time their guards met. It was difficult at first, resisting the temptation to unbind the shackles of the force between his fists and punch a hole through the chest of the Mandalorian, but the demur of Skon bothered him more than he realized. Besides, nothing was more euphoric than a traditional barehanded slug-fest. Blood, bruises, and broken bones. The brutal trades between the two broke under the weight of unnatural clouds opening up above them with a garish crack of thunder, drumming fantastically across the terrain. Exodus pushed backwards, avoiding what the senses in his ears rang out. Moonfall punched into the field with a heavy foot, digging into the broken flatland with fierce-piston like power. The world around them shook violently, pandemonium evolving just outside the reach out of the cove. The assassin shuffled from the immediate impact, dashing a small distance from the cratering while remaining locked onto his target. Overly thawed soot rained down his backside as he watched the Mandalorian escape further into the open battlefield, tracing where his feet carried him. Exodus drew a longer breath than usual, natural responses to stress and adrenaline attempting to numb his concentration. Excitement tickled his nerves too, but the assassin remained doggedly focused on his kill, as was ordinary for any that held the heritage of an Anzati huntsmen. Exodus traced the distance that Skon levied, picking up a predators’ stride while he tracked his prey the long way. Skon hurried recklessly into the open fields, trading his blind sides to clear himself from the debris. Swift and accurate passage across these scarred lands would prove difficult under panic, yet Exodus stirred as neatly as a cold-blooded vornskr. Another whip of lightning and thunder cracked the atmosphere, blinding the battlefield behind them. When his mark did not turn, Exodus hounded forward with incredible speed. Haste consumed him, hungering forward while the black of his robes tapered in the wind. “.. Unlike me you say? What do you know of the King of the Sith?” Sickening laughter echoed from every which way. His free-run sprung over great distances in the most efficient of time, stitching himself to the shadow of Skon, immediately recovering the separation of space. Calloused black-leather boots hammered the uneven rock, yet each and every step seemed completely empty of sound. “Behind you.” The whispering voice lied. The assassin descended from above as fierce as meteor-fall. His body was spinning, turbulence kindred to an unruly typhoon. Brutally, he opened up into a spinning hook kick meant to take the head of his opponent clean off with the blade of his foot.
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