Exodus

HOUNDS “Every once in a while, I get the urge. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? The urge for destruction. The urge to hurt, maim, kill. It’s quite a thing, to experience that urge, to let it wash over you, to give in to it. It’s addictive. It’s all-consuming. You lose yourself to it. It’s quite, quite wonderful. I can feel it, even as I speak, tapping around the edges of my mind, trying to prise me open, slip its fingers in. And it would be so easy to let it happen. But we’re all like that, aren’t we? We’re all barbarians at our core. We’re all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am. I’m sure you are. The only difference between us, is how loudly we roar. I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you? Do you think you can match me?” - Human Poet. “The night belongs to beasts of prey, and always has. It's easy to forget that when you're hidden, protected by light and solid walls.” Heavy transports settled in the dozens across the expanse, crashing through thick spools of dark clouds and stalks of vegetation that bullied the tempestuous skies with extraordinary color. There were not many planets as rich in power as this, as vibrant with life as it was with death and gloom. Arriving at Felucia was never an entering of the atmosphere as much as it was a divine digestion of ego and thought; an overwhelming body of ecosystems intent on devouring the spirit, and turning flesh to fodder from any living being, a feeling undeniable when crossing into the biosphere. "My Lord, your victory awaits.” __ Slowly, the Emperor approached. Every move he made was a deep tunneling shudder into the stainless panels that ran through the floors of the transport, and into the very bones of the eerie Nightsisters. The accumulation of power and gloom magnified a thousand-fold as he neared now, awakening anew from a meditation with conscious shadows. Now they followed his every stride, shadows free-flowing like water from the black of his nightmarish armored shell, reaching and sweeping as if threadlike bones set upon great ethereal wings. Pointing towards the mechanical exit hatch, the slab of metal and the hydraulics that supported it, whined as it unwound and opened the transport to the cool chill of the Felucian habitat. In similar a manner, the rest of the landed vessels began to heave open and reveal their contents to the small communities of natives that gathered cautiously. Black plastoid-armors of incredible distinction rolled out in military fashion, weaponized militia reminiscent of purge-variant stormtroopers, marching silently from their ships in droves. The powerful Imperial Crest was championed on each of their shoulders, while their hands were uniformly equipped with DC-15A blaster rifles, DC-15LEs, DC-15A blaster carbines and E-11 blaster rifles. These were far from medical tools, and further yet from peaceable banners. Large pennants of the Sith Empire emerged from a few of the ships, waving high above something much more sinister. Unusual creatures were led from the larger units of transports, Sith beastmasters walking in tow with hungry and impatient Tuk'ata. Guardians of Korriban snarled and snapped at the crisp novelty of Felucia, horns and dangerous rows of teeth clenching as their food wandered impishly from their hutts. These beasts were bred to be fearless and utterly relentless while roaming more intelligently than many animals their size. Alchemy had changed them into unnatural abominations, allowing them to speak the old language and to mutate into sizes that far exceeded the imagination. This was just a sample of what was to come. "Telperiën, inform the Generals ..Our cousins are here, their stench is undeniable." The Emperor cast his dark gaze towards the indigenous, staring out at them as the fear in them steadily grew to tremendous heights. Stepping forward, slowly once more, he sighed. "They shall answer for their place in this war, each of them, and our Hounds will see their bellies full before long."

THE FELUCIAN HARVEST (FOR SITH EMPIRE EYES ONLY) With the recent reclamation of Mon Calamari, the Sith Empire will redouble its efforts to the furthered expansion of its northern-western reach of the galaxy. In order to preserve quadrant-specific locations that efficiently streamline productivity between Korriban, Mon Calamari and Onderon, an effort has been forwarded to annex the wild reach of Felucia. The planet itself is an engineering of the Dark Side of the Force, graciously abundant in flora and fauna that make it desirable for the maturation of the Krath. With an enticing position on the Perlemian Trade Route leading to the Motherworld, and intelligence reports unearthing word of refugee colonies spun from the destruction of Coruscant, Felucia has been marked for harvest. The Fall of the Free Alliance The peoples of Felucia have not gone unnoticed in their treacheries. Although not all exist among the small cities, many of the wilds and jungles of Felucia are littered with the untamed who have long-since purchased their condemnation by aligning themselves with the Jedi Forces. Governing officials and shamans had brokered a deal with the Jedi Order under Grandmaster Darex Trevelian for protection and offered military aid against the Sith, which boldly persisted under Grandmaster Adenna in the form of infamous capital ship constructions that have assaulted Empire-protected worlds. “Discussions weren't long, and they were gratifying to all parties. The Free Alliance was a group of planets that had recently broken off from the Galactic Alliance, but hadn't wanted to become part of the Imperial Remnant. It was a small coalition of worlds who were simply hoping to keep their heads down if war erupted. But they nevertheless wanted to be under the protection of the Jedi Order. Darex explained that the Jedi weren't a defense force, but that he'd be completely open to allowing the Free Alliance to request Jedi aid and assistance. Jenteri agreed, and on top of that, told Darex that his people had sent a gift--a Maurader-class corvette and a Carrack-class frigate. He also promised Darex that if the Jedi ever needed further fleet support, the Free Alliance would help to the best of their ability by allowing them airspace or access to construction teams.” Assassins & Bounty Hunters: Dace Jenteri is a high-valued target and will serve a handsome bounty reward for capture or kill. Remove the Jedi Imprint Although the planet as a whole is largely covered in vast jungles and farms of a most majestic nature, the planet is not without the stamp of inorganic establishments and major positions of concern. There are city-ports run by political parties involved in the trade and survival of the struggling colonies (of which was pushed to the brink by recent plague), as well as major constructions erected for the enterprise of the Jedi. A rumored ‘abandoned’ Galactic Alliance-era Shipyard remains in geosynchronous orbit over a known Jedi Temple, one of which is protected by a planetary ion cannon and planetary shield, a decent ground force, and what was last reported as a small contingency of starfighter craft. “The Jedi Temple on Felucia was the most publicly visible Jedi installations in the Galaxy. Despite the constant threats from the Sith, the Jedi refused to completely hide their presence, hoping to attract as many newcomers and recruits as possible. While there was definitely a Jedi affiliated military presence here, most of the defense strategy revolved around its planetary shields and ion cannons rather than brute strength. Even with the knowledge that a Sith fleet could appear above the vibrant colors of the fungal forests that made up most of the planet, recruits and possibly Force sensitive Aspirants continued to flood into the facility.” Destroy, convert or capture: Destruction of the Jedi Temple* Planetary Ion Cannon Planetary Shield, All resistances and colonies associated with Jedi initiatives . Resource Treasury Nysillin, also known as sillum, or nysillim, is a healing herb grown as a common crop plant on the planet Felucia, and is harvested by a plethora of farming villages. The Yerdua Poison-Spitter blurred the distinction between animal, plant, and fungus. Its trunk is green and the flowering body is usually red and white. The "flower" consists of four thick "petals" with a poison-shooting organ in the center. Although its roots were firmly planted, the Yerdua could maneuver its vine-like trunk and flower with speeds usually associated with animals. It is considered semi-sentient. It could identify threats in its environment, aim, and release poison globules within seconds. If a predator got too close, the pedals would contract together, protecting the sensitive central organs. The Jungle Felucian natives are able to train the plants to guard their villages and trade routes from the native predators, and other enemies. In return, the Felucians feed the Yerdua meat, and keep the plants free of parasites. It is likely that the Yerdua's Poison is used by the Felucians for various purposes as well. On this conquest, we will quickly realize the importance of the farming fields and the farmers that toll them. Most resources within this landscape can prove extremely valuable to the Sith efforts. We are not here to trade with the traitorous, we are here to command and conquer. This world belongs to our people, and all things that reside within. They will bow, or they will burn and be remade. Affliction “Damnation! Or at least that is what they say about our sorry planet. Some say it is the wrath of God, or perhaps the force itself, but the fact still remains. Death has become Felucia. It walks like an old woman through the streets, knocking on some doors, passing others by. In those houses in which she visits the children pass first. Great boils along their lymph nodes, then like a cancer, it spreads through their bodies. Ending in the lungs where it brings a frothy red sputum. It affects immigrants and Felucian the like. Humans die faster than us, but perhaps it is a blessing. May the force protect us.” -Writings of Doctor Kildarn, published in holonet livejournal. The Felucian people have made their bed, and have had their hands in the death of our kind for far too long. They now suffer, as Felucia has turned on them, and the Dark Side eats at their core. The atmosphere class is TYPE I, but we will operate as if it were TYPE II and higher. A plague runs deep within their roots, so we will move with wisdom and carve out any afflictions that we face. Instruct your teams to keep distance, and maintain rank. Any of our sick will be isolated and quarantined, and the excellence of our medical corps will evaluate just what has occurred here and weaponize it if need be. Live samples for our research teams will be generously rewarded. LONG LIVE THE

THE FELUCIAN HARVEST With the recent reclamation of Mon Calamari, the Sith Empire will redouble its efforts to the furthered expansion of its northern-western reach of the galaxy. In order to preserve quadrant-specific locations that efficiently streamline productivity between Korriban, Mon Calamari and Onderon, an effort has been forwarded to annex the wild reach of Felucia. The planet itself is an engineering of the Dark Side of the Force, graciously abundant in flora and fauna that make it desirable for the maturation of the Krath. With an enticing position on the Perlemian Trade Route leading to the Motherworld, and intelligence reports unearthing word of refugee colonies spun from the destruction of Coruscant, Felucia has been marked for harvest. The Fall of the Free Alliance The peoples of Felucia have not gone unnoticed in their treacheries. Although not all exist among the small cities, many of the wilds and jungles of Felucia are littered with the untamed who have long-since purchased their condemnation by aligning themselves with the Jedi Forces. Governing officials and shamans had brokered a deal with the Jedi Order under Grandmaster Darex Trevelian for protection and offered military aid against the Sith, which boldly persisted under Grandmaster Adenna in the form of infamous capital ship constructions that have assaulted Empire-protected worlds. “Discussions weren't long, and they were gratifying to all parties. The Free Alliance was a group of planets that had recently broken off from the Galactic Alliance, but hadn't wanted to become part of the Imperial Remnant. It was a small coalition of worlds who were simply hoping to keep their heads down if war erupted. But they nevertheless wanted to be under the protection of the Jedi Order. Darex explained that the Jedi weren't a defense force, but that he'd be completely open to allowing the Free Alliance to request Jedi aid and assistance. Jenteri agreed, and on top of that, told Darex that his people had sent a gift--a Maurader-class corvette and a Carrack-class frigate. He also promised Darex that if the Jedi ever needed further fleet support, the Free Alliance would help to the best of their ability by allowing them airspace or access to construction teams.” Assassins & Bounty Hunters: Dace Jenteri is a high-valued target and will serve a handsome bounty reward for capture or kill. Remove the Jedi Imprint Although the planet as a whole is largely covered in vast jungles and farms of a most majestic nature, the planet is not without the stamp of inorganic establishments and major positions of concern. There are city-ports run by political parties involved in the trade and survival of the struggling colonies (of which was pushed to the brink by recent plague), as well as major constructions erected for the enterprise of the Jedi. A rumored ‘abandoned’ Galactic Alliance-era Shipyard remains in geosynchronous orbit over a known Jedi Temple, one of which is protected by a planetary ion cannon and planetary shield, a decent ground force, and what was last reported as a small contingency of starfighter craft. “The Jedi Temple on Felucia was the most publicly visible Jedi installations in the Galaxy. Despite the constant threats from the Sith, the Jedi refused to completely hide their presence, hoping to attract as many newcomers and recruits as possible. While there was definitely a Jedi affiliated military presence here, most of the defense strategy revolved around its planetary shields and ion cannons rather than brute strength. Even with the knowledge that a Sith fleet could appear above the vibrant colors of the fungal forests that made up most of the planet, recruits and possibly Force sensitive Aspirants continued to flood into the facility.” Destroy, convert or capture: Destruction of the Jedi Temple* Planetary Ion Cannon Planetary Shield, All resistances and colonies associated with Jedi initiatives . Resource Treasury Nysillin, also known as sillum, or nysillim, is a healing herb grown as a common crop plant on the planet Felucia, and is harvested by a plethora of farming villages. The Yerdua Poison-Spitter blurred the distinction between animal, plant, and fungus. Its trunk is green and the flowering body is usually red and white. The "flower" consists of four thick "petals" with a poison-shooting organ in the center. Although its roots were firmly planted, the Yerdua could maneuver its vine-like trunk and flower with speeds usually associated with animals. It is considered semi-sentient. It could identify threats in its environment, aim, and release poison globules within seconds. If a predator got too close, the pedals would contract together, protecting the sensitive central organs. The Jungle Felucian natives are able to train the plants to guard their villages and trade routes from the native predators, and other enemies. In return, the Felucians feed the Yerdua meat, and keep the plants free of parasites. It is likely that the Yerdua's Poison is used by the Felucians for various purposes as well. On this conquest, we will quickly realize the importance of the farming fields and the farmers that toll them. Most resources within this landscape can prove extremely valuable to the Sith efforts. We are not here to trade with the traitorous, we are here to command and conquer. This world belongs to our people, and all things that reside within. They will bow, or they will burn and be remade. Affliction “Damnation! Or at least that is what they say about our sorry planet. Some say it is the wrath of God, or perhaps the force itself, but the fact still remains. Death has become Felucia. It walks like an old woman through the streets, knocking on some doors, passing others by. In those houses in which she visits the children pass first. Great boils along their lymph nodes, then like a cancer, it spreads through their bodies. Ending in the lungs where it brings a frothy red sputum. It affects immigrants and Felucian the like. Humans die faster than us, but perhaps it is a blessing. May the force protect us.” -Writings of Doctor Kildarn, published in holonet livejournal. The Felucian people have made their bed, and have had their hands in the death of our kind for far too long. They now suffer, as Felucia has turned on them, and the Dark Side eats at their core. The atmosphere class is TYPE I, but we will operate as if it were TYPE II and higher. A plague runs deep within their roots, so we will move with wisdom and carve out any afflictions that we face. Instruct your teams to keep distance, and maintain rank. Any of our sick will be isolated and quarantined, and the excellence of our medical corps will evaluate just what has occurred here and weaponize it if need be. Live samples for our research teams will be generously rewarded. LONG LIVE THE

"Our war, dear Telperiën." Exodus corrected with a show of his hands, sweeping towards the ominous display of fiendish warriors before him, slowly slipping from the yawning shadows that drowned the chambers thickly. “Our enemies long since declared a bold order for ethnic cleansing, becoming an immediate threat towards all who bathed in the power of the force. A galactic alliance that would have taken everything from us; burning our sacred texts, defiling long-standing temples of worship, and chasing our ancestral power into a thing of the past. Absolute extinction is what they wished upon us, never forget the face of such things, the Nightsisters understand this far better than most.” She drew stronger now in her maturity, Exodus had much to reveal to her yet, nuances that would show itself in the form of his first holocron ever doctored towards a singular entity. The one that followed by her side— a student of the dark without a doubt, one that exuded a measure of enthusiasm in the emotions buried deep within him, such power unearthing by the second in tangible waves. Another warrior for the Sith Empire. Just behind the Emperor, the rear stone wall of the chamber jittered loose and began to descend into the floor to reveal an open-space landing zone. As soon as the wall separated, the eerie silence of the room, only previously echoing the words of the Anzati warlord and the golden Nightsister, now filled with a loud burning of thrusters. Several vessels in plain sight anchored themselves to the zone, with many other craft patrolling the skies, or departing for relayed coordinates. "Come. We leave for Felucia. Telperiën, you and your student will assume command over the transports, the strength of our naval forces are to remain unrevealed until I give word. We move in with but a whisper, the storm will follow." Exodus turned now for departure, with the wild orchestra of powerful savages at closing in on him.

Exodus moved a few steps from his champion, now noticing the unfamiliar distance between himself and the weapon that had been by his side for a great many years. Truth was, the conception of such a vile tool of war was nearly lost to him, memories compartmentalized with routine bloodshed and visceral horror. Transcendence became something more then, but when exactly was impossible to know; a sentience that stirred as long as he's ever known with the hunger of his youth. Perhaps it would temper her in the way that it had with him, immortalizing a willpower far superior to those of his ilk, or maybe it would turn her blind with madness. Either way, it's affect was lost on the assassin turned King, he had to become something more than just a blade, and the last several years had shown what that was. In a rush, the Mandalorians pushed through the frame of the much larger chamber doors with their metal boots slapping loudly against the smooth surface of the hall. The measure of their footsteps spelled urgency, illustrating the passion with which Tros Ardell decided to carry himself in the presence of the ruling heirarchy. Then, as a measure of respect that escaped many of the recent power-players he had dealings with, they both removed what was a sacred shield of identity rooted in culture. Their helmets were peeled off without hesitation, expressing an interesting foundation of trust between the two. ___ "Ambitious." Exodus pivoted from the knighting of another Sith Master, and drew his gaze over the confessing Mandalorian. "Surviving Qat Chrystac is far from a simple thing for most. It will serve more efficiently if you maintain what measure of land you can, and introduce the construction of deep mining operations with the task forces assigned to you, and whatever brave you can spare. There is an abundance of rich mineral deposits buried beneath the surface, ripe for yield, and you'd be wise to lose no quarter. The wheels turn swiftly within House Solus, a promising sign. Major General Bann Dul and his commissariat armada have been extended to your favor, accomplish this, and approval for immediate resettlement is yours if you think your people are ready. You and your comrade however, will accompany us on a little trip," Exodus imprinted the features of their face, deeply understanding the sub-communication of their actions. "Master Nyrys knows this better than most, that battle in blood is one of the best revealers of who we truly are at our core. I want to see what you're all capable of. You all will join me in this dance." Turning, moving now passed the recognized seat of power in Iziz, Exodus headed towards a passage that would lead him to his personal chambers, opposite of the Mandalorians and Master Nyrys. "Lady," Exodus swept his cloak with usual charisma. "...gentlemen. The next time we meet will be on the battlefield. Command will touch base shortly. The time for conversation is over. The hunt begins."

Haunted He aged differently than most creatures, attributable to an incredible life-span that was relatively uncharted in common conversations. For that, the King had easily imprinted a look of unparalleled magnetism whenever seen amongst the general public, which went double for the smaller and more sinister of his circles. Charismatic flair remained as his physical undertone whether he hunted the night-skies, butchering through his enemies while their blood painted his skin, or negotiated the fall of worlds with barbaric aggression in closed council. Something had changed, it was true. There were dark creases beneath his eyes now, the focus of them lost on some distant plane, weariness and exhaustion creeping along the finer details of his features. Complexioned skin began to turn for a paler tone, still wet with the kiss of the sun, but fading as if dried too quickly. Natural imperial elegance drained from him slowly, repossessed with a strange hypnotic lure of something displaced and almost feral. The dance of dualities between Emperor of Civilizations and King of the Sith had quietly taken a new swing, and it was the Wild King that now took lead, setting his long gaze ahead. Exodus could graphically imagine what she spoke of, the immediate actions of everything she said, re-animating frame by frame inside of his mind as if he were a simple spider on the wall to the whole experience. Her fall, the tensions, the stirring, and even the posturing of what was to come. Examples of these forecasts and transgressions ran like fast-forwarded screenplay, eroding the reality before him. He drew a deep breath and digested her oration, closing his eyes to find focus. A light footfall somewhere on the marble floor rustle of starched garment in the hallway, "...focus." Ailbasí Zirtani held an extraordinary sense of wisdom that reached higher than most, whether her competitive peers realized this or not, and it afforded her a significant edge in the challenges that were to come. This was not simply rooted in her educational studies of history and the cycles that befell such things, but the innate experiences that continued to draw demand of her mind and her soul, and drew her to become one of the most vicious the Sith had ever seen. Viciousness was not what Exodus saw before him, but the creatures that saw her work, spoke of such displays. Was she as certain of her present state, as her words swore she was? Her realizations in the now, would undoubtedly change again, just as they had when he had last seen her, walking in the flesh of another. A wanderer. As Lady Nyrys fell to one knee, expressing the strength of her allegiance, Exodus signaled off the sentinels with a subtle touch of the mind. Calming, but imperiously demanding. Exodus stepped forward, and for the first time, placed his hand upon the flesh of Ailbasí Zirtani, sweeping his hand over her forehead and through her hair. And then he held it there. A light footfall somewhere on the marble floor rustle of starched garment in the hallway, Now she could hear it, the same way he heard it just moments ago. rank odor of chamberpots, strong incenses, dim light and whispers of low voices– haggard spirits were weeping outside this room, long-deceased fallen gathering in around them, slowly from out of the shadows. Passing them, leering greedy and hateful faces– "Suffering here is unmistakable Champion, pain and isolation, the smell of blood, decaying wound and flesh, lingering in the air is their wastes, unashamed. You are right Ailbasí, darkness stirs, loudly, dangerously, especially in the places we cannot see–" Through him, she could see them as if they walked amongst them. The dead, the wraiths, the weeping spirits; they were all reaching out, wanting. Unsure if this was a reality, or an impression from the mind of a delusional assassin. –perhaps it will wake you some future night, vomit you from a deep sleep with sudden start, thinking to hear and see nothing nothing but the usual silence that fills your room, instead, with a door only half-closed– the faces of the many we've butchered, empty of all expression, uncomprehending– stopping to shuffle their angered gazes in, scratching against the marble, looking to find us at long last, the wretched lonely gaze of the dying– understand that when you come to that shore, be ready and with your blade sharpened." Exodus removed his hand and lifted his chest proudly, stark reality flooding back to natural senses. He drew his most prized possession, his lightsaber Transcendence, and placed it at her feet for her safekeeping. He would not say it, but this meant the future of what he had built, was entrusted to her if he was no more. "Arise, Darth Nyrys, A Master of the Sith." __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Roots Major General Bann Dul kept a watchful composure as he strolled the Iron-Pantheon alongside Vulios of House Solus, understanding the level of patchwork organization that befell the Mandalorians of Qat Chrystac. The overt demands of the planet were extreme, and conditions were threatening to any presences that drew near. Nevertheless, the Emperor had instructed that a manifest of suitable aid be lifted in the name of their allies, to expedite their preparedness for the wages of war that continued to gnaw at the feet of the glorious Sith Empire. "Blunt is preferred, Master Vulios. These reserves and the men that serve, are under jurisdiction of Tros Ardell and House Solus. Whether it's this disastrous rock or another, our men are at your complete service. You know the layout better than most, we will heed your wisdom on the matter." Bann spoke earnestly, voice even-toned under his brandished helmet. Major-General Dul maintained his full Mandalorian regalia, colors varnished in fresh black paint, accentuated by the smoke grey and gold outlines of the Ash Legions. Fearless hounds turned from the war-stricken debris that layered the remnants of Coruscant, bound now to the fist of the Emperor. There were those from his clan that were too prideful to renew their purpose and were sent deep into Sith space for 'repurposing', but there were many that jumped at the idea of a new and glorious beginning. The one who had led them before had shepherded his clans to disgrace and ruin, nearly wiping them from existence, but the Emperor saw purpose when others turned their backs. Hounds of the Ash Legion would do what it took, to cull the blighted enemies of the Sith Empire, and lift their names to purpose. “If the roots of your clan wish to settle elsewhere, you merely have to point to where, I would not blame you, Vulios.” Looking over the analysis of this planet, it wasn’t difficult to see why. “The Emperor is a discerning one, if there is value in this, I am sure he will make a way.”

S O L U S The nigh-uninhabitable planet of Qat Chrystac had always been a sore spot for ease of communication, even more troublesome to scout for it's promise of rich minerals. Old Imperial infrastructure allowed travel to be made and upkept on the star-charts, and now with vested interest from those that inherited the space of the magma-swamped rock, the trips could be purchased with approval. Darth Sensara and the Sphere of Production and Logistics reviewed the information as a whole, even before the Emperor had affirmed the alliance with the Mandalorians, which gave them a head-start on the massive supply run they were already scheduled for. Imperial Ships dropped out of hyperspace en-masse, accompanied by larger warships that wielded varying degrees of absolute power. Mostly however, the smaller vessels were stripped of ammunitions loadout in order to procure additional cargo space, filling them with rations and advanced technologies to handle the unforgiving atmosphere of the planet. Moreover, the Emperor had signed off on the deployment of an IM-X-981 Hostile Environment Garrison for the Mandalorians to make use of during their stay, also commonly known as the Purity for most within the Imperial Corps of Engineers. Garrison bases were typically equipped with three heavy twin turbo-laser turrets and six heavy laser turrets, as well as accompanying tractor beam projectors. Though shielded as this was, garrisons also possessed extensive ground defenses such as anti-infantry and anti-vehicle minefields and a ten-meter high electrified death fence. Most garrison bases were positioned to use the terrain to their advantage, such as setting them into mountainsides or on outcroppings. Exact coordinates would be left to the decisions of their new allies, but would be relayed to the Imperial command involved. These tailored their ground defenses accordingly. Garrison bases also possessed air recyclers and advanced environment and filter systems allowing them to be deployed almost anywhere, from hostile worlds to asteroids, which would be a significant boon to the small collection of Mandalorian might collected here. Once communication was established, Major General Bann Dul would confirm the patronage of the Emperor to the House of Solus as a direct message that any and all who operated under the strength of his banner, would be given the tools to flourish and thrive in any situation known to man. Ships, personnel, technology, food and the means to harvest it from deadest of rocks was in abundance amongst these vessels. The additional means to protect their standing was also contributed in the form of weapons and security detailing from powerful creatures to a small armada to keep from piracy. All of these provisions and more would be carefully meted out under the stratagem of the Spheres put in place, and the rising of old trade routes to be implemented. The command of such things would fall to House Solus, and the teams deployed here would answer to them alone and their Emperor-King. To misuse such providence would see swift retribution, but to manage such gifts and use them to build a more dominant Empire was the key to success. Personnel Commanded by Major General Bann Dul, of the Mandalorian Ash Legions. 300 Command personnel 500 Support/services personnel 200 Technical personnel 200 Science personnel 100 Medical personnel 100 Gunners/weapons technicians 80 Walker technicians 70 Trade mission/diplomatic personnel 60 Ground crew technicians 25 Controllers 25 Sensor technicians 10 Speeder bike technicians 50 Imperial Intelligence officers. Combat Complement 50 Walker crews 40 TIE fighter pilots 800 Stormtroopers 200 Perimeter support troops 150 Base security/detention troops 40 Scout troopers Vehicle Complement 30 TIE/LN starfighters and 5 TIE bombers /36-40 TIE fighters (three squadrons) 10 AT-ATs 10 AT-STs 50-100 speeder bikes and/or landspeeders 100 Miscellaneous vehicles (construction, cargo, maintenance, etc.) (Numbers and items can be skewed/adjusted/traded for other things if necessary.)

Visitation The colors of the world stretched backwards, peeling away with a swallowing haste from any and everything until the landscape was covered in shifting black and grey. Rolling distortions of natural pigmentation and sound shuddered away as the reality of the tower transformed eerily into a monochromatic vortex of quicksand. All suggestions of life and hope drained from around the Emperor as he remained suspended just a few feet from the paving stone below. Through his mind's eye, he was there weathering the storm. Anyone watching him in physical form however, would simply see a man floating above the floors, diametrically absorbed in meditation. Deep reflection was his immersion. As his spiritual form reached into the horrid abyss, the madness of his mind distracted him from such a beautifully rare metamorphosis. Eyes closed, he retraced a long forgotten childhood rooted in solitude, a wide berth of contract killings to sheath him from the cold winters, and the emotional traumas that always pretended to fall like rain from his impenetrable skin. A short journey through his mysterious past. The ecosystem of a creature such as he, was mired in a misery that would years later evolve into an understanding of what was before him, and the rules that were laid bare for living a life worth something. Had the jungles of Anzat numbed him to the empathy that most held onto as a part of their humanity, or was the son of a once great man born unhinged. Exodus opened his eyes for the first time, searching for the answers to his thoughts in the darkness, eyes straining to measure out anything familiar. "That was quick," just as the words left his mouth, he understood something was off. He had summoned Nyrys, but crawling from the newly divided space in the wall where the sun once shone, was nothing like he had remembered in her. Blinking deeply, the Emperor attempted to separate himself from the realm of the spirit to restore a divine sense of clarity, it did not come. "Rehhhhleeeeeeeeassssssssss." The strange sound came out crude and carried with it a desperate and agonizing tune. "RELEASE ME!" The voice shook the room, echoing loud enough to provoke a flight response in any who could hear it. Grueling, angry, demanding as if it were a thing long-awaited for. Exodus smiled sadistically, nearly at odds with himself for why the sudden rush of adrenaline excited him so. It crawled closer, the Emperor now making out the small frame of the creature. A fragile frame, accentuated by off-putting features, dragging itself forward by the strength of her arms. Two sharp horns that were molded as an extension of her chin, hardened white bone jerking uncomfortably from the hard points of it's body, eyes as red as magma. "If I must." The King reached for his blade, fingers fiddling with the deep rivets in the hilt. Slowly, he retrieved the steel from it’s talismanic sleeve, dragging the metal nostalgically against the treated hide. The sound of it was always music to his ears. Dangerously however, he noticed as he pulled the ancient warblade from it's scabbard, ectoplasmic wisps of white began to rise from the floor. More than a handful immediately, and at an alarming rate, wraiths drew up from the world beneath. Angular, rawboned faces with pale and punctured skin. They were pulling themselves up from a hell that the assassin had sent them to weigh out the rest of their miserable lives. The Dark Lord planted himself into stance, preparing to dance with the dead. Ominous white noise began to fill the atmosphere, a melodic backdrop as the whimpering of spirits played duets with the echoing hall. Exodus counted seven and rising, while the small creature continued to close distance, revealing a poorly stitched mouth and a bridged nose with no nostrils. For the quickest of moments, he caught her tongue slide from her imprisoned lips, and extend with incredible volume. "I have seen worst than what you present me, Demon," Exodus denounced arrogantly, now hearing footsteps behind him that were never there before. Laughing filled his ears as if one blew breath into them suddenly, feeling the air inside each of them. The Emperor spun cuttingly to face his challenge, blinking against the poor contrast of neutrals, only to find himself staring at the entrance to his chambers. Alone, color returning to his vision, and still poised in levitation above the floors. An Anzati lacked biorhythm, but his chest plumed with adrenaline as reality returned in a rushing tide. Lady Nyrys entered slow. Small frame, skin reddened but nothing like the creature he had just seen. Ailbasí had changed since last he saw her, but he knew who it was that had just entered. Exodus raised a forearm to brush the sweat from his head, exhaling a long-winded sigh, blade still sheathed tightly somehow. "You'll have to excuse me. It has been a long day. How have you kept, my champion?"

N Y R Y S Tower of Mirrors Patrons of Iziz swarmed the halls in droves throughout the day, stirring conversations rooted in schemes of coin and bureaucratic jousting. Appointed noblemen and noblewoman of the aristocratic congregation handled all affairs as swiftly as their tongues were taught, easing the administrative burden pinned upon the higher echelons of the Sith Empire. High profiles of domestic military bulwarked the social spaces from which the guests traded in conversation, keeping every citizen and non-citizen barred from the seated position of the bipartite Emperor-King. This was common practice, for the crowds of the ordinary to behold absolute power with their eyes alone, and to understand the extreme level of threat that would forever exist in their worlds. Ignorance was what their herds were made of, shameless sniveling and complacency, Exodus could read their thoughts by the very proximity. Their fear, their virtuous spectacles, and their presences reeked of desperation. In them however, stood but a few lions that staked their claim and moved of their own accord. Such individuals were watched by the silent collective of black robed Sith that also lined the interior of the halls, cataloguing any who held promise, in order to vet them for a far more serious commitment later. The halls would eventually empty themselves as loud sirens indicative of war and preparation wailed throughout the coming of sundown. Imperial Guardsmen wasted no time bringing an end to the audiences and clearing the tower of yet another stretched-out communal. The mighty walls to the rear of the throne began to pull apart slow somehow, hardened slab majestically separating, allowing the falling rays of the star above to pour into the chambers. Bittersweet amber-light burned through the passages, revealing how stark this place truly was. Exodus had no sooner moved from the seat of Onderonion rule and ascended the small flight of stairs to gaze out at the panoramic flush of jungle that surrounded the brilliant tower. All-black plainclothes adorned the Imperial Power, long sweeping robes across a shale bedrock. Sitting cross-legged, the body of the King began to lift from the ground as he entered into a deep meditation. It was easy to say that he had become obsessive now, a dream-state system of reflection that allowed him to travel to and from the Shadows. He called out from there redoubled in voice, summoning her name as the sound of it traveled through the cracks of reality, "Ailbasí Zirtani, do you keep from me?"

Pact The old covenants between the Sith and the Mandalorians were never considered a simple sanction between two powers, in any age or era. Such a union always became an embodiment of ferocious living beings, uniquely welded from two distinct worlds, producing a class of warrior unlike any other in even the farthest depths of the stars beyond. Of course, there were already pockets of Mandalorian clans that had sworn their lot in with the mighty Sith Empire, but they were a scattered bunch; desperate splinters from a broken crusade, or mercenaries enfranchised from the political prowess of Lady Nyrys herself. Tros Ardell, whether he understood this or not, was handed the keys to a lifetime of prestige and exaltation for the women and men of his clans and of his House. The commitment he would foster with not only the Sith, but more importantly the King of the Sith, was where the threads of this relationship would either prosper or burn whole. "You are wise, Master Ardell of House Solus. And for this, you have my blade wherever the feet of your people march." Exodus ran his fingers across the end of the arm-rest, imprinting a sequence of commands. Without a moment of latency, a three-dimensional holoprojection of the Onderonian skyline emerged from the ceiling of the exquisite hall. Tremendous warships flushed the entire panorama and stretched for many miles, blotting out the sheathing of clouds or the brilliant shining sun. Eerie and colorless husks of shadows eclipsed the barricaded cities of Onderon, smothering the world with the brutalistic designs and color patterns of Star Destroyers, Dreadnoughts, and enormous carriers swarming with Imperial TIE-lines. Yawning shapes and sizes of absolute power hummed a deep and groaning wail of hunger as engines burned bright and larger-than-life weapon systems ran through their checks. "To support the rising tide of Clan Solus, carriages of war will be prepared for your choosing. A particular dossier will be delivered to you by my operatives. Choose well, because we ride for battle shortly." Exodus closed his eyes and nodded towards the Mandalorian Commander, dismissing further counsel and cementing the summary of their meeting. He could appreciate the firmness of choice written by the one infamously known as Saberforce, even if by chance it was a fallacy. If the Mandalorian was true to principle, then as they pair exited earshot, the Dark King smiled with the promise of true expansion. "Master Darksong. There are many branches of this Great Sith-Imperial tree, and plenty more to come. See to it that I have the many eyes, and many arms necessary, to preserve them all. One bad infection, one bad root will not be the end of reign. I would have them ripped from the body. Go. See to your daughter, unwind before the ride to vengeance." Another dismissal, with thoughts to consider for a Master of his brood, before yet another had come to visit. This was a young creature of Cathar descent, bowing earnestly before his King. "Well done on your advancement, Lord Camik." Exodus stood, stretched wide, and swept a most gracious bow towards the particular warrior. As unexpected as the salute was, King Exodus sweeping into a royal show of praise was a terrifyingly empowering exhibition from such a vicious hunter as he. The Emperor and Dark King of the Sith looked forward, allowing an image of the new generational breed standing prominently before a powerful relic of the old guard. "You and Lady Telperiën, your mentor, will join us tonight. You will have a chance to exercise your new understanding power very soon, And yet, you will have so much more to learn from the point forward. If you have questions or requests of me, take advantage and ask them before you leave. Otherwise, we will gather tonight and ride towards our enemies. Are we clear, Lord Camik?"

SITH EMPIRE ROUND EIGHT. Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I) Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |0/14| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |32/23| Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]: Focus Fire Assigned PC: NPC (Qaela) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Assigned Callsign: Herløv Kyber-Class Star Destroyer, Herløv |0/10| RETREATED _________________________________________________________________________ Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram]: Juggernaught Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP MC80a Star Cruiser The Prodigious |0/10| DESTROYED Combat Air Patrol Carrier: No Fly Zone |Sergeti| Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Lucrehulk Control Core (LH-1740) Eye of Opulence |0/6| MC30c frigate Tidewalker |3/3| MC30c frigate Blue Horizon |3/3| Thranta-class corvette Dawn Sentry |2/1| Thranta-class corvette Winning Hand |2/1| DESTROYED Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| _________________________________________________________________________ Advanced Warfighter Cadre: Catastrophic Oracle Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Promised Razor: |3/9| Lamia: |3/3| Cassandra: |2/1| Sibyl: |2/1| Egeria: |2/1| Pythia: |2/1| RETREATED Tactical Support Escort: Wayward Serpent DESTROYED Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Temple of Vipers: |1/9| Coiled Hatred: |3/3| Nidhoggr: |1/1| Moin: |2/1| Goin: |2/1| Svafnir: |2/1| Green Precision Strike Carrier: Unforgiving Rebuke Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Myrmidon: |1/8| ________

ALLEGIANT The palace enclosures were quiet, each step as loud as brass atop the marbled parquet. Ethereal ambience sheathed the room in shadows and candlelit flames, burning outlandish herbs commandeered from darker planets abroad. Such searing incenses highlighted indelicate earthy aromas that filled the halls, as if one could taste the wilds of Dxun by breath alone. Temperaments were easily controlled by the atmosphere of any given situation; subliminal mastery of such, whether comprehending or manifesting, was a particular study that Lord Exodus was quite fond of. What he had failed to see within the first on Kuat, he now found in the second and third nominees that came after. Both Dathomiri and Mandalorian were the fiercest of mind and body, and as the two were considered, they exhibited an unannounced gallantry to the hierarchy of things. Refreshingly, a distracting show of self-importance was either non-existent or laid to the side in these instances. An anima of power laid dormant inside the set of two, and Exodus would be the hand that unleashed it. "Master Darksong, your timing is quite impeccable. Let us welcome Master Ardell. Of rich Mandalorian stock, undoubtedly. A creature of much promise," A slowed selections of words played to the conspicuous tone of the Emperor, words as tantalizing as the illusions he weaved. "He looks to build a tribe that would make worlds tremble before their name, the name of which would immortalize them forever. I know the filth in which he comes from, I buried the worst of them beneath Coruscanti rubble. —But, he wishes to become more." Exodus ironed his attention to the Mandalorians that stood before him now. "Master Darksong will comprise a seat on my open council, exercising one of the highest forms of autonomy known to the Empire. You may know nothing of me, I confess. But of anyone, their secrets are never far from reach. I would offer you the same as Master Darksong, if you can earn your weight in gold. Resources, Ships, Territories. All of it. Will Tros Ardell swear service to the King of the Sith, and bring his Mandalorians deliverance?

EMPEROR "One who shows signs of mental aberration is, inevitably, perhaps, but cruelly, shut off from familiar, thoughtless intercourse, partly excommunicated; his isolation is unwittingly proclaimed to him on every countenance by curiosity, indifference, aversion, or pity, and in so far as he is human enough to need free and equal communication and feel the lack of it, he suffers pain and loss of a kind and degree which others can only faintly imagine, and for the most part ignore." I am here. The affirmation rang out as empty words into an open abyss, sunken echoes that faded lingeringly into a dominion of unmitigated shadow. Exodus meditated, cross-legged and alone, with a vicious darkness that stretched as far as the eyes could see and then further yet. His consciousness searched more composedly than last he had entered the Netherworld, for the frequency in which he had visited the land of the dead, began to produce a near-absolute fearlessness of the unknown. This breach between life and death was unlike the physical domain where he conquered and ruled, for the laws in which bound him were drastically different; a formidable center of gravity slowed his body and bones, the force slipped between his fingers as if catching grains of sand, and an endless horde of revenant spirits undoubtedly watched him here, undaunted by any foreign power. This was their home. With unyielding mettle he moved to stand, the King of the Sith pushing himself to his feet, watching each leg root themselves into fast-crawling wisps of black smoke. Muscles drew taut at the level of exertion needed to simply move, venting irritated breath from the nostrils of the Emperor. Whatever terrain this was, it was most certainly alive. A true suspense of yawning nothingness drawn out in every which direction, embracing him, becoming one with him. Ground bloated into watery black, a shimmering surface that was as solid as any substance in the material world. Dark flowing robes of onyx and aureate silk stood out against the dark panorama, bizarrely offering a measure of sight beyond where he stood. There was something there. An Anzati Warlord could pierce the night skies with their natural sight, and one born of the dark would always fare far better than the ordinary. His eyes burned with outstanding intensity as they boiled like running magma, searching out the figure before him. His mind became functioning gears of violence and strategy, as it always did when he was on the hunt. He moved to demand the Dark Will of the Force, but felt nothing. He spit, and then reached for the handle of his blade. “Face me.” _______________ "That will do nothing for you here," the voice crawled out in a low devilish tone as soon as the Mandalorian rested his hand uneasily on the holstered weapon. Waking abruptly from his meditations, Exodus could feel the power return in a flush through his veins. Venomous was the sound of his words, echoing acutely across the dark and empty halls, thrumming through their bodies. Much different than the void. A brooding figure sat with elbows over knees, and his face curiously buried inside the skin of his palms. Polished braziers attached to one side of each of the six marmoreal columns lit up every part of the throne hall and allowed shadows to play and dance where light could not reach. Countless bloodstones unearthed from the toil of Onderon, layered the ceiling and danced in the flickering light. Sculptures and hunted game looked down upon the slate floor of the magnificent hall, yearningly watching the mortals below. All of this played backdrop to the Sovereign Sith, heralded as both Destroyer of life and Savior of his kin. "Mandalorians. Do not insult me, be at ease." Exodus leaned back into the smooth surface of the decor, and ringed the half-filled glass of wine with a single finger, chasing the last vestiges of deep meditation from his psyche. "You wear the colors well, last son of Clan Ardell.. To what ends, would you see your clan rise once more?" No time wasted, the Spider awaited an answer.

SITH EMPIRE ROUND SEVEN. Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I) Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |0/17| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |32/25| Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]: Focus Fire Assigned PC: NPC (Qaela) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Assigned Callsign: Herløv Kyber-Class Star Destroyer, Herløv |0/10| RETREATED _________________________________________________________________________ Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram]: Juggernaught Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP MC80a Star Cruiser The Prodigious |0/10| DESTROYED Combat Air Patrol Carrier: No Fly Zone |Sergeti| Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Lucrehulk Control Core (LH-1740) Eye of Opulence |0/6| MC30c frigate Tidewalker |3/3| MC30c frigate Blue Horizon |3/3| Thranta-class corvette Dawn Sentry |2/1| Thranta-class corvette Winning Hand |2/1| DESTROYED Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| _________________________________________________________________________ Advanced Warfighter Cadre: Catastrophic Oracle Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Promised Razor: |3/9| Lamia: |3/3| Cassandra: |2/1| Sibyl: |2/1| Egeria: |2/1| Pythia: |2/1| RETREATED Tactical Support Escort: Wayward Serpent DESTROYED Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Temple of Vipers: |1/9| Coiled Hatred: |3/3| Nidhoggr: |1/1| Moin: |2/1| Goin: |2/1| Svafnir: |2/1| Green Precision Strike Carrier: Unforgiving Rebuke Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Myrmidon: |11/10| ________ The Xhendora-Class Dreadnought hovered over the esteemed shipyard installation, its forward batteries raining beautiful death on the Rebel formations. On the tactical screen on the flagship's nigh-transparent deflector shields flickered and died. A few more bursts, and the display informed the tactical officer that the warship shield output had seized being operational. "The installation is mostly evacuated of civilian hosts, Captain Zloth'cal'duorii," the officer reported. The Captain of the Goliath nodded briskly. Zloth'cal'duorii was a thin, contentious man with cold virulent eyes, who had been in Imperial service since just after the end of the Onderonion Wars. "Excellent. Inform the boarding parties that they may proceed." Dozens of troop transports had previously launched from the Star Destroyer's hanger carrying specialized Imperial stormtroopers who would assist those that already occupied the defended shipyards, heading at their sluggish but sure pace for the installation. The Captain watched from the forward bridge, monitoring their progress on a tactical readout. The transports had heavy shields, but for the most part, held a direct line to the asset that they still had a loose grip on defending. When the transports reached the station's docking bay, shields dropping as they maneuvered to dock, the stormtroopers would fan out and reinforce the current manifest of largely deployed ground units. One of the Destroyer's numerous TIE squadrons swung around the transports in lazy loops, sensors scanning for any sign of Rebel interference. So far, the backdrop had been relatively clear, save for the bombing runs that chipped away at the stalwart formation of both the Goliath and the Minotaur. Omega Six braced for the jolt as the launch tractors grabbed her TIE and flung the tiny craft away from the hull of the Goliath. Punching the engines to full, she swung about and fell in beside Atom's craft. They formed behind the two TIEs piloted by Howl and Huntress. The old man's voice came over the comm. "Omega Wing, this is Omega Leader. Omega Five and Six, hang back and screen our objectives for any designated attack. Green on proton torpedo deployment, let them fly." "Copy, Omega Leader," Six acknowledged, though she was challenged by the direction personally. "Omega Six, this is Five," said 'Bucktoe', sounding troublesome as usual. "Did yah see how they peeled back that Nebula-class? Real cowboy shit if you ask me! Are we fixin' ta just sit 'ere and wait for 'em to tag these yellowbellies? These no-good rebel pilots are dropping like flies, they can't fly like us honey!" "Yes, Five, we're going to just sit here," 'Red Fox' said through clenched teeth. "But for crying out loud, Buck, be quiet. This is an open channel." "That's good advice, Buck." Huntress' voice said, level as always. "I suggest you take it." "Copy that, ladies," he said ruefully, watching as the rest of the Wing tore the opposition to shreds, wondering just how long the fleet itself had to hold out for.

Nemesis Grid Sleeper Cells simply cannot chance an opportunity to be out of contact, under any circumstances. Sleepers use a microfine web of transceiver wiring and optical augmentation that contributes to their connectivity to Command on a Nemesis Grid. These units act as a built-in compad for the user and allow for reception and transmission of audio and visual recordings, the latter playing in an inset window in the user's field of vision. If the unit is operating outside of a standard comm grid, it has a transmission that extends exponentially by way of a wide-spread Nemesis relay bounce that is scattered throughout conquered territories. Sleepers can transmit basic visual diagrams and images to each other, as well as optical recordings. The sleeper cells were scattered within every active contingent, despite how thorough any of the autonomous Sith had been within their powerbase. Exodus was there; an ear, a tongue, and a dagger in the shadows to reveal itself whenever he desired. These cells moved with alacrity now, delivering what was instructed to assigned operatives all throughout the heirarchy of the Sith Empire. Amidst the thousands, Tros, Lady Zedrin, and Master Qaela were addressed briefly. "Onderon, launching point. Return home effective immediately. Command will instruct upon arrival."

SITH EMPIRE ROUND FIVE. Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I) Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |1/25| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |35/25| Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]: Focus Fire Assigned PC: NPC (Qaela) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Assigned Callsign: Herløv Kyber-Class Star Destroyer, Herløv |0/10| RETREATED _________________________________________________________________________ Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram]: Juggernaught Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP MC80a Star Cruiser The Prodigious |0/10| DESTROYED Combat Air Patrol Carrier: No Fly Zone |Sergeti| Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Lucrehulk Control Core (LH-1740) Eye of Opulence |0/6| MC30c frigate Tidewalker |3/3| MC30c frigate Blue Horizon |3/3| Thranta-class corvette Dawn Sentry |2/1| Thranta-class corvette Winning Hand |2/1| DESTROYED Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| _________________________________________________________________________ Advanced Warfighter Cadre: Catastrophic Oracle Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Promised Razor: |3/9| Lamia: |3/3| Cassandra: |2/1| Sibyl: |2/1| Egeria: |2/1| Pythia: |2/1| RETREATED Tactical Support Escort: Wayward Serpent DESTROYED Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Temple of Vipers: |1/9| Coiled Hatred: |3/3| Nidhoggr: |1/1| Moin: |2/1| Goin: |2/1| Svafnir: |2/1| Green Precision Strike Carrier: Unforgiving Rebuke Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Myrmidon: |21/16| ________ The Imperial Admiral counted the losses methodically, understanding that warships lost on both sides were near evenly matched, despite the defeaning silence that sat within the ships of his allies. There was a suffocating loneliness that stifled the communication systems; just cold and calculated reports of damages and confirmed kills, panoramic displays of high-value targets ramming into one another and detonating in a grand splurge of ordinary life-forms. The Emperor had counted on this, but how could he know before it happened? Did he count on the desperate warmongering of the Rebel contingencies? Or was there greater work afoot? The Admiral shook the thoughts from his mind as another successful bombing run rattled into another enemy Carrier. The manuoevers executed here would be cataloged and praised in bravery whether the Admiral lived to see another day, or burned on the fraying corpse of this Flagship. It would be known that here, the Admiral stood by himself, in the face of his enemies, ensuring that enough time would pass. "The mission will soon be complete."

HIGH ALERT The Sith Capital was an aristocratic sprawling of high architecture and extravagant nobility, separated by vast pockets of tropical overgrowth that spilled over deep canyons heated by geothermal vents. The walled cities of Onderon seethed with an overcrowd of behemoth warships that swallowed the skies every-which way. Large flight patterns of variable TIE formations patrolled just beneath and through the many mechanized walkers, transports and destroyers that suddenly suspended low in the planet’s atmosphere. Fortress world Onderon drew a hive-like energy that buzzed across every ocean, every city, and every burrow filled with war-ready sentient life. Iziz was a marveled jewel run amok with opulent red, black and aureate walkways of Imperial banners. Columns and columns of soldiers marched with intention, unloading themselves from scattered military compounds, and loading themselves onto a bevy of loaders and transports. The efficiency was not dissimilar to the assiduous competence of natural ant colonies, streaming forth in beautiful design. One particular vessel fell from the heavens with fire and finesse, leaning heavy into all thrusters and folding it's long wings upwards in a swift hoist. King Exodus watched the tabulation of data expand in size as they approached in an Upsilon-Class Command Shuttle from his seat behind the pilot, an outlawed weapons broker who had been conscripted from the holding cells of the Helvault. Servitude over confinement was a rich proposition, but his worth was in the value of his force sensitivity, and not the little he amounted to within the black market. A few other Sith accompanied him in the cockpit of the command shuttle, quiet identities wholly undisclosed with an aura of mystery surrounding them all, not a word said between them. Exodus drew the corners of his war-plate from his chest, breathing in deep as instinctive meditation fell over him, enabling an acute detection towards the warrior he had shared an affinity with. A few lightsabers hung on the sides of his belt, and a hooded cloak covered his form with the hood drawn up over his dark mane, simmering broodful eyes glowing from behind the shadowed creases of his cowl. "There they are." The pilot broke the silence in the cabin as the destination loomed in through the viewport, an excited tremor in his voice. Exodus could feel the lunacy radiating off the man, could sense it wasn't due to the maneuver he was about to perform, his confidence in his piloting skill was well enough. No, it was the possibility of blood, a euphoria for battle. "Hold here." Exodus commanded the other Sith, relieving them of their duty to interfere if it came to such. "Pilot, scan the surface for the others, and rally what you can." He continued with authority. “This won’t take long.” Exodus departed the rampart, and descended alone from the vessel.

COURT OF DARKNESS "You speak true, Dathomiri." Exodus replied quicker than even he expected, but sensing the truth in her words was something he could not mistake. "A rarity," that another before him could string the words together almost as well as he, and draw a conclusion similarly to the one she had confessed, or so he thought. She left nothing to the imagination through the lens in which she saw things laid out, she coined roots of a paranoia that perhaps, even he was unaware of. Such clarity and transparency would be a cornerstone to the longevity of a Sith Hierarchy. Exodus weighed the expression of her thoughts, dragging his warblade from the earth and balancing it high above his head, as if words and weapons were one and the same. The windows to his soul held a desperate color of black death as he stared out into the open peacefully, the shapes of his irises becoming less circular than they were sharpened and lined with an oozing volcanic drip. The atmosphere about them had changed, a sweet and subtle change that many could never bookmark in their lifetime, never really knowing what it all meant. Many biological beings resorted to a sensation of fear, but it was simply the presence of the Dark Side. And as Exodus lowered his blade slowly, now walking towards Master Qaela, he placed the visceral edge of his weapon just past her fearless face, hovering the kiss of it beside the soft wall of her neck. Sharpness of such steel could fall gently from where it was raised, and carve down into the small woman from her neck and shoulders, sliding as if cutting through butter, opening her belly wide enough to watch her insides sloppily abandon ship. The point of the weapon instead revealed what it was that had crept down in the far distance. "I brought you something." It was beyond gargantuan, a smattered fusion of crystallized black and thrice-hardened steel with an underbelly of power synchronously pulsing with feverish light. The lining of this monstrosity flaunted organic shells, as if birthed from luxurious stonework. It was alive, and so immersed in the call of the Dark Side that only the presence of the Dark King could distract from such. And still, the beast whined and moaned; singing a somber cry filled with pain and destruction, an unholy choir that reached out to the heart-strings of those that could hear it. The ISD-II variant Kyber-Class Herløv, a mighty herald of Master Qaela had shuddered into the clouds of Kuat and buckled the atmosphere with it's raw power. "Did not let this little toy fall to our enemies, with you is where it belongs, enjoy. They return gloriously from the defense of Fondor, they have fulfilled what was asked of them, providing me with time. Get reacquainted, but do it quickly. We have a place that needs burning. I'll send for you." Exodus retracted the blade and sheathed it's brilliance. He nodded to the Dathomiri and stepped off from the compound, grabbing at her shoulder proudly with his free hand, subliminally hinting at the differences between his hand and his blade, and the choices she had made within the moments spent. She walked a thin rope, and would fall as foe or cross as comrade in the war to come. He had his answer on who she was, for now, and so he made way for his chariot.

N I N E The Emperor found the evenness of her tone, her breath neither hurried nor holier than need be. Exact was how the woman held her demeanor, nothing more than what she needed to show, except the glaring lack of self-importance she held onto. It was coincidence then that the man she had chosen as an apprentice in her time before death, held behaviour that had shown the complete opposite in just body language alone. A Human typically overwrought with pride compared to a domesticated Dathomiri with as much humility as a Ziostian monk. The connection would have made him smile, but a simple question lingering in his mind removed humor altogether; which of the two would attempt the knife in his back? As she revealed herself through words, the powerful width of the imperious Warlord shifted forward. He stepped closer at a disarmingly slow march, the sound of dirt and stone grinding beneath his boots. Exodus closed his eyes as he moved forward and tasted the wind through his nostrils, brushing coolly across his tongue. He moved forward yet, closing the distance between the woman and himself, even catching the dead gaze of the two stationed Sentinels. "Nor should I?" Interesting was the way the sentence carried a tune of command, as if she would ever dare, but the Emperor couldn't resist hearing the words played aloud once more. He whispered them loud enough for her to hear, and questioned what it truly meant. Anzati held a particular liking towards the aristocratic taste of fine arts, an appetite for the flavor of many manner of things. The brutish organization of many language had been just one that always arrested his attention, perhaps this was simply a language barrier rooted in translations. Basic was nowhere near as expressive as the Anzati tongue, but she would not make the mistake again. Closer now, Exodus was but a half-meter span from where she stood. He stalked where her feet planted, moving with wolfish grace and curiosity. He studied her scent as it drew off of her ignorantly, filling the small space between them. The Emperor leaned forward, nearly brushing the bridge of his nose against her shoulders, lifting just before and against the cascade of her hair. Her body was flush with nutritional saturation, force-fed until her physical maturation improved on the natural decay of her first-form. He could taste the richness of her. Even her hair seemed wet still with the dampness of the underworld, a moisture carried forward between the physical and spiritual worlds. "Lady Darksong," Exodus moved passed her now, approaching the two gargoyle Sentinels that lurched in watchful formation. "...a great many have failed me, and in more ways than you could ever imagine. Yet and still, here we are, atop the food chain. Do you know why that is?" Rhetorically speaking, the King handwaved her from answering. "The useful pieces remain at my side, they adhere to my call." The seers on Arachnakorr had showed him the way, gave him the means to conquer the distant stars, unraveling the darkest mysteries of the Force. The Umbarans kept his burial chambers sacred and sanctified, worshipping him as a God that kept watch from the mountains, drowning him in tribute. Onderonians carried his name as a legend born from the superstition and mysticism in which his journey was carved. The creatures of the known galaxy understood the lure of the assassin, connecting the Sith in such a way that had never been done before. Exodus drew his Sith Sword, listening acutely to the scintillating kiss of metal dragging across metal. The balance of the blade resonated with him as he held the weapon in his hand, turning it over and studying the glyphs etched into its surface. It bled down the alchemical metal with ancient knowledge, cursive text that whispered in a tongue from Chaos itself. "I could care less whether you think you are deserving or not. You are a Master of my Court, and will conduct yourself as one at all times, in victory and in defeat. Hold your head high, for you have gone to lengths that others will not. You brought a measure of value to your name, while others wait for me to hold their hand. I grow weary of my own, I see the envy in their eyes. They are leeches, spoiled by the sanctuary I grant them. I will weed them out, and feed them to my wolves. And I will bring our enemies what they have been dying for. You say you will serve, as they all do. But will your sword become synonymous with mine? I have fetched you from your grave, how far will you follow your King, Lady Darksong? Exodus dragged the tip of his blade against the dirt, smiling.

KEEPER OF KIN There was a surreal iridescence that tinted the full surface of his eyes with fever, shimmering unevenly as if the shallow beat of a bright star splashed against the scales of a sun-bathing dragon. There was something majestic in the way the darkness manifested inside of the Anzati Warlord, an elegance and savagery that danced across his flesh and made bed with his every mannerism. More and more of him offered itself, and more of his sanity swam eagerly with the current of the Dark Side. The longer he waded, the more his mind pruned with a bitter and biting coldness, for his heart had already been long forgotten. Not a single biorhythm echoed from within him, not one recognizable frequency of life hammered through his body. His temperament left neither indication nor trace of emotion to suggest he was nothing more than a grand sculpture, but the atmosphere around him sizzled with a humming of absolute power nonetheless. King Exodus watched indifferently as a master of his court rose from the sunless compound, bearing the housecoat of a commoner of Kuat. A gauntleted hand rose to brush the draping of his long corvus mane from his face, casually clearing his view of the ordinary woman, and then to signal the Sith Master to be at-ease as she bowed respectfully low. "Failure, death, abandonment—” The order in which she felt them, every word stretched just enough to resurrect the feeling. “What do you now feel?”

The subterranean complex nestled into the dead marsh as a laid egg tucked between thinly cracked branches. It was an arid landscape stretched industriously far, with nothing but haggard machines and cutthroat fortifications, carving out an aura of brutalist architecture and military decorum. Activity had remained scarce, and only the dull operational hum of energy churned throughout the expanse. Meticulous surveillance went on for quite some time, revealing the exact moment when her lungs filled slowly with labored breath. Blood and power soaked her insides, tethering her empty shell of a body by eating at the life force of those within her proximity. Her appetite at first was miniscule, but after weeks it had become ravenous, while her consciousness knew nothing of it. Her comatose state persisted while her body fed vampirically. Reports pegged that some nights were worse than others while the Sith Master slept, draining those that tended to her care with a force so heavy that it buckled them at the knees. Details explained this as a sort of physically felt gloom, comparative only in sensation to when the dark council skulked nearby. Handmaidens held surveillance on her in day-and-night cycles, spending every moment washing her bare flesh, nourishing the body, and stabilizing erratic life-pulses that riddled her new form. Each of them were at risk for every minute spent, but a sacrifice of life at the command of their King was the holiest of honors. And now she had awakened. ///// The moment the dried hide of his buckskin boots fell from his lander and dug weight into the parched land, an overshadow the size of a mammoth swelled across the earth. Acrylic black-resin warplates only emphasized the daunting ambience of his arrival, light metal shifting crudely as he marched towards a clearing in front of the compound. An imperious high-collar cloak was fastened by gilded links to his dark breastplate, entirely blood-red as if soaked and dripping by the spill of his enemies. Brisk winds carried the rich fabric, snapping theatrically against the pressure, hailing the fearsome insignia of the Spider high and proud. “Bring her before me.” His voice snarled wolfishly, half heard out loud, and half inside of their minds. A pair of Imperial Sentinels were a scarcity in most worlds, and ones as mountainous as these were only referenced in words of old fable. Colossally they stood, twice the size of any known humanoid. Each Sentinel brandished large vibro-axes, and donned heavy battle armor under ceremonial, reddish-purple cloaks emblazoned with intricate gold patterns at the chest, back, and shoulders. They wore large thick-set helmets that concealed both the head and neck, leaving only their glowing red eyes visible. No parts of their bodies were left uncovered. At the command of their King, the two immediately shifted their statuesque demeanor and moved to secure their objective.

SITH EMPIRE ROUND FIVE. Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I) Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |4/25| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |35/25| Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]: Focus Fire Assigned PC: NPC (Qaela) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Assigned Callsign: Herløv Kyber-Class Star Destroyer, Herløv |0/10| RETREATED _________________________________________________________________________ Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram]: Juggernaught Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP MC80a Star Cruiser The Prodigious |0/10| Combat Air Patrol Carrier: No Fly Zone |Sergeti| Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Lucrehulk Control Core (LH-1740) Eye of Opulence |0/6| MC30c frigate Tidewalker |3/3| MC30c frigate Blue Horizon |3/3| Thranta-class corvette Dawn Sentry |2/1| Thranta-class corvette Winning Hand |2/1| Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| _________________________________________________________________________ Advanced Warfighter Cadre: Catastrophic Oracle Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Promised Razor: |3/9| Lamia: |3/3| Cassandra: |2/1| Sibyl: |2/1| Egeria: |2/1| Pythia: |2/1| RETREATED Tactical Support Escort: Wayward Serpent DESTROYED Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Temple of Vipers: |1/9| Coiled Hatred: |3/3| Nidhoggr: |1/1| Moin: |2/1| Goin: |2/1| Svafnir: |2/1| Green Precision Strike Carrier: Unforgiving Rebuke Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Myrmidon: |25/25|

Heavy black plastoid-armor covered the martial formations that surrounded the Dark Emperor. By the very inch, their assembly was kept tight and moved with supreme military discipline. Exodus marched forward, aware of the wide perimeter that they fashioned for his advancement through the passageways, with a keen eye that curiously watched over each one of them. He would never be comfortable in the hands of even his most faithful, for the life of an assassin disallowed him the comfort of idle ignorance. The hilt of his blade played against his palm and for but a moment, felt far more familiar than his own flesh, instead of the cold bite of alchemical steel. His blade was ready, the impressions of bloodlust itching at the recesses of his mind. The instant he decided to draw steel, aligning the broad blade with the stretch of his forearm, there would be nothing that could stop him from instantaneously severing at least two of their heads cleanly from the neckbone. The Anzati held no drum of the heart, but an invigorating adrenaline would carry through him nonetheless, igniting a rageful lunge for the third, tearing through their chest cavity with blunt force. Sheer momentum could only carry him forward now, surging through the formation as a wind-churned demon, fangs jerking hungrily for the fourth, biting into— “Commander?” One-Eyed Crow dared. Exodus faltered slightly in his last step, revealing an unusual lapse in balance, catching the attention of those sworn to screen the measures surrounding the Crown. The present came back to the King, just before his eyes drowned in blood that wasn’t truly there. These reveries were becoming more pervasive, a feverish famine that spent unexpected moments to try and convince him that there were enemies everywhere. Whispers of insurgency, dark demons that traded secrets just outside of earshot, the same shadows he visited when he opened his mind’s eye. Reality was quickly blurring, and something had to be done. “These warships are nauseating,” Exodus feigned a half-lie. The armada was filled with enormous impounds, destroyers aplenty, but suffocating for a creature of the wild. That was not the cause of his misstep, but the distaste for these vessels quickly grew. The sovereign formation cut through the Sith Resurgent more quickly now, gathering aboard their own dispatch, separating once-and-for-all from the bruised Destroyer. The Eye of Ida made descent towards the surface of Kuat. ______ [Undisclosed Location] Rows and rows of hypothermic tanks were scattered through this hatchery, submissive to the near-extreme temperatures that cooled the operating systems of this subterranean complex. The architectural design of this hatchery was wholly mimicked from the imaginative concepts that the Kaminoans were known for. The cloning chamber was interspersed with cylinders that housed developing reproductions of particular dignitaries. The genetic material from the host was originally extracted and amended to the desired parameters, creating artificial embryos to nurture within the compound. These embryos were grown inside glass incubation wombs housed in the cloning chambers. There, the chamber provided the developing embryos with the nutrients that were needed for healthy development in the form of a nutrient bath. The components of this Kuati cloning chamber included the actual cloning chamber, diagnostics, DNA sequencing, energy supply, life support, and the fetal clones housed inside the chamber. A subsect of Nightbrothers had recently been assigned to this location, brushing the frost from the face of a chamber coined to a Master of the Sith Empire. A special commission of metempsychosis had been ordered, an expensive and rather taxing modus operandi, that would steal the life force from a few, in order to exact the soul of one that had been lost. In a few moments, she would be awake once more.

SITH EMPIRE ROUND FOUR. Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I) Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |7/25| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |35/25| Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]: Focus Fire Assigned PC: NPC (Qaela) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Assigned Callsign: Herløv Kyber-Class Star Destroyer, Herløv |0/20| _________________________________________________________________________ Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram]: Juggernaught Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP MC80a Star Cruiser The Prodigious |6/21| Combat Air Patrol Carrier: No Fly Zone |Sergeti| Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Lucrehulk Control Core (LH-1740) Eye of Opulence |0/6| MC30c frigate Tidewalker |3/3| MC30c frigate Blue Horizon |3/3| Thranta-class corvette Dawn Sentry |2/1| Thranta-class corvette Winning Hand |2/1| Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| _________________________________________________________________________ Advanced Warfighter Cadre: Catastrophic Oracle Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Promised Razor: |3/9| Lamia: |3/3| Cassandra: |2/1| Sibyl: |2/1| Egeria: |2/1| Pythia: |2/1| RETREATED Tactical Support Escort: Wayward Serpent DESTROYED Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Temple of Vipers: |1/9| Coiled Hatred: |3/3| Nidhoggr: |1/1| Moin: |2/1| Goin: |2/1| Svafnir: |2/1| Green Precision Strike Carrier: Unforgiving Rebuke Commander: Nyrys Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Myrmidon: |25/25| _________________________________________________________________________ "What we do selfishly, dies with us. What we do for our Empire remains forever." Unflinching composure settled deeply into the crew of The Goliath, watching closely as their allies chose death. The zealotry of the smaller tactical escort supports swarmed protectively across the bulk of the Herløv before imminent danger fell, angling their trajectory to intercept a most impressive barrage triggered by the opposing forces. Their defensive maneuvering spoke volumes to the efficiency required to pilot and crew any vessel within the Sith Empire, abandoning all thought regarding uncertainty in order to obstruct the ruination of their fellow comrades. The magnitude of impact from their broadside slant, incinerated their warships within a near blink-of-the-eye. The colliding differences of firepower lurched into the warships as if sinking abstractedly into the metal chassis of each vessel, illuminating with a terrific posture of brilliant light, before bursting completely at the seams. The thermic spray of super-heated metal erupted all at once, completely obliterating all life aboard each and every unit that composed the supports. Zloth'cal'duorii did not bother to swap expressions, the hard dip of his brows furrowed curiously at the sight of the larger enemy carrier instead, watching it disintegrate from the inside-out. How did it feel? Many lives were spent in exchange for the price of hoarded munitions. He could hear the screams of burning men and women, or of hopeless and frantic wailings of prayer before the swallow of space sucked their lungs dry. He could hear it all inside of his mind, imagining them more than really ever hearing anything inside the morbid command of the Flagship. What were they thinking, as their masters chauffeured them off to their cold and empty graves. Onderon, Corellia, Kuat, Fonder. He would never understand, this simple post removed him from the raw experience of pain, panic and loss. Zloth'cal'duorii reached for the high-collar uniformly braided around his neck, and loosened the material before it chaffed further at his blue skin. He was sweating more than he had realized, as his eyes darted across the holo-display, registering the hull integrities of the gathered armada. He was actually enjoying himself, but he could not admit that he felt this way; a tickle of excitement churning just beneath the assortment of imperial medals that scaled his white tunic.