Exodus

TIME CHAMBER "Rain?" The alluring sound of distant rainfall reflected all around him. “..But I feel nothing?” Not a single drop of it kissed his hardened flesh, only the soft trickle hissing by his ears ever-elusively. Feral eyes eased the saturation of the extreme pitch black that surrounded him, straining to find a sense of familiarity. There was nothing. "Darkfire. I am here again, aren't I?" The thought alone amused his curiosity, for wherever here was, could not be measured by time or language. Spanning the last several months, the Dark King had continued to set foot here, gradually digesting the ecology of nothingness. There was no end, and by way of contrast, no such beginning within plain sight. What was it that Exodus had uncovered? This unreality was absolute; so entirely empty of light, yet heavier with an essence that existed all around him. This was not just a place absent of luminescence, but rather one swallowed whole by a true and living darkness. Motioning forward, his feet drew across what felt like shallow waters treading stone, invisibly soft against the bottoms of his naked feet. Leaning over, Exodus cupped his hands and drew for the cool liquid beneath his feet; nothing filled them. The King remained, kneeling, searching loosely with his hands to feel out what it was that was beneath him. Was this stone? He pressed an index into it, scratching the surface with the sharpness of his nail. At first, it felt as if it were solid steel, but as he lifted his hand from the floor, a sudden resistance came with it. A little more than feather-like in mass, a noticeable exchange in burden ratio occurred as something rose when his hand did. The soft pressure swept across his forearm, no more than a breeze that danced along the tiny hairs raised from his skin. Smell revealed nothing, and the sound of rain only strengthened as he listened for it. Exodus reached over with his off-hand, noticing the texture of sticky film that tangled onto his forearm. "These are—" his whisper repeated itself three times, never finding a wall or space to bounce from strangely. "..Shadows," said another voice. ______ Exodus woke viciously. Eyes wide and colorless, roaring with awareness inside of the cylindrical tank. Blaring vital readings signaled caution; heated liquefied substances procured to redress the powerful state of the assassin flushed just as quickly as the adrenaline inside of his body peaked above comprehension. The invasive breathing apparatus lurched from deep within his chest and spit against the glass, hammering the intransigent glass chamber. Coughing up the excess, his senses quickly sharpened, taking moments for him to clear his distortion. Raw power smoldered beneath his satiated skin, crawling off of him in nebulous wisps of smoke. His breathing was heightened to a primal capacity, heaving impassioned zephyrs against the full-windowpane. A loud hissing commanded the sound in the room now, tempering the release of temperature and electric vigor originating from the restorative container that housed the Great King. The hatch unhinged and cracked open, releasing Exodus as a beast in perfect form. He stepped forward, absorbing the galaxy with a single deep breath, welcoming the klaxons of war laid before his feet with a devilish smile.

PREFACE "Prophecy" jin' snamsi, dark weaver Even with all of the intensive study that has gone into understanding force alteration (illusion), its secrets remain a mystery to even the most experienced of practitioners. Considered one of the most difficult schools of the force, it is with uncertainty where masters of illusion draw their complete power or where its potential ends - it is extremely draining and there are few that can utilize their powers regularly. It is a sort of mental magic, allowing the user to manipulate the immediate area around them with their mind through mental force, and creating from imagination, a world that is theirs to control. With further experience, one can project or force thoughts or memories on others. By this, Illusion is one of the most prominent schools in the alteration class, often undermined by the willpower of another. It is a variant to the force-natural school of alteration in that it seeks to change the world around the practitioner so that existent physical truths no longer hold, but while the force user generally hopes to alter that which is bound by the laws of nature, illusion techniques do not. Its difference comes from the fact that while alteration affects the entire world in proximity, force Illusion affects only the caster and the target(s). Illusion spells can change a target's visibility, produce or remove light, produce or remove noise, mentally seduce sentient/non-sentient creatures, induce hatred in it or calm it down, enhance or remove a creature's courage, prevent a creature from seeing or moving, or allow the target to see even in total darkness, and much more. The is surmised as the ability to enforce the caster's will on a target. - (Advanced) Hybridization of Illusion and Sith Sorcery “The nightmarish seeds of his mind have found new pasture.” By amalgam of Illusion and Sith Sorcery, Exodus steepened in his meditations and induced slumbers, all while empowered indicia were carved into his skin. The error of the Grey was that he had given the truest of hunters, even the faintest of scents to a place of power. It was not long before Lord Exodus happened onto a place his mind did not breed, nor could it comprehend. The Netherworld of the Force. His feet carried him forward, and the feeling of them were not lost to delusion. Nevertheless, his eyes had found somewhere; perhaps a place that could not be named or understood by any familiar tongue in the known galaxy. It could be said that the Dark Lord was staring into oblivion itself. Is It He Who Casts the Greatest Shadow? Enemies and allies alike were greatly unaware of his conduct within this void. Allowing the diversions of war play themselves out as they normally did. Heralded as one of the more powerful Sith, his impenetrable willpower became a characteristic that was reflected from the poise on his features, and permitted him extended time within this apparitional place of entropy. And strangely with time, the presence of the Dark Lord and the shadow that his carnal body casted began to evolve the more he walked the halls of Chaos. It would be here that the young Sith King gazed into an infinite abyss and studied, researching the ways of shadows and of darkness and of all the creatures that hid beneath them. In the Netherworld of the Force, the Allfather of the Assassins unearthed the ability to command the shadows, wielding blackness, truly mastering the darkness. This was an understanding that the shadows themselves were not merely an absence of light, but the reflection of possible worlds created by forces in conflict. He knew this to be the principle analogy of the everlasting oceans of darkness versus light that the Grey had revealed to him. DARK WEAVER / UMBRAL MYSTICISM (sith shadow magic; from the realization that shadows are a reflection of forces in conflict and that manipulating a shadow can influence the forces that cast it) “He is capable of wielding oblivion, a place of entropy; void. Something the natural mind cannot comprehend. If there is any ancient horror in the dark worlds of the Sith, it is wielded by the fingertips of his assassins. He wanted power, and he was drawn to the deepest waters to find it.”

Inquisitor Barca peered down the dogged metal of his ghoulish helm, "Destroy them." And so, the dreadful machine of the Sith Imperial Armada poured forward to meet their archenemies in a new theater of war. Sith-Imperial Forward Command Commanded by Exodus Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Augmentation: Axial Weapon Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |20/20| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |20/20| Precision Strike Carrier Group: Fighter Command Commander: Exodus, Inquisitor Barca Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Acclamator II-Class Assault Ship, Typhoon |9/9| EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Basilisk |3/3| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Ambush |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Caldwell |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Kilchreest |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Foxhound |2/1| Sith-Imperial Command Commanded by Nok Morliss Heavy Brawler Escort: Hammer and Anvil Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Bulwark Mark II Black Bracer |20/30| Destroyer Group (Missiles): Focus Fire Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser Moon Beetle |9/9| Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser The Broken Bullet |9/9| Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Veteran, 2XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9| Sith-Imperial Command Commanded by Nyrys Argent Scythe (Railgun Destroyer) Fair Lady of Iziz: 20/20 Veil of Shadows (Light Defensive Escort) Jendra’s Song: 3/3 Atani’s Vigil: 3/3 The Lucky Pair: 3/3 Xuri’s Resolve: 3/3 Alpha: 2/1 Beta: 2/1 Gamma: 2/1 Omicron: 2/1 In Reserve Abyss Triumphant (Interdiction Cadre) Bewitching Lover (Interdictor): 9/9 Lovelorn Wraith: 3/3 Lust: 2/1 Envy: 2/1 Desire: 2/1 Betrayal: 2/1

And hauntingly, An incredible measure of powerful warships belched into the black pavilion of Corellian space. One after another, twisted behemoths of redoubled metal lurched darkly as they pulled from hyper-space. The Goliath was chief in wonderment, glaring across the open stretch of space as a bastion of pure power. The obsidian varnish looked as if it were freshly painted, reflecting the blush of colors that fan like heavy-handed torches from it's engines. The Sith had returned in far greater number than before, imposing an terrifying awakening for the several billion that looked to the heavens, only to see the dark side blotting out their very stars. Deep inside the Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Exodus drifted in slumber within an exquisite cylindrical tank, his wide and powerful body whet with bizarre etchings of black symbols and ancient theorems. It was not entirely bacta that filled this chamber, but a basin blended with outlandish compounds and herbage which filled the Sith King with unnatural vision and a kneading of power. The detached pattern of his breathing was cold, feral even as as he exhaled and the intoxicants bathed his lungs through tubing. Soon, he would awaken to lead slaughter to the treasonous. Sith-Imperial Forward Command Fleet Command (Flagship) High Command: Exodus Augmentation: Axial Weapon Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |20/20| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence Commander: Exodus Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |20/20| Precision Strike Carrier Group: Fighter Command Commander: Exodus Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Acclamator II-Class Assault Ship, Typhoon |9/9| EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Basilisk |3/3| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Ambush |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Caldwell |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Kilchreest |2/1| CR92a Assassin-Class Corvette, Foxhound |2/1|

Flesh and machine moved in around him, his senses knew this innately, but his concentration stoked different flames. Seething energy flushed them forward, swimmingly through the black lightless depths, motioning them through the gaping hole of the laboratory, towards the flurry of targeted spotlights that powered from above. Exodus was of instinctual mind, channeling his energy to overcompensate for the immense pressure, and then lessening the lean to ease into the natural force of the open sea. A wild lotus spread of prefabricated garrisons, high in number and function, unraveled above them. Aquatic strongholds began to root themselves with extreme efficiencies. Reconnaissance vessels of all shapes and sizes scurried the parameters and made their way to intercept the uncanny grouping. Each of them were recovered, some in better shape than others, all with their own paths to carve from here on out. The mystery of the Deep would not be one loosely forgotten however, the research teams here would continue to dig into the monstrosities that the rebellion had let loose on this planet, and discover ways to turn such misfortune into opportunity for the Sith-Imperial Machine. (Okay everyone, quick post, feel free to make your way from here. Sort out where you want to go, and make the best of it. Exodus boards the Goliath and leaves to join a contingent of the Imperial Navy. There will be a sizable force left behind as the occupation is fresh and settling. Coordinate OOCly if need be. Hope to do this again!)

The transmission thundered with static at first, with sounds of chains rattling against steel. Breathing, steepened with a heavy draw, and then a crawling quiet. An eerie silence hung in the atmosphere, empty of life. “..Tizn tsosûti?” His voice was darker now, a tongue so immersed in ancient power that the echo of his words ran like chills down naked skin. “A conqueror views their own actions as experimentation, Darksong. An attempt to ascertain whether they are capable of more. Success and failure are for them, answers above all. Do not confuse your failure with defeat. Simply, what have you learned?” Exodus smiled a carnivorous one, his brilliant Anzati features impossible for the Sith Master to see. “For a few vessels, we have taken much more. The shipyards, and the planet of Mon Cal now belongs to the Sith, dearest Darksong. Relieve Ornkala of command. An example of him will expel the leniency that his reign has inflicted. You will be explicitly responsible for this, and the warden installed thereafter. I will see you at Corellia, ..Will you finish what you started?” ---The heavily encrypted transmission suddenly terminated.

ASSIMILATION IM-A-761 Oceanic Garrisons Aquatic Assault Stormtroopers AT-AT Swimmers TIE Fighter Boats Aquadon CAVa 400s Aquadon Combat Aquaspeeders Mon Calamari Shipyards Mon Calamari Submersibles Mon Calamari Subworks Terrorism, plague and a violent colossus of a creature drunk on malevolence; What were the Jedi doing here? The expeditionary forces of the Sith Empire were an immovable justice of iron-will, and without them, this world would succumb to disaster. It would seem that the rebellion and the Jedi themselves worked to release blight against these people, while the terrorism of Morjanssik opened up freely in the streets. Darkhand had traced them beneath the rat-holes, grinding the subversive scheme to a halt. The Sith Empire would take this world into it's deep protection.. But that would come at a price for those that sheltered the seditious. They came from almost every inhabited planet drafted to the claim of the Sith Empire. Hundreds of civilized and uncivilized systems had sent their sons and daughters to the trenches of Imperial Naval Boot Camps, where these soon-to-be warriors were set aside for specialized training in the Naval Gunnery Service. Once they graduated their terms with exceptional performance, they were given their uniforms and their parameters with the Sith-Imperial machine. Now they found themselves at their battle stations staring at monitors that unscrambled the hostile water world below. Most of them had been at their stations for hours, whether it was a power feed and modulation control, targeting and acquisition, firing control, or even fuel level monitoring, every Imperial knew their job and was ready to perform their duty at peak efficiency. Then the order came. "Prepare for bombardment." Thousands of safety measures were removed and charging throttles switched to a more lethal charge, the high explosive-low penetration setting of the heavy turbolasers. If necessary, they would wipe these floating cities off the face of the planet below, but still leave it ripe for conquest. Each warship dipped their bow so that every weapon could be brought to bear, like hounds showing their teeth for the world to see. Primary targets were squarely lined up in the sights of the main batteries of the fleet, while secondary targets were secured by rallying Sith-Imperial intelligence. The Xhendora-Class Dreadnought Goliath opened fire, rippling across the atmosphere and punching through the radical regime as easily as wet paper. This resistance was the machinations of the Rebels, a dangerous one that was opening them up to a horror beneath the sea, and their insolence would need to be evaporated from this world. Shielded heavy turbolasers erupted over the regressing Morjanssik. Within seconds, spread out across the planet, nine Imperial I-class star destroyers and a bevy of Kuati destroyers fixed fired upon twenty different target acquisitions across the largest threats on Mon Calamari. Clusters of twin-barreled turbolasers instantly punched holes in the ozone and evaporated cloud cover over their intended targets, before the vessels themselves sunk lower to cast shade across the rabid planet. Venator-Class Star Destroyers made an appearance as well, trickling in behind predetermined formations. Veterans from past wars spread their confidence as heavy weaponry surrounded the target cities that had been selected as Target Dawn and Target Dusk. More than fourteen warships aimed to cut off all access in and out of the target zones. Spread out across the planet, numerous Acclamator-Class Assault Ships floated the great seas and sharpened their turbolasers towards ground and navy bases within proximity, and opened fire wherever necessary for a full minute after the Goliath began his bombardment on the plagued Morjanssik. Alternatively, the Inquisition kept briefed on the position of Darkhand and their Emperor-King, using their new strategic alignment to send for them with impressive haste and machines. At lower orbit the fleet's light cruisers targeted the deep bunkers and submerged aquatic vehicles of the Mon Calamari defense forces. IM-A-761 Oceanic Garrisons unloaded and outstretched like lotuses across the waters, buoyancy attributed to the powerful repulsorlifts embedded deep into the individual garrisons. Project Assimilation was a simple, and thorough integration of the Sith Machine, endorsed heavily by the recently restored Inquisition. Full seizure of the shipyards, and the subworks were heavy-handed and immediate, breeding unbridled access to the unique resources of the planet. Aquatic Assault Stormtroopers were mobilized in the same month that subject Morliss was instructed to conduct reconnaissance and unearth the activities of a planet rooted in opposition. Nok had done more than he had realized, and as a result, these specialized troopers moved to dominate the marines. The artillerymen aboard the slew of star destroyers and the escort frigates sited their weapons on the thousands of naval vessels that had reacted to their presence on this world with immediate aggression. They were informed of their treason, and Sith Intelligence had ordered that particular attention be given to the enemy vessels that championed this anarchist movement. Ground squadrons were the first to fall in an iron rain, but there were others that held themselves in reserve for special duties, on high alert for specific instruction. Those orders came quickly enough from the pipeline, ordering them into action against several secondary cities below, committing a loaded brunt of auxiliary force to take key command points of the planet. Green or red hued plasma and heavy laser blasts seared through the upper atmosphere before smashing into their targets a millionth of a second later. Not a single Imperial in the fleet questioned how many were disintegrated and murdered with each firing of their weapons, for war had let loose again in the galaxy. News of the Kuat battle had reached the forces, and the hate for it spread like wildfire to the ears. Some thought of their own families and friends positioned elsewhere and how they were protecting them. Others remembered the dead at Onderon and Dark Sun Station and felt sheer retribution whenever they pulled their firing lanyards. Most remembered their service to the Empire and knew that any threat to their supremacy had to be eliminated. All remembered their duty to the Emperor King. And for their strength, Lord Exodus would remunerate them. Unbelievable seismic power hummed beneath the feet of the King, spreading faster than the old creature could fall. Those that closed in on his positioned would feel a pressure comparable to stalwart winds pressing against their bodies, while a mounting heat brushed into the shells of their regalia. A gravitational energy began to separate the rising waters around them with tectonic strength, carving a seething spherical force completely around all those wise enough to heed the call. There was such an intensity in the atmosphere, that the broken infrastructure of the laboratory began to wither and melt into dust. From the rear, waters unleashed and threatened to sweep them from their feet, while an invincible surge of ocean down-surged from where the monster had been forcibly released. There was a hiccup, as if a momentary lapse in time allowed realization to settle into those that were near, a merciful premonition to those gifted enough to feel it. Then the flood collided with sheer violence, and the Dark King roared with absolute strain. The wild repulsive sphere was more aggression than preservation, struggling profusely against the tension of mother nature, biting back so that she knew who it was that she now faced. The sphere etched itself cleanly around those nearby (all are free to include themselves if you move within range), burning with a scorching hiss. It was if an explosive repulse was crudely contained against the elements. His body rattled with an awakening of rooted impulse, super-heating his blood and sweat beneath his pitch-black armored plates. The stress of the ocean was so dense that the color had drained from his eyes without his license, igniting with a brilliance of power as a near-unstoppable force met with an indomitable one. If the Dark King could hold out, the encroachment of the ocean would settle out within these confines as it became fully submerged, and then they could dash hundreds of feet to the surface once more.

Few were aware of how the biting cold slowly transitioned into a crude warmth from the spilling death and the gathering of masses, a peculiarity that the assassin could sense. These arctic waters now ran septic with blood and blackest ink, defiling the very nature of this abandoned laboratory. The armor of the Dark King was not exempt from this; boiling drool beaded the canine lockjaw of his mask, running slick down his wyrmsteel-covered neckline and forearms, igniting the spider insignia carved into his chest-plate with an enriched oily tincture. Exodus heaved his respires purposefully, dialing down the revelry of his recent rampage, expertly controlling his breathing as the enemy seemed to recede and withdraw into the void. His endurance was beyond comprehension so accordingly, the phenomenal stir of force inside of him quickly calmed to a quiet. “At last you have come, heralded by my call. So quickly do slaves forget their place, existing but to do the will of their masters. When the master is away, those foolish servants think they are free. Freedom is an illusion. For on the day of the master’s return, will they be punished tenfold for their sins. Twenty for they that sought to lock the master from that which was his own.” ”Come to me my children! Come!” ".. This creature proclaims master-hood, but then is it confined by the conviction of the apprentice?" For every word that the creature spoke, it became infinitely more predictable in it's nature. There was a grating animosity within the undertones of the supposed cephalopod, a vengeance that stimulated the aggression that the brute organism utilized. Brooding over the particulars lasted little time, as a coughing belch blew a strange wind of rot down the gouge. Exodus slipped his weight low and shrunk into the washbasin of water and muck below. Something was awry, more than what was obvious. Beneath the surface, the assassin used his protracted jurisdiction of the force to map out the rest of this fever ward. Tracing the life forces of the involved congregation, Exodus began to summon an eldritch fount of power only known to the ancestors of the Sith.

Their screams, powerfully acute with fear Was it the enthusiasm of an impending dread, Or the horrifying nature of their devouring, the way their armor caved beneath the crunch of crooked teeth? It was as if anarchy reached out with ghastly arms, grinning widely from the black veil. The creature thrashed in violence, and everywhere at once, aggressively unfocused to the numbers that contested it. Numbered forces mattered little when a sudden lack of structure paralyzed them where they stood. Lines of communication rotted in disorderly fashion as horror poured through transmission links, a crunching and screaming that was deafening to the audience. This was still war. "Execution above all else. Pull your pins, and quit your squealing. Die with dignity." His voice was impartial yet commanding over the comm-link, but the modulator inside of his fanged battle-mask amplified his every word, demanding that the eldritch sound of the Spider controlled the radio-waves with a true challenge. Exodus levied a defiance against the rules of physics as he carved with incredible speed, through the feelers of the beast. Thigh-high oceanic submergence did little to stop the master of movement from leaping into action, slashing loose whoever he could in order to reinforce the ranks. Scissoring through low-visibility atmosphere like a maddened butterfly, a powerful blade of furious-red continued to loosen Darkhand from the jaws of death. It was the Way of the Hawk-Bat that found purchase while full-figured spears of flesh aimed themselves towards the Dark King in retaliation. This reprieve would lessen the burden on those that shared the battlefield, and soon explosions from inside the belly of the beast would leave a reckoning if discipline favored the Captain's Company. But, this could not last forever. "Formations on my position." These words, he spoke aloud. The Inquisition was correct about the Neimoidian, and he had survived after all. Delta too, was invaluable to the machine, and now he sourly scavenged for his unit. These two represented note-worthy promise within the structure of the Sith Empire, with no better time than now to shine against the creatures of the deep. In conjunction with the other two unfamiliar elements, the opportunity to uncover the secrets of this lair, was ripe before their very eyes. The challenge of the hunt was here at last.

CAIA (Covert Agency of Internal Affairs) (Credit: Darth Nyrys) CAIA is a department of the Sith Empire that oversees propaganda, political education, internal espionage, and covert interior political operations within the borders of the Sith Empire. The majority of CAIA field agents bear the title of Peacekeeper, effectively acting as authoritarian police officers under the auspices of the Pyramid of Laws and Justice (PLJ). While in uniform, Peacekeepers (PKs) wear white masks of faces with neutral expressions and built in vocal modifiers, symbolic of the PKs as agents of a system that cannot be swayed by emotion or mercy. The average citizen is not aware of the existence of CAIA as an umbrella organization that covers all of these aspects of society. In fact, most citizens do not know that the Sith holo-networks are in fact state controlled entities, or that the pyramid of laws and justice (PLJ) influences so many day to day elements of their lives. The majority of CAIA recruits come from what the PLJ refers to as first tier loyalty planets, and no recruit is ever deployed to their own home planet. There were discussions of reviving the Genesis Project to create an entirely clone populated PK force, but the majority of the original templates were lost in the massacre of Kamino, and attempts to recreate them have been lacking. The PLJ is instead now investigating a suite of reprogramming machines and techniques code-named Project Eclipse. Testing has shown potential in seeding recruits with alternate backgrounds and inducing a transition event over a period of months to replace the original identity. If successful, recruitment will increase exponentially through conscription efforts. While the project Genesis templates for police recruits were lost, one set of the preserved templates that CAIA uses extensively is for educators. Rebel recruiters are known to target citizens in this age bracket as they are particularly vulnerable to propaganda involving opposing authority at this stage in their lives. A significant number of schools have CAIA operatives posing as teachers and counselors to root out and eliminate rebel influences and the threat of dangerous ideologies. CAIA operatives will also groom certain students for recruitment by government, military, and research organizations. CAIA controlled media outlets are carefully managed to effectively reach multiple bands of media consumers, with “divergent” media using planned loss strategies to increase credibility on critical information campaigns while sacrificing more obvious propaganda attempts. As such, CAIA has control over a vast range of media outlets ranging from state controlled, “independent”, to even some guerrilla media streams. Sith fixers will often travel with reporters to “prep” interviewees with mental manipulation. While reporters covering state affairs are less investigators and more attractive government mouthpieces, journalists deployed to cover rebel and Jedi incidents are so similar in methods and means to espionage agents that they practically taste like almonds. Given that the enemies of the state have a tendency to brand themselves as moralists, exploiting the resultant tragedy and grief of rebel and Jedi military operations gone awry is a key component in the state’s media strategy. Scandal and stories that highlight deep failings of character are also highly sought after. In fact, many of these journalists are either former Sith spies or training to become Inquisitors. While some citizens might have concerns about imperial agents listening in on private communications, first of all, only guilty people should be bothered by that, and second, there’s far too much information being transmitted for agents to analyze everything, that’s why CAIA uses repurposed AVATAR AIs to review all communications and data feeds. CAIA agents only review post processing data relevant to treasonous activity, so that makes it totally ethical. Units of PKs are overseen by Scrutators, veteran PKs who have the authority to determine just cause for search, seizure, detainment, and execution without a warrant. A citizen’s loyalty rating can heavily influence how much leeway a Scrutator has for non treason allegations, but in matters of loyalty, the scrutator has carte blanche to use any means necessary. In accordance with the Citizen Safety Act a Scrutator can act against a citizen that they feel is endangering or infringing upon the rights of other citizens regardless of whether or not there is a law in place against the given activity or behavior. Scrutators report to High Scrutators, who in turn advise but don’t answer to District Overseers. Inquisitors function largely outside of the chain of command, but are able to take control of and utilize CAIA assets as they see fit, along with their own department resources. There are four departments within the Inquisitorium, Civil, Laws, Purity, and Authority. The Civil Department (CD) is the largest by necessity and oversees areas like the loyalty rating system and adherence to it, quality of goods and resources, immigration, disease control, and other basic needs of the state. Initially, communication and reporting were handled by call centers, but after polling revealed overwhelming dissatisfaction with operator performance, the call was made to switch to virtual operators simulated by an AVATAR. Satisfaction levels have improved dramatically since the change, with plaintiffs largely unaware that they are talking to a computer program. The Department of Laws (DoL) is a state run think tank for the research and development of the legal codes that provide order to the Sith Empire. New laws, suggested sentencing, changes to existing laws, all of these and more are the responsibilities of the Department of Laws. Assignment to the DoL is largely a desk job focused on theory and academia, but occasionally DoL inquisitors are attached to inquisitors from other departments to act as observers. Observation duty is sometimes requested as a precedent to transfer, but it’s largely seen as a form of punishment. When other departments assign inquisitors to observe a DoL inquisitor, it most definitely is always a form of punishment. The Department of Purity (DoP) is tasked with rooting out treasonous behavior and thoughts, along with investigating its governmental peers. Only the Sith themselves have any measure of protection from these inquisitors, although apprentices are not yet above the scrutiny of department. The Department of Purity has few allies, but they prefer it that way. Trust is a weakness that they will not abide. The Department of Authority (DoA) inquisitors are sometimes referred to as the rockstars and divas of CAIA, although never to their faces. These inquisitors handle the high profile cases that have the potential to threaten the perception of control and order provided by the state. Crime lords, serial killers, assassins that have killed political figures, these are the sorts of criminals that get the attention of the Department of Authority. DoA inquisitors often utilize military grade assets to eliminate or detain their targets, along with selective use of bounty hunters and other outside talent. While nothing has been substantiated, there are whispers of a covert operations group within CAIA that has the Dark Lord’s blessing to operate completely off the books and outside of the bounds of legality. While all good citizens know that there is no need for such a fanciful concepts as secret vigilante kill squads because Imperial Law is absolute, rumors of these “Righteous Devils” continue to persist.

The screeching whine of over-strained pipelines and the moan of cracked bedrock, would soon convene into an untenable disaster. Strands of the force reached out to warn of this, catching as they fell before the eyes of the legendary assassin. As still as stone he stood, eavesdropping on the cavernous world around him. Darkhand ammunitions cut into the creatures that fell from the falling stream, tearing their flesh from soft bones and spreading lifeblood into the rising waters. Their squealing corpses heaped over one another in awkward mass, dripping large amounts of sickly pigment into the canal. Mounting death served as little more than a sacramental power source, the Dark King smiled as he noticed that this was a bait-trap for what hid below. The channel filled dangerously, but Exodus just watched, cognitively existing in a place that the ordinary would never know. His mind blossomed like an unbridled nexus, quickly understanding the extrapolation of the fools that surrounded him; they would die without him lifting a single blade. And they did, one after the other. Above the passages was no different, Exodus and his forces brutalized all who opposed, crushing their spirits long before their bones. It would seem that none had ever pushed this weapon to the brink, would it be so different deep down below? “We will soon see.” The chain-reaction erupted all at once, and the infrastructure caved under the pressure at last. There was a rippling realization between each individual when the echoes of collapse roared through the tunnel systems, whole foundations snapping like twigs. Then the invincible tide came. The sheer force of it was tremendous, a buckling flood raging towards the channel-dwellers without the slightest hesitation. The natural world was furious, coming to claim what was rightfully theirs. The Dark King turned to finally face the gargantuan rush, in a way, still unimpressed. Like dominos, the others were viciously swept from their feet, some as soon-to-be corpses that flung passed where he stood. Exodus raised both arms in a brace, spreading his fingers apart at the hands as if to catch the hastening torrent head-on. Just half-a-meter out, the flood tide split down the seams, stemming wide around the body of the Dark King. The divergence was too close, but it kept. Splashing ocean spouted against his black monolithic armor plates, running wild down its brutish carvings. The Anzat was barbaric in his power, monstrous in his hulking calm. The others washed passed him, colliding hard into the cave-in, breaking the staunch column completely free. Trembling power gushed from his body, wrestling with the herculean tension of multiplying motion. He cut an eye to his destination, knowing his challenge lay just ahead, and then he pushed. There was unparalleled artistry in his movement, such a natural fluency that allowed him to inherit the complete rush of the tide and spearhead himself into the falling geyser. The King of the Sith broke from the spring as hard as a buckshot, skidding across the laboratory lower than a Trithan prowler, unleashing his hoarse-red lightsaber in a wicked guard.

BARK'A RADIR BE KAD HA'RANGIR ASH LEGIONS OF KAD HA'RANGIR Chaab va kyr'am par pur be gar bu'nas'r cuyir o'aryihida bal naasad kapr eyaytir bic. Fear not death for the hour of your doom is set and none may escape it. Classifications NPC Sub-Group of the Sith Empire Criminal Commander Arkab Skon (Deceased), TBD Members TBD Headquarters TBD Locations Coruscant The Bark'a Radir (Mando'a; lit. meaning "Ash Legions"), is a criminal pseudo-Mandalorian organization (formally known as the Glorybound), founded by Arkab Skon and comprised of extradited Mandalorian warriors, known to their kinsmen as Dar'manda, which was a term that effectively referred to such individuals as "soulless Mandalorians". Founded during the anarchic Crusader Rebellion against the Galactic Alliance during its calculated dissension by the Sith Empire, the then Glorybound drew fanatical alongside the Mandalorian Crusader war cult, engorging themselves on the the worship and spear-point of Kad Ha'rangir above all other Mandalorian divinities. The candlestick flame of the Mandalorian Crusaders spread their forces too thin, waning just as quickly as they had sparked, as if a sudden wind had caught them unawares. The Glorybound amputated themselves from the ruined Crusaders with renewed autonomy, scattering themselves throughout the jewel of the galaxy instead, and by way of open insurrection. They ran rampant throughout Coruscanti space during the uprising, mounting an unbridled chaos, underhandedly fueled by the power of the dark side and their Leader Skon. They asserted themselves as cut-price mercenaries and ambushed the innocent with incessant marauding, prioritizing indiscriminate and lewd displays of slaughter, electing for disorderly fire-fights in order to best spread their violence. BRIEFINGS "The Sith Empire has arrived in tremendous force, their numbers are many, and the disposition of their aggression is unmanageable. We are unprepared for this, and the Crusaders have spared no support. We burned far too high, and faster than we could have ever imagined. Was this the plan of the Sith? To strike from our blind-spot as we over-indulged on the defenseless like jackals? Like fools we came to feed on the scraps, but the wolves were watching all along. We will not hold out." Emperor-King Exodus and his hordes fell from the skies and swept across the dying jewel, decimating anything that stood in their way. They subjugated major tactical choke-points, deployed in-mass, and conquered the leader of the Glory Bound in open combat. With the fall of Arkab Skon, the Glory Bound became the Bark'a Radir, the Ash Legions of the Sith Empire. ASSETS COMPOSITION

Exodus considered the arctic seawater that now washed upon his taut-leather greaves of black metal, the falling and spilling over unsettled rock, and the thundering crashes of movement above were the signs that these tunnels would soon drown whole. Darkhand Troopers withdrew from their position as the cold irrigation quickly sharpened senses, swallowing the strange milieu of gases that once stifled their air. Some nodded as they passed by, shockingly aware that the explosion was moments from eating into their flesh and bone. Those remaining moulded themselves into a rear-guard as they backpedaled, keeping a decelerated pace to those that lead the charge opposite of where they now stood. Even if the majority knew nothing of this, the Dark Lord stood with them now. His eyes fixated on the collapsed infrastructure, almost as if he was seeing beyond the gathering of stone, watching what the rest could not. "Captain. They have spit on your mercy.. When will you show them your rage?" The voice rumbled with sinister familiarity, dark and convincing, Spoken with a low voice inside the head-space of Delta-73. With arms behind his back, casually poised, the assassin understood how such things would play out. Followers of the Jedi doctrine were marvels of lunacy, they were unsettling creatures of predictable habit. They were abandoning one another, unclear whether they should lash out or surrender in the name of their vaunted peace. The oppression of the Dark Side fell hard as if the sun had suddenly rotted to a crisp, eating away at hope as they watched their world darken. The Blood Prince had shown himself in force, but with merciful hands. A knight of Fear had manifested from the shadows, and the calling of the creature that cried out from the depths of this forgotten place was enough for those of the Light to scatter like flies. If the Captain did not know before, the singularity of his ancient voice was enough to marry the idea that the King of the Sith had come. The six-heeled arachnid crest that overlaid his wyrmsteel breastplate seemed to flare alluringly in that moment, as glow-rods wormed their way passed the colossal man. Then, the Darkhand clutched their weapons and emptied a ruthless barrage into the beasts that squirmed through the rockfall, igniting the tunnel with thrilling flashes of illumination. Exodus reached for his weapon slowly, drawing for metal with a scratching patience, knowing that these aquatic creatures were distractions. A true monster drew near.

SHADOW The black tunnels flickered in snapshot framerates while a madbeast of unhinged speed thundered through the old systems. As fast as his natural body could push, the dark rush of the force urged him beyond that. A sonic press carried the assassin over tremendous chasms between strides, carrying the hunter far beyond the highest paces of an Asharl panther. The deep energy buried here was his beacon, a fascination inside of him fueling his turbulence, for his return had only unearthed the weakest of adversaries thus far. This encounter would not yield the same results. Retired sub-oceanic channel systems like these were sullied to the treads with dirt and muck layering themselves thrice over, and tracking the march of many men through these conditions became a thing of ease when your eyes were one with the darkness. The adrenaline of the hunt elevated his sensory perceptions in every sense, almost tasting the threat of excitable air leaking in abundance, savoring the bountiful life force straddled at the front line. Communications rattled off inside of his half-mask, keeping him apprised as the moments between Darkhand and the objectives intensified. Erroneous blocks of static worsened the deeper he journeyed, thankfully stealing his attention from the worthless rabble that echoed through the wide shaft part-ways. None of that mattered now that he drew dangerously close. The Neimodian apprentice that was sent here had found himself in the unforgiving stomach of destiny, signaling the the imperial machine of a presence far superior to that of simple rebel scum. What was of interest was the crackling archaic voice that had rummaged over the waters of Mon Calamari, the one that spoke with an alien tongue unknown and abstract of forgotten dialect, in a tone that seemed more drowned than coherent. That voice had gone quiet. Silence. The language of chaos rang loudly, bellowing rifles spit forward in an overwhelming tide of power. Over seventy of his own ahead, enormous in gathering, engorged the underpass wastefully. The Dark Lord shoved passed the Darkhand, titanic in the way his strength and speed carved a path through the formation. As he swept through the masses, their tactical visors synchronized that this was a friendly that had joined them, but their shock and awe of the man was not subdued by any stretch. Too late. The only shed of lighting came from the beaming of glow-rods, and while the first non-lethal volley let loose, an amateurish scramble between the two unidentified creatures became reality. The Blood Prince gave them a choice, therein lies his lesson. Exodus crashed forward noticing the glinting metal of a hand-grenade jar unwittingly from the fumbling woman, only seconds to react, the allfather knew this well, he reached out from two-thirds inside of the shootout and heaved a wolfish telekinectic throw with his left. With his right, he simultaneously yanked his arm backwards, pulling against what he had just shoved. The thermal detonator, and three of the servicemen whipped forward with bone-breaking airspeed, and then as if on strings, the three meat-sacks were wrenched backwards, careening into their comrades. Two, one...

SERPENTSCALE STONE Satvaskalez Akmuo ² "Speak softly now And choose your next thoughts Carefully, For the eel of black has called My soul to dance Reckless, unmitigated Abandonment Of mind, body, and soul." A mantled set of armor stylized and reminiscent of ancient Sith armor, with an extremely distinct and technological flair. This consisted of a segmented torso armor shaped like a humanoid rib cage. Ornamental, demon-looking pauldrons covered the shoulders, the armpits and part of the back. The head was protected by a war helmet that transitioned between half-mask and full wear that was jaw-lined with fangs. A protective warskirt of blade-shaped strips was worn around the waist, that fell over hauntingly chiseled greaves. The body-suit was made of black-scaled armorweave and shelled spider silk, with organic wyrmsteel plates that fleshed out the torso, shoulders, arms and greaves. The plates themselves oozed in an inimitable eel-black ink. Emblazoned on the centerpiece was the raised insignia of the Spider, stretched rib-to-rib in a dripping obsidian. Authored by the carvers of the Stormcloaks, the blend of ancient design and tastes of modern technologies commissioned what would be the first model of a medium war-suit. Flexible wyrmsteel plates overlaid an MR-Fluid (magnetorheological) armor layer, incorporating the latest in Umbaran technology. The bodysuit consists of an outer and inner layer made from the aforementioned dipped tri-weave fiber mesh, and sandwiched in between is the MR-fluid based liquid armor system. The visceral MR-fluid hardens in response to impacts, specifically designed to provide superior shock absorption, as well as enabling greater force delivery behind counterattacks. The liquid body armor layer is also more flexible than ceramic or fiber-based alternatives tested in previous designs, allowing for greater maneuverability and faster elimination of multiple targets in quick succession. The left gauntlet possessed retractable vibro-blades, while the right was left out in place of prior equipment. The left gauntlet has embedded sensors that work in conjunction to analyze foreign samples and upload data to remote sites. The inclusion of a holographic screen projector in the left gauntlet also allowed him encrypted communications with familiar intelligence. While this model held an edge in technological nature and offered the wearer their full mobility, it was only moderately effective against munitions. While the wyrmsteel plates maintained their augmented resistances to close quarter combat, in between those plates was where one could find purchase. The alternative Sith Steel and the liquid armor layer was highly effective against impact, but only offered moderate protection from munitions, especially at point blank range.

KILOMONGERONE The Dark Lord lifts his razor-hilt to his lips. He closes his eyes and kisses the sacred metal. Then his eyes open, and the spirit behind them surrenders any inkling of humanity, empty above the slit of his half-mask. When Exodus moves, they begin to die. He skims diagonally across the front rank of the Mon Calamari Forces with such possession of his body that it would seem he was another species entirely, one made of wind and wrath. Quarren blocked his path holding what appeared to be fishing spears, yet knowing them to be far deadlier than what image implied. He sidesteps two of their thrusts and removes the heads of three militiamen, exchanges two parries with a heavy-set mercenary woman, before pulling a second shorter blade from his belt and skewering her stomach, ripping sideways through half her rib-cage. Bodies hit stone with a miserable thump while she stood there helplessly trying to stuff intestines back into her abdomen. She collapses to her knees, gobbling screams from her mouth. The iconic lightsaber spun in his hand several times, deflecting sporadic laser-fire that aimed to bring him down, before heaving the dripping heat of the blade through the mouth responsible for the incessant wailing. The sound of her was unnerving, it distracted him from the dark voice that seemed to bellow through the force nearby. Exodus moved towards it. He continued in demoniac hyper-combat, demonstrating a brutal fluidity across the increasing number of resistances. They were dropping like weeds to a steady mowing. Imperial Legionnaires did their best to keep pace with blade and dance, while team Sentinel and the Dark Troopers entrenched themselves into chokepoints littered across the rural divide. They maintained precision cover-fire to match the march of death, flooding battlefield Intel to and from the SCI. It was easy for the units here to leech supreme confidence when in the presence of their King, even if he said nothing, the language he showed them was battle. It was a surreal invigoration whenever they were in his presence, multiplying their efficiencies across the board with a dangerous hunger. The boon was passive, none of them understanding the power with which they drew on, and how effectively it encompassed their armies when he was with them. This was reflected in the urgency of communications that spread throughout the armies, a flux of vital intelligence that was now mitigated with helpings of static for those below. "Break, break, break! Kilo Monger One. Emergency message for Kilo Monger One. Do you copy? Over." "..Go ahead." "Darkhand has uncovered tertiary objective. Anomalies are especially evident, exacting coordinates now, over." "Copy, already inbound. Over and out." He separated himself from the battle quickly, dexterously clean even as conqueror in the theater of war. He eased into the darkness now, swimming through narrow streets toward the beacon of black that ignorantly reached out through the force. The hunt was the pride and joy of the Anzati people. His boots were coupled with the swiftness of air, while he mind cinched the harrowing voice from the deep, trying to decipher it's meaning. He was near. Surface level would only surrender so much lee-way on his trailing of the tertiary objective, but once he completed his rendezvous with the entry point, he would disappear beneath a checkpoint maintenance drain-cover. It was quieter here, and as the King descended, his fingers curiously ran along the concrete underpass. The waters were soil, ordure and wild excrement. Hunting beneath Maggot's Cantina on Anzat, far below the uninviting slums, was doubly worse than this. Yet, the assassin reached outwards, feeling the loneliness of the cement infrastructure and allowing the echoes of the force to track his foothpath. A binding force sheathed the hide of his gloves and boots; a touch of the Kiin'Dray now carrying his weight above the wastewater. His limbs spread wide, gripping the ungraspable, and then not another sound from him could be heard, vanishing as if he was never there. "BEWARE OF THE SHADOW THAT ESCAPES FROM THE BODY LIKE AN ANIMAL STARVED."

The sound of it was expressively deafening. The full tilt of force that the vessel had crashed with, completely broadsided the patrolmen in their attempt at vehicular escape. The steep impact sucked the wind from their throats, and froze their faces in a shock that paralyzed them with fear. It was a sudden violence so unbridled, that it ravaged the metal framework of the hover-bus, irreparably buckling the transport and layering it in the blood and bones of those that rode within. There were sickly screams; this was not for the faint of heart. The long screech of broken and brassy steel, twisting against the road, was far worse than dragging nails across a dry chalk-board. Those that heard it, screwed their faces in displeasure, covering their ears from the horrifying sound. A monster of a creature heaved himself from the braised innards of the drop shell, shoving thick electrical cables aside and rising to meet the carnal smell of petrichor in the air. Morjanssik and its earth would be washed before dusk, a telling omen that meant more than just rainwater. Of note was how his jawline was sheathed in a chilling metal, bearing the keen measure of white fangs engrafted into its side. These were teeth torn from the mandibular bone of the White Wolf, skillfully handcrafted into a demon half-mask, or some would say. The natural exuberance of his dark skin played contrast to how it remained untainted by time and rot, covered by a wild wolfish black mane. He emerged slowly, wearing the kit of an ancient Sith God, accentuated by a lamellar warskirt flinching like thick blades of shadows in the wind. Gloomy, narrow eyes brooded within an imperiously beardless face, bearing vestiges of beauty underneath a depository of brutality. Masked lips, long eyelashes, and eyes somehow without a trace of color stared outwardly. They were tempestuous by nature, eyes painted in blind albinism. The rest of the detailings were soft scars and scowls lined with regal bone structure. He wore plates of armor so dark, that the natural light around him seemed only to serve and feed the oily obsidian wyrmsteel. His all whites, now darkened with a clouded grey mixture at the sight of the rallying opposition. The force of him was so raw and so inevitably uncalculating, that he seemed as pure as natural lightning. Undimmed by compromise and untamed by society, even the best of them felt here would feel trapped, so small when they suddenly realized the lunacy in that creatures like him truly existed. The gathering crowd slowed before him as if facing down a thunderhead, small currents of electricity swimming in and out of naked sight across his forearms. The primal half-mask suited to his face, looked chiseled from runic images of a wild beast cloaked in symbolisms of spiders, fangs and magnetism. The demon mask clicked autonomously before a second plate shot up to cover the unfamiliar face of the Dark Lord, forming into a completed helm. “Status?” “...Execution diameter confirmed, these people are disease-stricken. We approximate a safe distance of 1.8 meters from all sentient life. Reconcile ground formations. Quarantine our wounded, advised to eradicate all hostiles." A low voice rumbled through his communications unit. The Mon Cal Defense Forces were a little more equipped than initial intelligence suggested with almost a hundred foot soldiers armed with a variety of military-grade blasters and anti-armor weapons slowly advancing on their positions. Three emplacement weapon crews installed themselves into a cover-fire position, readying to hose down the Imperial positions. Three archaic T2-B tanks churned around the battlefield on repulsorlifts, hoping to make use of their shields and light cannons to ensure that their small infantry could cross open patches of terrain safely. Their hope was dwindling fast as they watched what had crawled from that drop-shell. More of the Sith Empire arrived by the second, hoarding the skies and occupying the land. Additionally, several T4-B tanks and old walkers with worn rebel insignia painted onto its hull, were reported as pinned down by superior armor and firepower with the Imperial Offense slowly closing in on them with their advanced treads and armored feet. Exodus absorbed the atmosphere once more before the rain, this time with his mind far-reaching. And to his surprise, there was a voice, whispering a language unfamiliar.

DUEL VERDICT Sarna vs. Relmis

Mon Cal Authorities frantically flooded High Command with red-tape legislation, desperate chatter that did little more than breathe undertones of just how fearful these people had become under the guidance of the galactic alliance. Independance, boundaries and trespassings were the moaning of the Quarren people, of a system that had been rattled by the rumblings of war in the past. High Command remained stoical in their speech patterns, unmoved by incessant pleas, hardened in their resolve and empowered by the massive armada that swarmed to their call. A dreadful and swallowing eclipse mourned over the diminutive blue planet, monstrous vessels casting a shadow as black as eel ink across the raging waters. High Command was cold and matter-of-fact in how they addressed the Quarren, unbothered by the dressings of their law. This was Sith-Imperial space now, and with the rumors of a rebel alliance, the sanctioning of this world would be immediate and heavy-handed. The Sentinels prepared for drop as the count measured zero. Sentinel Lead resisted the bile that built up in his throat at the sound of it, the nausea that he could never escape at the head of each drop. The old man relaxed himself within the confines of his armor, praying to whichever God would hear him, knowing that the coming turbulence would be anything but forgiving. Drops never were. But, any measure of the scurrying resistance at this point, warranted such a response. As it were when the presence of the Sith and the Empire of old were under collapse, command almost unilaterally preferred small engagements or hit-and-run tactics, charging in like this was definitely something new. DROP COMMENCING. FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE… The pod shuddered as sub-light engines kicked on, an almost unnoticeable shift in gravity hinting at the tremendous acceleration the drop shells underwent as it jettisoned from the cavernous hangar bays of the Goliath. Inertial dampeners burned at peak efficiency, graciously. Adrenaline filled them. Everything appeared to be in functioning order, the armored pods beginning to rattle and shake as they abruptly entered the atmosphere, nothing but the sound of slightly elevated breathing coming in over the comms. Hard seconds passed, ambient heat leaking through the shielding of the drop pods and the heaviness of their environmental exo-suits chafing against skin. They would shed these once landed. The metal became too jarring, tremoring loudly before boiling to a climax. With a final starving whine, the worst was over. Sensors cleared now that their atmospheric breaching maneuver was complete, and showing the pods of Sentinel team all roughly where they should be, no more than a few hundred meters out of position which was quickly corrected by bursts of the built-in maneuvering repulsor-lifts. Impressively however, the skies were filled with more than just their brilliant metal. It was an iron rain, a storm of Imperial life and vast machines falling fearlessly from the skies as hundreds and hundreds were making land and sea-fall. A swift scan of their target arrival area, and connection to the local Imperial tac net painted a rather bleak representation of the situation on the ground than had initially been suspected, actual numbers and vehicle designations being provided in a rush of information. The warehouses were in disarray, a fallen complex more rubble than it was intact, and a platoon of Imperial Legion first-responders that began to dig in amongst the wreckage. Secondly, a pair of AT-ST walkers mobilized into transportable sentries, monitoring their coordinates while additional carriers fixed positions. Lastly, Sentinel-Lead turned to see another drop-pod unfastening, his eyes were strangely fixated for reasons he could not naturally explain. Ignoring the tactical displays shooting across his visor, he knew that this pod was not enlisted within their drop composition, and that this one must've blown way off course. But when the devilish burnish of black boots clamored from the armored shell, thick incenses crawling from it in sheets of steam, Sentinel-Lead knew that a Sith had arrived.

S I T H L O R E ORIGIN LINKS: • Chaining of Onderon • Chaining of Onderon II Name: Hjertet av Raseri (Heart of Rage) Classification: Flower; Dark Side Nexus Lethality: Extreme Average Height: Varies Average Width: Varies C A U T I O N The Heart is the result of a moulded cast of Sith Steel being infused with necromantic energy either deliberately, or as the result of a traumatic event, with nourishment from a Seed of Rage.This type of amalgam breeds an infectious Dark Nexus that begins inorganically, and spreads as swift as wildfire once the roots set in. This type of embryonic flora is experimental, and has been produced only once prior. However, it is said that a sampling of this specimen has the ability to produce powerful crystals under the correct circumstances. It is worth noting, that to economically harvest or mine such artifacts from the grove is far too dangerous for ordinary folk. The Heart experiences rapid successions in expansive growth, as well as visual representation; Stems, roots, leaves and vascular tissue enlarges swellingly throughout the first few months of seeding and the developmental stages transition almost daily. As time progresses, the Heart will transcend into an entire ecosystem, evolving natural defences and hardening like bark around the blossomed seed and metal. As the natural complex magnifies it’s reach, the rate of maturation and spread will crawl to a slower pace and acclimatize to a specific territory. The Heart itself is autonomous and is an embodiment of raw Dark Side power, feeding profusely without reservations, yet offering an abundance of serviceability for those that can withstand and exploit such an alignment of force. With such an immense harnessing of energies, the flower inherits the aptitude to manipulate and influence biological matter on a cellular level. It dynamically perverts everything in its domain, predominates the nervous systems of wildlife, and also boasts the tendency to produce entirely new Sithspawn by means of a rather unique incubation system. These utilities act as a medium for manipulators of Sith Alchemy on a creatively grand scale; Necromancy, Sith Spawn Creation, Dark Immersion, Rehabilitative Incubation, Poison Creation to name a few. Hjertat av Raseri is cradle of pestilence, with roots and stems covered in poisonous thorns. The umbrage from the crowning ecosystem tunnels and burrows, opening pockets and cavities for mutated critters to breed, and for the undead to reign. A typical Seed of Rage infused with necromantic energies will hastily germinate in the midsts of rotting corpses and wastes of biological proportions. As time progresses the expansive roots will cover deceased corpses in a weblike manner and seemingly assimilate them into itself. Due to the shamanistic influences of the Force that drive this aberrant vegetation in its life cycle, there are cases in off-world projects that lay evidence to reanimation of the dead in both humanoids and creatures alike. The power of the Dark Side runs infinite within this type of habitation, rhythmical in how the pulsing red of the seed beats just as a heart does, and can be heard hypnotically for miles. The primal and non-sentient volition of the Heart maddens with time and pushes to consume all that surrounds it. As it stands, self preservation is the true purpose of this phenomenon. The reason for caution is death and the seductive mesmerism of the flower that professes a bevy of alarming traits; horrid hallucinations and self-harming thoughts flood the mind when in the vicinity of the flower. It is advised to not linger in the presence of it for any amount of time. H I S T O R Y • -- U N L O C K S • [sITH HIGH-RANKING NPC] • [sITH SPAWN #1] • [sITH SPAWN #2] • [sITH SPAWN #3] • [PERSONAL ARTIFACT] • [MORE TO COME]

W A R C H E S T x SITH DIRECTORY Command of Emperor King Exodus, and the Sith Empire. LOCATIONS Arachnakorr Bastion of Pelko Dragon Gate SPECIES Xian'tii The Ashoriath SITHSPAWN Dragul / Dragnoc / Dracsha HOUSES House Sovros House of Exiles House Vhassaar House Zibeti SUB-FACTIONS Covert Agency of Internal Affairs Starmasters of Varaka The Carver Guild The Disgraced The Whispering Augurs The Sable Weave The Red Knights of Truth The Immortal Shade Brothers The Sovereign Guild of Sith Tattooists Imperial Stormcloaks Bark'a Radir Be Kad Ha'Rangir Knights of the Blooded Drexl OMEGA Squadron Sith Troopers LORE Hjertet av Raseri, Heart of Rage Pyramid of Sith Philosophy Sith Pyramid of Production and Logistics WEAPONS Slipblade TECHNOLOGY / ARTIFACTS Skullclamp Sith Command Interface Wyrmsteel NPCs Garik Doma, Devilfish Darth Infidus Darth Sensara Gethin'pugh, Darth Gw'rchod The Prime Agent VEHICLES WARSHIPS The Bleeding Kyber Xian'tii Warships Valhalla, Centurion-Class Battlecruiser ---

I see you in her. It is never more than a twinkling: a glance, a breath, a dismissive gesture. The way she narrowed her eyes to stare defiantly into fear, easily, naturally; the way her clenched hands would find supreme conviction. Are you there, Malachi? The way the waves of whole planets shifted as she dreamed loudly, the lines of sorrow chasing one another deeply across the paleness of her sweet face as you fell in love with something so terrifying. They return me to the moments that she would stand above you when you slept alone, watching your ruthless slumber, hating the way you slept knowing that one-eye was forever watching. You are so distrusting of others, she knew you could see her, standing there above you. Watching her, blade in hand, knowing that she did not have the fire to threaten your life, to stay your hand from those that you assassinated mercilessly. If only you would fall asleep, she could end it for you. She would stand there for hours, and wondered if she called on all training you had given her, if she moved just quickly enough, maybe her knife could find your heart before yours found another, if she could quench the burning in her chest with your feverish blood and earn your attention for but a moment, maybe just one word, even if it were words that sealed her life then and there. You were much quieter then. It would have been worth it, to break your bond with the killings and rob them of the heart that they had turned so cold. It would have been so worth it. How did it get like this? When did it all begin, she wondered. The many moons and the distant stars betrayed her pleading, withholding their secrets in fear that you would tear them from the skies. Nature itself trembled before the black power coming from you. She knew your birth-mother was the key, and that when you had lost her, you had lost your humanity. She was losing hers now, over the years of trying to stitch you back together every night. Your wounds were grave and were many, but many did not become more as you grew older. You became untouchable. Your mouth had forgotten how to widen to a smile, as each encounter left you with less and less to show for it. You smile now though, have you noticed? You were more efficient, arrogantly so, avoiding the mess of your butchering if only to exact an air of cleanliness in your fieldwork. She could no longer bandage what was not there, you became as fierce as wildfire, and that too robbed her of purpose. She had nothing to fix, and the warmth from your body had left, colder than the wintry coals of Ziost. Did you notice when she parted ways? Did you even blink twice? Do you think of her now? What of your mother, Malachi? Can you see them, as clear as I see you? "I do." Silence enveloped his personal stateroom, the keepsakes of his past tried their hands at heart-strings that no longer dangled loosely, from a heart that no longer beat as it once did. Yes, he could see that which the dark wished of him, with an indifference that boldly challenged the constant harping of challenging spirits. He sat cross-legged on a raised platform, his body and mind as hardened as the monstrous plates that shielded the skeleton of the Goliath itself, meditating on all that had come to past, internal turmoil, and the task laid ahead of him. Only when the industrial klaxons blared, signaling the end of his hyperspace journey, did his eyes truly open. Rings of magma burning inside of those eyes, saying what his words would not. The face of the King was flawlessly imperious by all regal meaning, unscathed by the black of the dark side and the rot of war. This storied conqueror had just begun. The dreadful skulk of the Flagship Goliath rumbled through the tumultuous dissonance of hyperspace, extraterrestrial streaks of lambent light dispersed wildly as it settled before the azurean planet. Yawning spaces of black played welcome to a spread of warships that blinked into horrifying formation, assimilating with another division of their naval force that had arrived earlier. The Goliath was chief among them, ghoulishly vast in his dimensions, daunting in comparison to the many others that now fleshed out this grand flotilla. In wicked efficiency, the dispositions of the Sith naval power aligned itself dangerously towards the Rebel planet of Mon Calamari. Reaver-Lead operation is a go. Drop in T-minus ten. "Copy that, Goliath. Reavers stations." Reaver-3, check. Reaver-5, ready. Reaver-2, 4, 6 are operational with no errors detected, Reaver-Lead. "Good. Let's run the operation through before jump, I know you lot are itching for green." "Fives been doing a lot of itching, Reaver-Lead. Said medical wouldn't een' give it a look!" Comms filled with laughter Reaver-Lead, a grizzled and towering veteran that passed as more machine than man, brought up the holographic display in his helmet's display and fed the image into his squad's optical sensors. "The city of Morjanssik is under quarantine by what we imagine is a sizable Rebel force, intel suggests that we drop in with no less than eight platoons with three mechanized infantry columns, fifteen vehicles total. The local garrison have marshaled their forces in the event of several terrorist operations, the rest have already laid assault to these buildings here-" At his command a sprawling industrial complex was expanded upon, appearing as a cluster of warehouses to the Dark Troopers dissecting the images. "Oh and Reavers, Looks like we've found some Jedi." ______________________________________ Fleet Command (Flagship) Taskforce Experience (I) Commander: Dark King Exodus, Captain Rosa Orsaa Augmentation: Axial Weapon Xhendora-Class Dreadnought Goliath |20/20| The Xhendora-Class Dreadnought is one of the largest vessels in the Sith-Imperial Armada. So far only two vessels of the class, The Goliath, and another under construction. These two advanced warships are designated as Fleet command ships, and form the core of a line of battleships and dreadnoughts intended to counter any direct assault in Sith-Imperial Space by a large scale fleet formation. Dense, cutting edge armor, heavy shielding, reinforced hulls, and numerous other internal and external modifications make the hull one of the most rugged ever constructed to serve under the Imperial Machine. The heavy-set firepower, and thick armor make the Goliath one of the most formidable forces in known hyperspace. Direct and deliberate frontal assaults easily overpower lesser opponents. Under the Goliath's relentless assault most targets break and run, or surrender if retreat is impossible. Sith Covert Strike Force Taskforce Experience Green (I) - Assigned Callsign - Reaver Vornskr-Class Stealth Cruiser |9/9| Huntress Raider II-Class Corvette Tracer |2/1| Raider II-Class Corvette Pandora |2/1| Raider II-Class Corvette Spectrum |2/1| Scythe Raider-Class Corvette Carver |2/1| Raider-Class Corvette Blade |2/1| Raider-Class Corvette Haunting |2/1| Heavy Brawler Escort (Hammer and Anvil) Taskforce Experience Green - Assigned Callsign - Shield Harrower-Class Battle Cruiser Monarch|20/20|

ROUND TWO Qaela / Mordecai vs Godfrey / Lok Round Two [Q&M] Task Force Herløv targets Task Force Hammer with (Focus Fire) - Novarch Ackbar takes 6 damage, 3 to the remaining shields and 3 to the Hull Starfighter action; INTERCEPTION on both available Task Forces - Nulls damage from all enemy bombers. Round Two [G&L] Taskforce Hammer prepares retreat, takes full round. - (Starfighter Action) Free Fleet Commander "Bombers Inbound" On the Herløv - Damage is nullified by opposing Bombers (Interception) Rebel Alliance Precision Strike Carrier Group prepares for retreat, takes full round. -

Command centers bloomed with a funnel of new and vital information. Planetary management became of immediate importance once a suitable station nestled into the bedrock of a dismantled Coruscant. District creation, building constructions and design, assigning grand workforces for resource production and to maintain peace or enforce order. Officials spent the better half of the night managing the impossibly high disparities in the numbers regarding population decline, all while setting up additional garrisons for planetary defense. The world was a tangle of webs, but these were the right people for the untangling of them. Piracy was shot to a crawling halt once the presence of entire armadas poured into the system. The Sith Empire spared no expenses in the roll out of their might. With the rings of Kuat under new directives, their ship production soared to an unmatchable efficiency. Sword fleets, patrol behemoths, and creations unseen by any man or woman in recent wars, had nonchalantly dominated the trade routes. The presence of fleets automatically halted the rampant piracy for the systems in which they threw their collective weight. Various sentinel armadas were given orders to patrol between systems, coordinating with joint task forces to increase visibility, for their borders now expanded dangerously fast. To aid in the spread, monolithic outposts were deployed from regions in proximity to give nearby systems further trade protection, also campaigning heavily escorted convoys to assist the operations. Empire-wide laws of behavior outlining the governing precepts for how they have and will guide themselves further in the expansion through the stars, as well as their stance on various other tedious subjects would begin to trickle into the political houses once they were windswept, and the dominion of the Spider would soon capture the galactic jewel whole. Exodus ran his fingers across the SCI built into the vambrace slung to his forearm. The drill of information that flooded unmarked channels was more than enough to break the failing Dark Lords that preceded his reign, the intangibles chipping away at inflated ego. At a checkpoint such as this, most crumbled in their rule, bouncing from planet to planet aimlessly. They were bright flames to a solemn candle, flickering out as time and space ate at their resources. Those that followed Exodus now, would carve a legacy worthy of forever. "Ca'Aran," the Dark King announced through encrypted voice messaging, a voice so easily pitched in an eerie carving of sound. "Do you see them? The pieces are coming together for you. They shift when you speak, they follow when you lead. They will fight, and die for you, but how.. is entirely in your hands." He let the moment breath for but a second, knowing he already understood such things from the past he had carved for himself. What he really wished to say would dig far deeper. ".. Have you been made aware? Those that left you for dead have shown their faces at last. They have resurfaced unbothered by your disappearance, many believe it is relief as whispers go. They have flaunted their luxury in a system not too far from our reach. Let me remind you, Ca'aran. You are home now, and nothing is out of our reach. Keep me apprised of Salliche." The message cut immediately after, with the Dark King hungrily searching the stars as he departed the broken surface of Coruscant.

ROUND ONE Qaela / Mordecai vs Godfrey / Lok Round One [Q&M] Task Force Herløv targets Task Force Hammer with (Focus Fire) - A ship in Task Force Hammer takes 6 damage to their shields Starfighter action; bombers inbound on Task Force Hammer - The same ship in the same task force takes 2 damage to their hull Round One [G&L] Taskforce Hammer engages Star Destroyer Herløv with its removal action “Focus Fire” - Herløv takes 8 damage to their shields (Starfighter Action) Free Fleet Commander "Bombers Inbound" On the Herløv - Herløv takes 3 damage to their hull Rebel Alliance Precision Strike Carrier Group - Bombers Inbound on Herløv - Herløv takes 3 damage to their hull (Starfighter Action) Fleet Commander - Bombers Inbound on Herløv * Only 1 Starfighter Action per side; The other task forces do have starfighters, but the starfighter commands represent a side using an overwhelming number of starfighters to push through a certain action. So narratively speaking, you both have starfighters available, it's just on the lead PC to direct their actions as a unit. (First round up, reminder to both parties. Be as specific as you can with who you attack with, and who you are targeting. Thanks! Enjoy writing out the results!)