Oristicon: The Battle-scarred (SW: GDA Location Thread)

Oristicon:

The History of Oristicon is a tragic one. Once considered the crown jewel of the Outer Rim, encased in a wonderous nebula in a system that bears its name, it has since fell from grace due to nearly a century of war between the Empire and the Republic. Its significant natural resources caught the eyes of the Empire, which in turn lead to a series of invasions on the once Republic held sector. Since becoming absorbed into the sphere of Imperial influence, the multiple metropolises have slowly degraded due to emigration, as rumors of mass slave labor have become prevalent in the fields of Carbon, Desh, Neutronium, Diamond and Crystal mining. Oristiconian Sapphires, the prizes of the planet, are sought out across the galaxy for their rarity and beauty, as well as being one of the most powerful crystals for lightsabers and honored amongst the Jedi as gifts.

Yet, unknown to most of the galaxy, long ago Oristicon was a haven for Sith studies and sorcery within the mountainous oceanside region known as the Ilariskii range but also many fortified structures and perils aplenty.

The Empire has dealt with rebellion in small occurrences since its conquering, however they were sporadic and isolated events until recently. For many years a Rebellion movement has spread and had gained traction, until Darth Miltiades crushed the insurgency and now the planet, broken and battle-scarred, faces nigh extinction at the hands of the Empire as punishment.

Sapphire City, capital of the world, now burns...

more details coming soon...

Demographics:

With a population of approximately twenty billion people, Oristicon boasts a medium sized population in the Galaxy, but one of the largest in the Outer Rim.

Oristicon is primarily Human inhabited, accounting for 90% of its population while a significant portion of the remainder is split between Rodians and Duros. An impressive Cerean population exists, given their extraordinary low birth rate, it supports the highest number of Cerean inhabitants in the Outer Rim. Due to its proximity to various Hyperlanes and an economic trade-hub, Oristicon's merchant and transportation sectors support most sentient species from across the galaxy.

Several Megacities exist on Oristicon, however the most famous of all is known as Sapphire City. Named for the source of its great prosperity and the glimmering blue river that carves it way though its many boroughs, its population is nearly half of the planet's, approximately 9.6 billion. Also conveniently located next to the ocean, it has become a center for watersports and marina lifestyle only known to the wealthiest citizens in the galaxy and a popular destination for tourism from the Core Worlds. Situated behind the city is the Ilariskii range, forming a natural barricade of the elements and providing defenses from western advances.

Geography:

• Temperate Climate: lacking extremes and possesses four seasons typically save for the coasts which lack winter snow
• Colonized Moon: Once a Carbon mining colony, the moon known as Durbon One supports a large network of fortresses being to the Empire
• Karst Topography: Beneath the ground lay seemingly uncountable systems of caverns due to vast limestone erosion
• Bioluminescent Waters: A unique form of algae resides within the various oceans, seas and lakes of Oristicon, giving their shores a glittering blue light and large swathes of these bioluminescent algae drifts gives deeper waters, near the surface, hundreds of acres of color.
• Ilariskii Range: Large North-South running mountain chain that supports various networks of fortresses and long lost Sith artifacts.

Details and pictures coming soon...

Karst Topography and Bioluminescence concepts provided by Aelia Stormwind

OoC:

• Recent Events: Miltiades' Wrath
• This Location is currently in the state of constant planet-wide warfare and Imperial occupation; mild destruction of sites (within reason) are allowed due to nature of geopolitics and wartime. However, major destruction of occupied territories such as the Ilariskii range and Sapphire City are prohibited unless contacting Sargon Stryfe or Darth Miltiades prior.
• SW: GDA Rules Apply
• Have A Good Time (b~_^)b

Nice. Got you a PM incoming, just a question.

Awesome! Added this to the location thread. ~_^

@darth_miltiades@lord_decimus

Behind the metal hull of his shuttle, Darth Impero sat like a black eagle watching it's prey from the skies. And as his shuttle soared, the Hollow Lord cast his eyes to the glowing sea below. A sea that seemed more energy than water. Yet the only energy Impero gave credence to was of the Force he so obsessively studied. So as land emerged from the horizon, the Hollow Lord set his sights on the ivory troops of the military base ahead. There, he would find Lord Decimus, and he would be a step closer to unearthing more of the Force's secrets - as promised by Darth Miltiades. How cruel, that Oristicon's temples held artifacts of a power Lord Decimus could no longer wield.

What a waste, Impero thought, of Miltiades' son.

Descending into a smooth glide, Impero's shuttle slowed onto the landing strip, and out the vessel's doors he walked. Black cape flowing behind him, and his armed soldiers flanking him, the Hollow Lord'd brought an elite squad of combatants to aid in Lord Decimus' mission. Their minds sharp and their hearts cold, they glanced at the sky and land, studying the weather and terrain as Impero looked ahead past the three dozen officers - to lock eyes with Lord Decimus. Once a chosen son of the Force itself, Lord Decimus was a shell of Durasteel and lost potential. Such a waste, Impero thought a second time. Yet as the stride of his troops stopped, the Hollow Lord banished the thought from his mind and stopped a foot from Lord Decimus.

Impero towered over him, but Lord Decimus was thicker, a bundle of muscle and machine wrapped together into a hulking monster of rage and ferocity. "Lord Decimus", Impero greeted, voice dark and cool, chin high and posture regal. "Let us not waste time with pleasantries. Catch us up to speed on the situation".

@darth_impero: Love this dude, dope post.

Dropping something big in the next couple days.

I hate mobile formatting, but nice write-up!

@darth_impero:

The hulk of cybernetic durasteel was wrapped in a cloak of black. Plain and simple fabric. From under it's hood eyes that glowed red met the empty void of Darth Impero's eye pieces. Hollow eyes for a hollow lord.

"As you say." His voice was a guttural metallic growl from a throat filled with scar tissue and steel.

No pleasantries. That suited Decimus.

"Two clicks to the east lay the first gates. One hundred meters tall by five hundred wide. Solid durasteel; twenty seven feet thick. Penetrable only by sustained orbital bombardment-- which would collapse the entryway, denying us access to the fortress. Clever. But not clever enough. Ion bombardment from the Imperator disabled the gates seconds before they fully closed. Now there is a twelve meter crack between the two gates."

"Recon probes have been sent through. Destroyed in seconds. But the flash scans they performed indicate at least seventy six thousand soldiers in the entry-passage. It is six hundred meters wide; we don't know how long. The seventy six thousand life signs are dug into the rock. Trenches. Emplaced weaponry. Anti-tank, ion, the works. We have several million men but we cannot squeeze them through the twelve meter gap fast enough to overwhelm the defenders. Six battalions have been vaporized so far."

"That is where you come in. Our mission is simple-- enter the gap and cross to the first line of stone trenches as quickly as possible. Enter the trench and install a portable shield generator. Our calculations indicate the shield can survive ninety two seconds of fire before the power source collapses. Enough time for the first wave to enter, bringing backup powercells and additional shield generators. We snowball from there."

@darth_impero: @lord_decimus: @darth_miltiadesAnd pretty much anyone else on Oristicon

Continuation of Nexus Thread Post, Onslaught Cometh

The shadows of Sapphire City were in the distance, encasing what seemed to be the entire horizon in its enormity and some buildings seem to impale the night sky, mirroring the Ilariskii; the great chain of jagged peaks to its west. The march of Empire was in the air. The mechanical battlecries of airborne TIE fighters sounded under starlight and the juggernaut walkers crushed the earth beneath their pedestals. Alabaster columns of soldiers continued forward, attempting to breach the nigh-indestructible hulls of the fortresses beneath the mountains.

All of this nestled inland, against the dazingly hyper-luminescent shores of an algae filled ocean.

All of this...seen by the bloodlusted eyes of Sargon’s riders; who gazed through mirror black helmets atop their Swoops, crimson streaks of ion particles behind them as they tore above grass and sand forward, always forward, towards Sapphire City.

The two Sith Impero and Decimus had the bulk of the forces, leaving sporadic corps to defend what has already been taken. Miltiade’s Imperial’s have been fighting for some time with the inhabitants, something Stryfe had counted on.

____________________

_________

Oristicon's Skies...

Coinciding with Nightbringer Location...

Tearing through the sky, the spectral Dawn Eater cloaked and armed prepared to intercept its starfighter targets, descending from the furthest heights of the Troposphere and downward like a Hawk-bat towards a number of TIE fighters. Radar jammers activated until the final moments. Like a phantom, it then deactivated all such generators, maximizing its auxiliary power for weaponry and shielding and it begun its assault. Attempting to catch the craft by surprise and succeeding as four plasma cannons began launching a decisive cannonade as the Dawn Eater rolled, evading return fire with strategic maneuvering and began pursuit of the fighters.

Sargon’s craft, a pinnacle of its class, was manned by former pirates and smugglers, heavily versed in ship to ship combat, it would make quick work as the cannons fired continuously and manned port and starboard side omni-rotating turbolasers fired from its flanks in a bombardment of scarlet.

The TIE fighters were nimble and quick, in formations they were ruthless however they were poorly shielded by design and their signature solarfins were large targets.

Caught unprepared and against a much larger, highly weaponized and faster craft...the fought against the Scourge of Sith Space and Hyperlanes across the Galaxy.

...And lost, each in an explosion.

Though these were not the entirety of Miltiade’s armada on Oristicon, a mere scramble, it was more than enough to get the prospective Emperor’s Armed Forces on alert. Yet, Stryfe wanted results and a plan had been set in motion.

The lead officer on duty, not daring to sit upon Sargon’s throne in the bridge, announced to the crew view loudspeaker. “Ordnance dispersed on my command. Ready the payload for ejection in three...two...one...”

A hatch in the rear of the Dawn Eater was opened, a landing bridge extended forth as repulsors fired forward, causing pallets of uniformly stacked bombs to launch backwards down the bridge. In the dead of night, an improvised airborne payload screeched through the air and downward, spiraling out of control as the straps frayed and snapped and the plundered plasma bombs were freed from their cages, spreading out conically.

Sapphire City, occupied and oppressed, having seen the scope of wrath of Miltiades, now in this moment, was the site of a horrendous Sith Civil War.

And it began to burn again, as the first borough was overtaken by plasma bombs and the bright orange light of their explosions causing metal and concrete to freefall from their heights, and the collapsing buildings crashed into one another, resulting in a screaming city and aimed at distracting Miltiade’s Army from the true attack.

And thus, the Dawn Eater made a pass over the Ilariskii, the silver crescent, allowing the masses below to behold its splendor...and to take credit for its onslaught, only to slip upwards deep into the Troposphere and reactivating its cloaking and jammer technology.

____________________

_________

Sapphire City...

After the Dust Settled...

“This is Colonel Amilicar Vexx...the Dawn Eater has begun its assault, we will seize the moment...break the lines and stir havok.”

The Nightbringers raced towards their intended targets, in the shadows of a crumbling borough, taking from the dew-wet grass and dry sand onto cracked pavement of Sapphire City. Their modified blaster rifles outfitted high capacity plasma cartridges and tampered triggers, were raised from Swoop mounted holsters above a saddle of Electropoles, opposite the throttle allowing for rapid fire and control of their vehicles simultaneously. The flew across the concrete dangerously low, sometimes mere inches on their speeders and weaved through the streets in what seemed like a single daemonic shade.

Then they were set loose.

Breaking away from their formation, Swoop riders took off into multiple directions, but always acting as one vicious unit and they began hunting down their rival Imperial foes with deadly intent.

Killing anything that moved, trooper or vehicle that found themselves in their high-speed path.

@sargon_stryfe: @lord_decimus:

With nay a sound echoing from his helmet, Impero listened, catching Lord Decimus' every word with a psychopathic attention to detail. And as mention of the twelve meter crack between the gates was made, the air around Impero seemed to shift, as if blown the other way by a telekinetic gale. In his pursuit of greater Force knowledge, the Hollow Lord had learned of legends. Legends of Sith sorcerers whose command of the Force could forge entire valleys between mountains. Such power would prove useful to his and Lord Decimus' mission. But such power was little else than what many regarded it as; legend. Myth. "A frustrating predicament", Impero noted, his voice deep and his delivery impersonal.

"Very well. I will be in the front-line and provide your men with cover", Impero said, certain that a storm of Force lightning would buy their troops enough time to plant the shield generators. Turning round to meet eyes with his men as a strong wind swept through to sweep the land, Darth Impero raised his chin and balled his fist - seizing several of his men by the joints with a telekinetic grip. With their attention on him, the Hollow Lord loosened his grip, and air once thickened with the Force grew thin again. "The enemy troops have already decided on whether they will kill you or not. I however, am still undecided", he warned, straightening his men's backs with words alone, "Failure will not be tolerated". Returning his hidden gaze to Lord Decimus, Impero, unconcerned with the conflicts raging elsewhere on Oristicon, asserted, "We are ready to proceed".

With his men armed, briefed, and his Sith powers at the ready, the Hollow Lord waited as fighter ships tore the air asunder as they raced overhead, to Sapphire City, Impero imagined. To engage Darth Miltiades' forces.

@darth_impero: @sargon_stryfe:

Fighters screamed overhead. An officer pushed through the lines of stormtroopers. Approached Decimus, snapped off a salute and handed him him a holopad.

"Under attack sir. Sapphire City. Speeders. Bombing too."

Red eyes browsed the information. Then a cybernetic hand squeezed. Plastic popped and glass shattered as the Sith warrior crushed the holopad and tossed it aside.

"Irrelevant." He turn on a heel and headed toward the gates. "Notify my father of the assault." Anger burned in his eyes. "And let the old man clean up his own mess."

With those words Decimus lead the masses of soldiers through layers of trenches and prefab fortifications bolted into the stone below in case of a sudden surprise assault from the forts defenders until the throng of soldiers reached the gates.

They were vast. Impenetrable by conventional weaponry. Cold durasteel thicker than a battleships armor. The gates were scored black in the center with ion residue.

Decimus ran a finger down it then brushed it off on his cloak. The portable shield generator had been mounted upon his back. He drew his saber and it burned crimson in his hand.

He remember the heights to which he had risen. He thought of the way everyone looked at him now.

Hatred flowed through him and then the dark side and he was lost in it and power filled him once again. Limbs were animated with a speed beyond the likes of mortal men.

He charged.

There was a pause. Then the blaster fire came. A few surprised bursts at first but then the trickle became a torrent and green fire poured toward the zig-zagging monster in the simple black cape. Most missed. Some was flicked aside by his saber, but not much as Juyo was not a style intended to deflect blaster fire. The rest pelted his Beskar armor.

He ignored it.

And within seconds he was tumbling inside the first trench. Ten soldiers surrounded him. He cut them to pieces with great blows from his heavy saber.

Then the fire came in earnest. And the grenades. Without Impero's support he would be forced to retreat.. or cut down.

"Medic!"

Third day of deployment.

They were in the tunnels now, trying to find a way further into the mountain range. A task force made up of members of the 117th, some of the more brash and daring of the Legion.

Jhen Brego was the first to sign up. His friend Lorandis Manrak is dragging him to safety after a partial forced cave-in. His legs are crushed and he's bleeding profusely. The Dark Trooper Strayfer Drokan is covering for them, bursts from his sonic blaster pushing rebels back but they're already gone. Hit and run tactics at their finest.

"Jhen, you stay with me you hear? Wake up damn yo-"

Lorandis chokes back tears. He hoists the body into a fireman's carry and hustles out of the tunnels. It is just one of many of the close-quarter battles being used to pry and test the Imperial way into the fortresses.

The 117th takes heavy losses.

Some awesome posts so far!

I'll have something finished when I get in tonight.

@sargon_stryfe:

Steam hissed, gusts of heat in the cold air as the shuttle settled into place.

The Darth disembarked. He wore a simple, but elegant tunic. A rich brown and a golden belt. No cloak; it might interfere with his movements.

His saber hung at his side.

Two lines of soldiers saluted and stood frozen like white statues. Miltiades strode between them, looking neither left nor right.

Around him raged the sounds of battle. An officer greet him with a crisp salute. "Sir!"

"Report."

"15th, 9th and 82nd being overrun. Plasma bombing cut them off from reinforcements and a lightning strike from speeders has them pinned down and isolated."

"I see. Order them to dig into the rubble of collapsed buildings. Find tunnels, sewers and what fortifications remain. Speeders will struggle to maneuver in those conditions. Bring a Star Destroyer into orbit above the city and begin TIE sorties and order the 104th to encircle the city. They must be no escape."

"Hold him down!" apothecary Magus Gelthrak demanded, his bionic eye fixating on the patient.

They were in a rudimentary medical tent, surrounded by victims of the latest push into the tunnels. Most were silent, unconscious or shell-shocked. At worst some were already dead. Jhen was not one of those lucky few. Lorandis had gotten him to the med bay fast enough. Strayfer covered their retreat until reinforcements arrived to cut deeper into the system.

He was there, silent and grim, until Magus instructed him with a glare to grab the legs.

Jhen was going into shock. Brain death was minutes away with how much blood he was hemorrhaging from the crushed femoral artery in his leg. The other was salvageable. Lorandis was screaming for him to stop shaking.

Gelthrak shoved a blaster clip into Jhen's mouth to half-throttle the cries of pain. The main reason was he was low on anesthetic and bacta. He had plenty of juice in his cauterizing saw, however.

It was a quick surgery. Jhen snapped back to reality, that gruesome and horrid miasma of death. He smelled it in his throat. The blaster clip bent to the shape of his teeth as his muffled screams intermingled with Lorandis' own of pure and primal panic.

As quickly as the blade cut into his flesh, it was out, leaving a smouldering stump where his limb used to be. Jhen didn't know anything about it at the time. He was passed out to the rhythm of the blood transfusion dripping into his veins. He would live.

Lorandis fell to the ground, dazed.

"Alright get him off. Find a bunk somewhere and stay with him," Gelthrak basically just ordered Strayfer to do it. Lorandis wasn't much for helping at the moment. He watched as the Dark Trooper seemed to lay his best friend in the war inside an open grave framed with white linen.

He didn't say much at bedside.

Something about being an idiot for wanting to see the damned Dragoons, then a string of curse words.

It was quiet after that. As quiet as it could be through the palpable anguish around them.

On the dark side of the neighboring moon, a squadron of roughly a dozen X-wing starfighters waited. Cloaked and running optimized settings to preserve power and fuel, clone pilots awaited the arrival of their commander and his Padawan. The wait was insufferable but no one complained. Missions like this were what they were made for. They understood; these clones didn't even have names. Varied, utterly forgettable numbered designations would carry them to the end of this mission - for however deep into the mission they saw.

This was fine. They knew no other way. The important things were the Jedi, who were arriving now in the onyx and blue YT-1300. Knic Fent sounded over the comms, confirming identity and allowing the plan to commence.

The fleet of X-wings emerged from behind the moon, made a wide loop as not to give away their starting position, and engaged the Empire's spacecraft. Grossly outnumbered as they were, they would never be able to fight off the entire enemy force. But they didn't have to. All they needed to do was wreak havoc and draw fire, creating a hole in the Imperial blockade well enough for Stormwind to squeeze her craft unnoticed through the gap.

Re-engaging stealth, Blazing Zephyr rocketed out from behind the moon. Subtle telepathic urging from the Nautolan focused her mind on the objective, forcing the clones and their sealed fates from her mind.

A sudden impact rocked the vessel and its camouflage wavered. They'd touched atmosphere - their own maximum danger zone. A blazing streak in the sky, they were no longer hidden. Aelia amped the ship's speed to counteract drag and Fent monitored radar for incoming ships. Between the chaos, both surface and air, around the warring world, none seemed to notice the entry. Thankfully. Ablative shielding remained at just 25 percent by the time the YT-1300 safely breached the atmosphere and would need time to recharge.

Still, this was only the beginning. Heavy contact inside and around Sapphire City meant they were forced to park a not insignificant distance away from the objective for its own safety and theirs, relying on mounted landspeeders for nearer transport. Once the vehicles were unloaded, Jedi Knight pulled Padawan aside.

Knic Fent held a holoprojector in his palm, displaying a translucent blue holo-replica of the Ilariskii range. "No doubt surrounded by Imperial forces by now. I will bring the noise. And, as few things are as effective at drawing attention as a lightsaber on the battlefield, I will divert attention so that you can sneak your way inside. If you'll take this knight's advice, you should acquire an Imperial disguise, quietly. We don't have the benefit of our clones on this world, and given the effort poured into this offensive I expect we may see Sith. This is where I come in, and where your training on Dantooine comes in. For the soldiers a simple disguise will do, but those trained in the force may sense you in close proximity. Have you learned to hide yourself from the perceptions of others?"

After a moment's hesitation, the Padawan gave a vaguely uncertain nod. "I don't know how well...Yes, depending on who from. Are we expecting a Sith Lord?"

"No," Knic chuckled, "we are not. Then you should be fine. But be careful. You'll be afforded some cover inherently by the rebellion's retaliation on the Imperials, but once you're inside, at first glance you will appear to the rebels as the enemy.Now you see why I needed one proficient in Form III? It won't be easy gaining access to the governor, but if we can create enough of a distraction and earn the trust of the rebels, they might be willing to help punch a hole well enough for you to escort him safely to your speeder, back here, and off of this world. But Aelia..." A clawed hand gripped her bicep and squeezed uncomfortably hard. Aelia reeled slightly but he held strong. "Our mission is simply to get in, get the governor, and get out. Not to kill Sith nor save the rebellion. Whatever the circumstances are here, whatever your feelings, you must remember that our allegiance is to the Republic, not these people just because they oppose the Empire. Valaras Borathi is important to us because he has information the Supreme Chancellor has deemed important. Don't lose sight of that."

It made sense, intellectually. Just like she'd learned on Dantooine. All she had to do was focus on the immediate goal without overthinking. Aelia nodded.

Then they mounted the speeders and were off toward the war zone.

@lord_decimus: @sargon_stryfe:

Over the thunder of battleships soaring overhead, Impero caught the red glare of Lord Decimus' eyes, and saw an anger that could melt durasteel. His father, Darth Miltiades, thought less than nothing of him - and Lord Decimus hated him for it. But it didn't matter. All that sat in Impero's mind were the Sith artifacts he was promised. And so, he strode on, a sorcerer cloaked in black amid a sea of soldiers clad in white. And to gates impenetrable and vast, they came not like a rising tide, but a leak through a crack. Together, they marched into the trenches as a military renewed, for as Lord Decimus charged in with the shield-generator mounted on his back, Impero caught the first flash of blaster fire.

Then the second, then the third, till finally, a storm was upon them. And Darth Impero, would answer in kind. While Lord Decimus faced the brunt of enemy assault, the Hollow Lord felt the Force crackle at his fingertips. The Force surrendered to the sorcery he commanded and he thrust his hands forward, electrifying the air with a power almost unstoppable; Force Lightning. Bolts of energy flowed, and for eighty feet all enemies standing in Impero's sight were cooked. Bodies twitched, skin burned, hearts stopped, and death followed. And in Impero's wake, charred corpses dropped at the many. Yet even he, a Sith sorcerer of strong mind and stronger skill, felt his might tire and his body overheat. So the air cooled and his Force Lightning vanished, hopefully having bought Lord Decimus the time to install the shield generator, and for his power to cool down.

Hopefully, Impero had earned Lord Decimus enough time. Yet as the Hollow Lord strode forward, his fingertips humming from the heat of his Force Lightning, he stood ready to call upon the Force's other powers. And his men, armed and focused, hung back to answer any blaster fire in kind.

Ulain Reth knew the value of war more than anyone. It was the purest form of exaltation of the Reaper, the Bloody-Handed Journeyer. His war-god Kad Ha'rangir looked down upon the Mandalorians with pride. Ulain had no doubt in his heart or mind that the fighting on Oristicon would only get worse and that was precisely what he wanted to achieve.

He had already killed his fair share of rebels in the name of the Empire and in the honor of his god. Death in battle was a death worthy of respect. These rebels he piled around him in mounds of corpses were to be ceremonially burned, so that Kad Ha'rangir could count them and add their tally to Ulain's own personal legend. He flicked his wrist-mounted flamethrower into action.

But there was a mission he hadn't yet achieved along these mountains. Pursuing rebel task forces looking to surround the stormtrooper legions would only give him passing glories. There were numerous camps dedicated to harvesting the Imperial wounded from the battlefield, perhaps to preserve them for a later death.

Death already claimed them in Ulain's mind. They were dead men, dead women, who only clung to life. They needed to be reminded that their lives and indeed Ulain's own ultimately didn't matter unless they perished in the greatest battle they could find. If Ulain had to choose, he would die in the shadow of the Sapphire City. That was where the Darths were amassing.

He went into the nearest camp to find recruits for such an undertaking.

Lorandis had left for the front lines at Jhen's urging. The young Private Brego only recently received the bionic leg implant he sorely needed. Tuning it required time that the battle didn't have. Rebels were constantly moving and shifting, drawing forces away to the Sapphire City. He wouldn't fight on Oristicon again. The fake leg drew only disgust from him.

"Look, you're in the wrong place if you're looking for recruits," he overheard Gelthrak shout. He wasn't a subtle man, if the amputations he handed out were any indication.

"Your purpose is to keep the dead alive until Kad Ha'rangir can find them again. That time is now,"

Jhen didn't know much about alien cultures, least of all what the man Gelthrak was arguing with was talking about. But when he locked gazes with that T-shaped visor his blood ran cold. It was as if his veins were being smothered in ice, and he couldn't look away.

"You, with the ghost limb. The drums of war are still beating in tune with your heart. Stand, and follow me,"

Jhen felt like he had to comply and, before he knew it, he was standing despite never meeting this man before. He hurriedly put his armor back on.

"You are ready to die a second time. Good."

"Damn Mandalorians. Private Brego, take your plate off and lay back down!" Gelthrak ordered.

Jhen took up his blaster, but didn't reply. He just followed the 'Mandalorian'. He would not fight on Oristicon again, but he knew where he would die.

@darth_miltiades:

Durbon One...

Orisiticon’s Moon...

Dayside...

Concurrent with the events in Sapphire City...

A mammoth commercial star freighter Cornucopia exited hyperspace and began the slow descent into the space port of Durbon One; its bone colored land, lifeless and barren, reflected the dying light of the single sun of the Oristicon system. Inbound from Raxulon, a trading mecca some lightyears away, the freighter carried Imperial supplies of various sorts, primarily foodstuffs and rather banal equipment and other tedious supplies. Inside its hull was miles of such objects, guarded by an assortment of troops, it had great importance logistically but was often overlooked in wartime by the unprepared. Guarding such a large ship also made the troops careless, as it traversed between two Imperial planets, it had never been threatened, never once by the Republic nor the Federation. But pirates, on the other hand, were an insidious lot...

And Sargon was an apex marauder.

Secretly boarding the freighter whilst a number of his forces landed on the battle-scarred planet, he and his contingency comprised an additional front for the Oristicon Offensive. Stowed away amongst the labyrinth of crates, somewhere deep within a cargo hold near the bow storage of the massive ship, was a small cohort of Stryfe Loyalists, along with the Red Death himself; his crimson fluttered in absent wind, face hidden beneath his hood, giving him the impression of a phantom. Sargon stood in the shadow of a large hull brace, nearest the wall, uncomfortably serene as his force pressed their dark plastisteel cuirasses against the crates, keeping away from light and performed minimal movement. Blaster rifles raised and alert, the elite shocktrooper battalion known as Stygian Sons, awaited their master’s orders.

The silence was interrupted by the yawning of the ship, as it began to turn towards a cargo bay amidst the lunar fortresses. The black eyes of the battalion looked upon the fearsome figure of Stryfe, who, in a durasteel clad hand, motioned effortlessly with the wave of his gauntlet. His words boomed like sandstorm “Seize the command center and reenter space, direct course for Oristicon. If intercepted...full speed into a capital ship and may Kad Ha’rangir welcome you to his hall. You have your orders.”

Sargon then, to the sound of surprise blaster fire, streams of scarlet spewing from blasters as the Stygian Sons rampaged forward, towards their target, his heavy boots guided him quickly towards the shuttle bay.

_______________

______

Durbon One was on high alert, the Cornucopia alerting the base of the attempting ransacking, allowing a small manned shuttle to soar several hundred meters from the freighter and to rendezvous with that nefarious crescent, the Dawn Eater, inside an enormous crater just outside a fortification. As the landing bridge stabilized, Sargon’s attire contrasting heavily with the neutral white of his surroundings, was met by an officer prior to a speedy take-off.

“Sapphire City is under siege, but your forces are heavily outnumbered, even in the event of overwhelming success, we cannot hope to occupy the city for more than a few days time.” The Officer exclaimed.

Darth Stryfe retorted “I doubt we shall be there before the next sunrise...I want that city in ashes.”

The officer struggled to see the point of the matter, secretly he pondered the extent of his Lord’s madness. “But...Sir, I...I don’t understand the importance of this particular campaign, if in the end it was going to be leveled...we have a stockade of Mandalorian nuclear missiles, we could simply bombard the populace at a whim. And to what end? Why such, and I beg your pardon, unnecessary measures?”

Stryfe, face hidden behind his hood, only smiled, placing his hand lightly on the officer’s shoulder. “Propaganda...a War’s ultimate weapon.”

Thus, as they ascended the bridge, it was retracted behind them, then ion engines shot the vessel forward and into Oristicon’s atmosphere once again.

_______________

______

Fields of Oristicon...

Several Minutes Later...

Nightside...

As the Dawn Eater began a vertical launch behind him, the Red Raider moved forward and approached a LUX-3 landspeeder, a sport model overlander but before entering, watched as his personal ship carved through the sky and onward to begin another series of dogfights with his rivals’ TIE legions.

As he entered the vehicle, a HUD display appeared, and through an encrypted circuit, a squadron leader of the Nightbringers appeared on screen.

“My Lord, we are routing the enemy in the first borough, they are bunkering down...this may become problematic however, the troops had craved for a true task. The shocktroopers are in route to bring assistance and heavy weaponry, they shall be in positions as Miltiades’ land corps, the 104th, is due on arrival.”

“Excellent...and, the Sith?” Sargon sounded, curiously.

“Our intelligence indicates that they are attempting to breach the Rebel fortress, they shall be preoccupied. We hijacked the 82nd intelligence corps radar systems, and through some...motivation... we were able to trace a shuttle from the Imperator, with this in mind, we strongly believe that Miltiades’ has personally arrived. We have general coordinates of where the shuttle landed, and possibly his last position...”

Sargon merely said. “...patch over the coordinates. I would like to pay the old cur a visit.”

@darth_impero:

Just as Decimus was about to be overrun a storm of lightning split the air. Oristicon defense forces fell in droves. Emplaced guns fell silent and this bought Decimus the precious seconds he needed to activate the shield projector. A blue half-bubble popped into place and in the shocked silence after the rain of lightning decimated the Oristicon forces thousands of boots rumbled across the soil as storm troopers charged through the crack and dived into the trench Decimus had cleared with his saber.

The Lord lead the way. Ruby blade burned in the thickest of the close quarters fighting under the cover of the shield generator. A squad of engineers shoved their way through the narrow gap and begin installing a second, larger generator as well as multiple power packs to provide cover when the original shield generator failed under the weight of the fire that was now pelting it.

Yard by yard the Empire drove Oristicon back. The battle raged for hours but eventually it was done; the Empire held the Gate.

@sargon_stryfe:

The war raged. Alabaster armored assault troops dug in. Sandbags were piled atop one another to block off alleyways and basements became bunkers. Great slabs of shattered duracrete became barricades. Each squad radioed their position to command which marked them on a holomap.. and dialed in the artillery for support.

This was the web.

In the center was the spider. Tall and grey-haired. Dressed in simple, but elegant garb. He stood upon a dias in the middle of the command chamber. His eyes were closed. His thoughts lost to meditation.

All things were possible through the force and as the 104th ringed the city he begin the first stages of his battle meditation. Were he not interrupted soon his trap would be sprung.

@lord_decimus:

Together, like a rolling mist of death, sorcerer and warrior - the Force and durasteel - tore through the enemy ranks like a storm. The smell of cooked flesh and burnt bone hung thick in the air, victims of Darth Impero's wave of Force lightning. Those who survived met eyes with the red glare of Lord Decimus' lightsaber - and were butchered for it. And as the heat of electricity cooled in his body, Impero called forth a common power of the Force, basic in the hands of a novice, but deadly in the hands of a master; telekinesis. So hands as black as night stretched out into the air, and Impero seized fifty enemy soldiers with an invisible grip wrapped tight round their joints. His energy hummed a low tune, and he flattened them on the ground.

And as the Force held his enemies against the dirt, Impero's men delivered them to death with flashes of red and bolts of laser fire. Again and again, men fell, some his and many theirs. So as time flowed and the corpses piled in mounts of flesh that'd soon rot, Darth Impero and Lord Decimus would come to hold the Gate. Black cloak tattered, armor scratched and chipped, the Hollow Lord turned to meet eyes with the beast of a man standing by his right. The disgraced son of Darth Miltiades. But perhaps there was yet hope for Lord Decimus. Perhaps in the ancient Sith temple Impero would lay claim to they would unearth a knowledge - a secret - of the Force that could restore something of what Lord Decimus once was. Such a beast, even with a fraction of the power he once had could prove useful. Most of all as a mad dog to point Miltiades' way should he one day stand in his way.

After all, the hatred in Lord Decimus' heart burned hottest for the father who'd disowned him. "The soldiers are best left here in the trenches to guard it", Impero advised, poised but feeling the ambition - his passion for the Force - coursing hot through him. "The temple however, is for us, for those worthy of the secrets inside".

Fent's ploy worked, somewhat. An attacking Jedi did appear to draw a significant amount of localized attention relatively near to her location; but given the degree of separation of the two Jedi and size of the enemy force, its effect was much less pronounced within the localized area Aelia had carved out for herself. Not only that, but the empire's troops worked like men possessed. Whatever was ahead of them, its acquisition was important enough, their training disciplined enough, that they could hardly be deterred from the path the Sith had set them on.

The whole job would've gone far more smoothly, Aelia thought, if they'd brought a larger force with which to siege the Imperials and acquire their own target. Empire space was so inconvenient.

She spent fifteen minutes prior to initiation just observing for vulnerabilities, but even with the first handful of kills Aelia had no luck save for that which she made on her own. Most of the Empire's soldiers were taller than she was, thicker than she was, or both. In the end her disguise was comprised of a myriad of parts from various bodies, imperfectly fitted together over her clothes to help fill in more space beneath the armor. It was heavy and her movements became awkward under its weight. This required periodic enhancement under the force to keep from exhausting or drawing undue attention to herself when in the presence of other troops.

It was worth every bit of discomfort, however, for in seizing a trooper's equipment Aelia acquired a communications device. Its effect was twofold but mainly drove home the need for urgency on her behalf. While the Imperials fought wave after wave for control of the gates Aelia forced her way to the front of the pack where she too could be ordered to and through the trenches—halting, as an alien but distinctly identifiable feeling reverberated through the Force. She'd felt displays of power not entirely unlike those in the valley but what she felt there sent the Padawan a shock that bordered on physical pain. She hadn't laid eyes on them yet but the realisation froze her in place. They were dealing with not one, but two Sith well beyond what Aelia knew she could overcome.

"What's your damage, soldier?" A voice accompanied a sudden bump as another of the alabaster troops took up beside her.

"Nothing! I'm fine. I'm...waiting for further orders," the Jedi offered, trying to match the soldier's tone as much as she could.

What was probably no more than a second or two under the glare of his expressionless helmet felt like eternity before he responded, "Waiting? Move it, runt! We're almost through! The last thing you want is to piss off one of these guys or Darth Miltiades by not pulling your weight."

But again Aelia felt frozen in place. Oristicon was Miltiades' conquest. That changed everything. But he wasn't either of the two waiting up ahead. That meant there were not two, but three powerful Sith overseeing the operation on Oristicon. Aelia'd dreamed of revenge but even hatred couldn't have blinded her that much. This mission stood almost no chance of success from the very beginning.

She thought of the governor. Of the Supreme Chancellor, and all the eyes in the galaxy she imagined watching for her success or failure. Before she realised it, her feet were moving and Aelia was calling on the force to mask her presence from those around her, lest the Sith also detect her presence. Regardless of the magnitude of the odds against her, she doubled down on her resolve. There has to be a way. A Jedi never gives up.

If she could only just set eyes on them first...

One more step.

One more step and you'll be there.

You'll be where the Darths are.

You'll be where they can see you.

Rebel lasfire scorched his armor. Grenades pockmarked the already broken ground. The Mandalorian shouted something in his native tongue, slashing through the air on wings of flame. He cut down a handful of rebels. Bled them dry with his vibro-sword. Burned the rest to cinders. Jhen took up arms. Squeezed the trigger once. Twice. Bursts of red light came from in front of him. He didn't mind where they landed, so long as they landed. Connected with something softer than the stone around him. He could feel the pulse of the contact. It was a certain snap in the air. It felt crisp. Hot.

"For the Rebellion!"

A rebel ran up to him, grappling Jhen in the stomach area. He wouldn't let go, no matter how many times Jhen hit him with the butt of his rifle or shot him in the stomach with his pistol. This was his death grip. On his shoulder was a belt of grenades. All of them were primed.

Jhen lay across from the Mandalorian who led him here. His cybernetic leg was on the other side. It was basically a metal weight now. His arm and chest bled profusely. Burns were claiming much of his face and torso. He wasn't going to live for very much longer. The Mandalorian was already dead, claimed in the name of the death god he spouted on about. Jhen was an idiot to follow him, he thought, clutching his stomach. Ripples of napalm spat around him. Plasteel melted to his flesh.

Strangely cold.

The Imperial ships above him moved on. He reached up towards his head and folded his fingers against his brow.

He couldn't stand, not in his condition. A shame.

There is a great wound in the Force here on Oristicon.

The fires are roaring, smoke choking entire habblocks. Streets are stained red. Though he knew of the ultimate fate of those who passed here, many of them went screaming into death. Many suffered. The Empire did not spare any it came across. Like a great oncoming wave of death, it sent shockwaves through the Force.

Vatian Raas felt it all the way from Thaal. He did not want to leave it up to fate. His visions of this day finally came to fruition as he exited hyperspace on that lonely Federation shuttle. He knew he would not die here. His hyperspace signature was just vague enough to alert nearby battleships. Their turbolasers turned only slightly. Better to strafe against a single shuttle or continue to bombard the surface of the tortured world?

Fighters suddenly eclipsed the craft as it entered through the atmosphere. It came down in a hurtling ball of fire from which none emerged. None but Vatian. Always, Vatian. His sentinels were dead. Long veterans of a ten-year service, friends and extended family.

He would mourn them later. For now he endeavored to guard their corpses as the fighters rained ever more destruction upon his isolated last stand. Assault craft such as they possessed powerful laser technology, but blasters they were despite the weight behind the concussive bolts. He unsheathed his saber in an emerald flash.

"I came here to bury the dead of Oristicon within the Force," he asked of his surroundings.

"I did not want to add to the graves,"

Soresu. The Way of the Mynock. Defensive. A staple of the Jedi Order. The Force is called upon to take the wielder of the form from one end of the universe to the other. Though, it is not the wielder that makes that decision. The Force comes to the Soresu master, flowing in an out as water. Whether that direction is opposite, or reactive, possesses the power of a droplet or a raging typhoon, that is for the Force to decide. All the wielder is doing is performing the act of conduit. The man known as Vatian Raas ceased to be under that unremitting hailstorm of fighter-flak and laser fire. A hornet's nest of concussive bolts meant to rip apart enemy ships, and the Force guided him from one side to the other. Once, twice, a few times did he reflect these bolts back to the source.

They hit their marks, as guided by the Force. Vatian had no say in it. Whether he lived or died was up to the cosmic power he channeled. That he allowed to move through him in the way of Soresu. That was the way of the Third Form, in its most primal essence.

By the end, three fighters were crashed around him. Their pilots emerged from the wreckage, surrendering.

"Please, just kill us before the Darths find you Jedi. They'll kill all of us when they do. Give us one last taste of battle, so that we may find honor in it,"

Vatian's eyes were hot with tears that would not come. He sheathed his blade.

"Jedi?"

"I am no Jedi. You still have a chance, to prove yourselves to your masters. You shot down a Federation craft. That much is certain. Now..." he swallowed down the heat from his face, but it only came back as his throat clasped shut. "Go."

They each nodded and ran, perhaps to tell of Vatian's presence here, perhaps to join the fight elsewhere.

But of the Governor of Thaal, he would sit. He would meditate. He would weep without crying.

And he would try to bring an end to this by weakening as many soldiers as he could through his connection to the Force.

(Battle Meditation: Weaken Enemy, Turn 1)

@darth_impero:

The air was thick with smoke and the moans of the wounded. Decimus deactivated his saber and hung the heavy hilt upon his belt. "Agreed."

He summoned an officer with a hand.

"Sir!"

"Dig in here soldier. Bring in the emplaced weapons and shield generators. And repair the controls to the gate."

"The prisoners?"

"Execute them."

"Of course sir."

"Dismissed."

He returned to Darth Impero. A dark fire still smoldered in his eyes. Embers of hatred glowed beneath his hood. "The temple lies buried under the seven fortresses but now that we have breached the gate we can access the cavern system beneath. Too cramped to move men or supplies through but two may pass."

The fallen son lead the way down a twisting labyrinth of dusty maintenance tunnels and storage rooms thick with cobwebs until he reached a spot marked upon his holo-map.

He ignited his saber and the beam burned crimson in the dim light of the flickering glowlamps upon the wall. The ruby blade pierced the duracrete wall and molten rock ran down and pooled upon the floor as he carved a hole large enough for himself and Impero. At last a doorway was carved out of the wall and he kicked the slab of duracrete over and lead the way, saber held overhead.

The red light illuminated the twisting, turning interior of the underground cavern. A maze of stone slick with slime.

"The fortress was by expanding and fortifying natural caverns. But the water that first carved those caverns was runoff from snowmelts on the peaks above. That water had to go somewhere and it ended up washing around the waterproof fortresses and creating these caverns. Useful-- but they cannot be accessed from outside the mountain."

@lord_decimus:

The anger boiling the blood that ran in Lord Decimus' veins was rarely seen - even by Sith eyes. Anger at his father for spurning him, at the Force for embarrassing him, and anger at himself, Impero imagined, for losing his once feared power. Anger Impero sought to weaponize and point at Darth Miltiades himself.

All in due time.

For Lord Decimus - like most Sith - lacked control. Control that Darth Impero had achieved only by confronting the emotions that his heart had once so easily surrendered to. Where the Jedi ignored the heart and the Sith yielded to it, Impero mastered it. In time, he would teach Lord Decimus to do the same. Meeting a gaze that simmered more like molten pits than human eyes, Impero stood in contrast to Lord Decimus - a heart of ice to one of raging fire. "Then only two shall pass", he agreed, turning at the heel to follow Decimus' stride. Behind him, Darth Impero trailed like a shadow come to reap all knowledge from the fortress walls. They walked and turned in a place that smelled of dust and years till a wall greeted them in defiance.

Lord Decimus' saber came alive with a hiss and red glow, and the wall knelt before it's power, cut down and left to lie with the dust and molten rock about them. Passing through the hole, Impero swept his sharp gaze through the cavern and glimpsed at the slime on the walls. Slime like the kind farmed by the Sauvax and oozed by Morodins. But Impero thought little of it and instead caught Lord Decimus' certainty that few had entered the fortress before. "Good", Impero said, deep voice echoing over the low hum of Lord Decimus' saber. "It wouldn't do to have the Hand of Andeddu here, pillaging this place for their nonsense blood rituals". Stepping forward, his narrowed gaze caught two Sithspawn statues. Twisted and covered in ash, they guarded the foot of a pathway.

"Sithspawn statues. It would seem then that the secrets here are of Sith alchemy", and perhaps, he chose not to say, a Sith sword'd be among the temple's treasures. A blade powered by the dark energies of the Force and a foil to the lightsabers he regarded with contempt. "Lead the way, Lord Decimus. You are more familiar with this place than I. And I imagine the treasures we find here will suit us both".