[Forum Game] Star Wars: Reign of the Sith

[Canadian_95_RTS]

Zaira Akashi was tired, but glad to be home. The Avalon had limped back to Boztrok after almost a week of close calls avoiding Republic patrols and others who would wish to ask questions, but she was finally back.

While every fiber of her being ached to go after Vespasian Legatta, work had more priority, and the time she was gone was sorely missed. She would need to catch up, and fast. A week in the criminal underworld could cause changes still felt years later. She knew exactly where she was going to go.

The Mynock Den bar, while not her office per se, sure felt like it sometimes. While she did have some proper administrating to do, the real work was done in the Mynock Den. Every deal, every alliance, every dollar of illicit profit, it all started there.

She walked in. Jorge was fortunately waiting the bar. “Hello, Zaira. Good to see you.” He was wisely avoiding the obvious, where she had been for the last week. He knew that if something came along that took her this long to finish, there was damn good reason.

“Thank you, Jorge. Any news?” Zaira asked.

“Not much. The rivalry on the surface has kept things quiet here. Stanton Maille was in, though.” He answered. Stanton Maille was a smuggler, a damn good one. That said, if he was looking to her, he either had something no one else needed to see (which she promised herself would not trick her again) or he was in big trouble. Whichever it was, she was going to find out.

Maille, as it turned out, was not hard to find. He had been spending credits like a madman, and when he wasn’t in the casino, he was drunk or stoned. Not that it was ever hard to find him. He was a tall man, over two meters tall. He had a heavy build, brown hair and eyes, and was quite muscular. He also had a mechanical arm that he had painted bright green. He stood out in crowds, no doubt.

He was sitting by a sabacc table. He had two girls by his side, one human, one Twi’lek. Both were cuddling up to him just a bit too close to be the genuine article. Escorts, Zaira assumed. Also by the table was a Rodian, two Wookies, and a Sith Pureblood. They all looked in various stages of distress and rage over the state of the table, save for Maille himself.

It was soon clear to see. He had the majority, by far, of the credits at the table. She was immediately suspicious of this, and looked around quickly. She soon found her mark, a quick glance by a nearby Twi’lek showed her all she needed to know. Maille was cheating, most likely, though they could not yet prove it. She had to intervene, and soon.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Stanton. What brings you here?” Zaira asked.

“A lot, actually. Just wait until this game is finished, I’ll tell you all about it.” Maille replied.

She got a nod from her contact. “No, you’re coming with me now.” She grabbed him by his shoulder. “Just go quietly, Stanton. You don’t want to make a scene.” He briefly considered his options, before going with her.

When they had left the casino, he immediately started talking. “Zaira, I was this close to winning big. I would have gotten rich. Filthy rich.”

“You would have gotten yourself killed. You were lucky I caught you before one of my staff did.” She responded. He didn’t have a good response to this, so she continued. “So, what brings you here?”

“Look, I’ve got some cargo that could make us both rich, but I can’t offload it. It’s too hot.” Maille said.

“What is it?”

“People. I stole a shipment of slaves from under the nose of some Hutts who will never know better. But they’re marked. I don’t know where I can offload them.” He explained.

It was quite a conundrum. The Hutts were the biggest buyers of slaves, save perhaps the Empire. Neither would care for a shipment like this, and the Hutts would want his head if they found out. She was tempted to give him up out of principle, since he had tried to cheat her station and pirated the merchandise. This wasn’t a good way to make friends, though, and sometimes friends were more important than anything in the business.

“Where are they marked?” Zaira asked.

“On the neck” Maille replied.

“Hmm. I think I have someone who can take off the brands. It will require some money, though.”

“If you hadn’t busted in like that, I would have had more than enough. As is, without the money I was betting, I’m almost broke.” He explained.

“You must think me a fool if you think I buy that. You have something in reserve. You always do.”

“I can’t this time, Zaira. I just can’t.” Maille said. It didn’t tell her anything, but she knew that when people were like this, they rarely wanted to talk.

“I’m not exactly in the most charitable mood at the moment, Stanton. You tried to cheat my clients out of money. You used up the last shred of goodwill you had with me getting this meeting.”

“Link Rowe would’ve done it.”

And that was strike three. She could deal with the piracy, and the fact that he had cheated at her casino. But no one, but no one, would say such a thing to her.

She would tip off the Hutt cartels to the theft, then allow a quiet hit on the under levels. If they were quick, they might even get back the cargo. It was more risk than it was worth as it was, and while she could arrange it so neither the Hutts nor the Sith had to know, it was a risk she would rather not take in this case.

She would string him along, of course. Otherwise he would leave the station. As of now, though... it was highly doubtful that he would ever leave the station alive.

 

[Ironhide G1]

Selene woke up in severe pain. She cried out, but seeing noons was around. Her hand was broken. She was chained in a room, head shaven, alone. She immediately thought, I have to get out of here. She had her necklace though, her last resort. She spoke into it almost inaudibly, "I am imprisoned. I can wait. Do not respond. You will know what to do. Ajax, the Left cabinet."

After this, seeing her chains, she closed her eyes, and meditated on the force. It began to shake.

***

After hearing the message, the Resistance had summoned him for discussion. Around the table they sat.Milady began, "We have been compromised. They will try make her confess. She is strong, but we may be compromised. As for escape, even should we break her out, if her head is shaven, she will obvious in the street. We must wait. We do have the tunnel for escape. Hero, I need you to leadacrew to set up a base for us in the wilderness where we can escape should we be compromise."

Then everyone else began to talk. While this was going on, Ajax, silently, walked up the stairs to his room. He grabbed several important items, before heading over to Selene's room, taking a few objects, then opening the left cabinet. He took out the lightsaber. It lit.

 

[Fingon888]

Hate​

The instructors insisted on instilling anger and hatred into their students. For most of Aria's peers this involved an emotional and physical breakdown to strip them of their soft and luxurious lives. It was almost cute to watch the instructor scream in her face while hitting her with a practice blade every time she failed to block an attack. He didn't know what it felt like to kill a man with a rusty four inch shiv, how it felt to have his blood drip on your hands and squirt from his neck.

That was a fun story, her first kill. Aria was six years old and living in an alleyway between a whorehouse and a drug operation, they were owned by the same gang. Her mother usually purchased food with her daily allotment along with the drugs. However, her mother had overdosed on spice two days earlier and was sleeping drugged out in the back of the whorehouse. Of course, this didn't stop her from working, just from getting paid for said work. A man appeared in the alleyway and propositioned the young Aria with food. When Aria refused he pulled a knife and attempted to force himself upon her. Acrobatic for her age, Aria jumped over a trashcan and grabbed at a rusty, bloody, and broken shiv. She held it in her hand hidden from view as the far larger and stronger man grabbed her and held her down. After a struggle Aria was left pinned by the huge sweating man with blood coming from a few scratches on her face and arms. She looked into the pig's eyes and knew what filth and rot lay there. She felt anger drip to her very core, she hated this creature and wanted nothing else than to destroy it. She had wanted to run earlier, now she wanted to kill. She thrust her shiv up into his neck and when she felt his warm blood she laughed. Aria pushed the dying man off of her and proceeded to stab him at least eight more times in the neck and chest. She rubbed the man's hot blood on her face and arms and stood smiling.

She was brought back to the present by the noise of her blocking the instructor's practice blade. Aria was suddenly hyper aware of the sounds around her. The noises of mock battle thundered in the hall. As the stream of abuse aimed at her was relegated to a muted tone she heard the most delicious of noises. One of the weakest excuses for a boy had just been hit by his instructor's practice blade and it had broken his leg. The bone snapped and the boy crumpled to the ground crying out like a wounded child. She smiled and refocused her effort at improving her swordsmanship. She would have to find that Damon boy and show him how a girl hits, this time with a practice blade.

 

[Noco19]

The Convocation​

As Lord Bromlin had desired, Convocation was heralded by quite a display. All the masters summoned their specific wards, and as orderly as could be managed with frightened, unruly, bloodied, and some outright dying beings, the little troupes of student - young and old, human and...others - made their way into the Grand Court, now adorned with brilliant banners of gold and purple. Attached to them hung the Imperial insignia, as well as the planetary symbol of Boztrok.

All of this however was overshadowed by Lord Bromlin, who stood tall before the Dusken Throne, adorned in fine and exotic silk robes, with a flowing purple cape. His golden mane of hair and his tight, well-detailed beard framed his near-jubilant face. It was abundantly clear that he was enjoying the moment, which wasn't exactly the general consensus on the part of the students, and even the masters, who sought to keep things orderly, fearful of the consequences. With a clearing of the throat, Lord Bromlin began in a booming voice.

"Good evening my children, and welcome to the Inaugural Convocation of the Boztrokian Academy! Cheer, for this is a historic moment, for both every single one of you, your families, and for the entire planet. Here we shall ascend those born with the gift, those who are superior, those who are connected with the Force. Rejoice, for your attendance here will be the greatest thing to ever occur in your lives. You all shambled in here, weak and directionless, possessing potential, but held back by ignorance, by weakness, and worst of all, by the Republic and their precious Jedi Guardians.

Some of you seem confused, for you all grown under the reign of a regime that has systematically indoctrinated an entire galaxy, into thinking that the Sith are your enemies, and that the Jedi are your protectors. This cannot be further from the truth. The Sith are your greatest allies, for we shall break you down and rebuild you greater than you ever were, or you will die, a pathetic life ended so others can prosper. But the Jedi would hold you back by archaic and arbitrary ideology, they would deny you your birthright, your inherent abilities and ambitions.

In time, you shall all see the grand vision of the Sith, and of myself. Of our dedication towards true freedom and power, towards a greater galaxy, unchained by the Jedi.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
​

Know this mantra, for it shall be teared into you by the end of your stay in my academy. I will prove to you all that I, and the Sith, are the road to the future, some of you sooner than others. Now rest my children, leave this hall and prepare yourself for what lies ahead."

With that, Lord Bromlin flourished his lightsaber, arching it into the air like a dazzling show, the violet mass floating through the hair, reflecting off the gold of the banners. With ease he caught, and gave an honest smile, very clearly being impressed with his "show".

______________________________

But this was not all that would transpire this night, as eight apprentices would find themselves approached by various masters, and given messages, assignments, tests that allowed them beyond the walls of the Palace and into the city, and beyond.

Spoiler: Children Damon Tarkin, Aria Darran, and Red

Long ago, the Kings of this world ruled with great decadence, constructing many monuments, even as far as the megaforests that extend beyond the civilization of the plainslands they call Knolls. They sought to show their wealth and power, claiming all lands, and within these massive structures were buried a great number of items of interesting importance.

And so I task you three with venturing forth, out into the wilderness to find and explore the great pyramid known as Ozzet Ma. As my studies tell me, this pyramid belonged to an ancient King, the very same known to have constructed the Library on our hollowed Academy, a scholarly King. If it is as I hope, he may possess records that would prove most valuable in learning more about the Old Dynasty that once ruled.

A transport ship will drop you off in as close a location as I believe Ozzet Ma to be. Learn from this.

- Lord Bromlin

Spoiler: Children Sek'nos Kressh, Selene Dyson, and Aylen Duval

As may be clear, the planet Boztrok is host to a myriad of undesirable and criminal elements, teeming some would say. But we shouldn't look at them as useless, no. Rather, they may be of use to our cause, of subjugation, if only they were to respect the power of the Sith. There are three main figures that I wish for you to seek out and contact - Lord Dolsot of the High Council, a man well-connected and a valuable asset, Lord Drooga the Hutt, and Zaavo the Hutt, two head-Hutts of Boztrokian crime, specializing in such activities as slaving, smuggling, and assorted vice-dealing. All three shall be expecting you, as I will announce to them my intention to send diplomats to earn their trust. How you accomplish so, we shall see. Perhaps you will split up, or tread slowly. Learn from this.

And Selene, do not think I haven't caught word of your transgressions. I am under the information that Apprentice Sek'nos shall keep a special eye on you. Neither of you should disappoint me.

- Lord Bromlin

Spoiler: Children Garen Cors and Jaren Mepou

The Boztrokian Militia is a fickle creature, comprised of little more than aristocrats with blasters. However, they in turn hold great sway, especially in the Knolls of the plainslands, the rural backwater lands of Boztrok. One of these militiamen, a Major Krandor, has recently spoken with myself, and in a moment of realization, I have discovered his worth. Major Krandor shall rendezvous with you, at his estate, as I believe his lineage permits such a thing. And with Krandor, I wish for you to eliminate a most annoying nuisance that has sprung up lately.

The Blazz'Kla as they call themselves are a band of thugs so lowly that I had to dig deep to find them. What interests me however is their leader - a Trandoshan named appropriately Blazz'Kla - who purports to have seen wild visions about ghost warriors. Typically nonsense I would normally assume, but as I hear it, before forming this gang, Blazz'Kla was once a treasure hunter, before he apparently found something of mystical antiquity. I want him captured and brought before me; I must know his secrets.

- Lord Bromlin

 

[AzagalTheGreat]

A Sith task, Part 1

A task given directly by Lord Bromlin ! For Sek'nos Kressh it was a honor to even think of such a thing. He quickly recovered from his euphoria though and started to formalize plans. The Human female known as Selene Dyson and the male known as Aylen Duval he ordered to go to their chambers and clean up, shave and wash themselves. He ordered a servant slave to bring him and his comrades a very specific set of clothing, upon which he went wash as well. When they eventually met they were not surprised. Fancy clothing, normally only worn by diplomats was now worn by Aylen Duval and Selene Dyson. He then told them the plan. They were to remain silent and say little, apart from Selene, who would be a secondary speaker in case Sek'nos needed a backup voice. Sek'nos and his crew theb went to the residence of the man known as Lord Dolsot.

The older man lived in a grand mansion, arguably the biggest on the entire planet. Sek'nos Kressh wondered if it was bigger then the Palace of Dusk. It did indeed. When they arrived on the front gate, they were directed to the speeders standing by. For the garden of the mansion of Lord Dolsot was so big, walking would take hours. He recieved them in his office. Though Office was not a proper naming for the place. It was as big as a throneroom, filled with recordings, star maps and many other items, and on the end of the room, a pile of credits. On that pile of credits sat Lord Dolsot, on his chair. It was an impressive sight to behold. Sek'nos Kressh and his party kneeled, and kindly introduced themselves :

My Lord, if I may introduce myself and my company, I am Sek'nos Kressh and these are my fellow apprentices Selene Dyson and Aylen Duval. We have come here on behalf of the Empire, to thank you. Due to your unpatriotic action the planet of Boztrok was quickly taken and bloodshed was minimalized. As a reminder of your loyal service to the Empire, it has been agreed that for now your less then legal affairs will be overlooked for the coming period, unless you commit actions that do not benefit the Empire. We would like to offer our official offer of assistance .

((Sek'nos Kressh awaits a reply, stands ready for commands along with the rest of the delegation@Dadarian and @Ironhide G1 (You can imput your own bit of dialogue here if you want, I just wrote mine)))
​

 

[Plutonium95]

Cipher Seven

​

Cipher Seven approached the run down building in the slums of Thokisl, wondering why her first meeting with the Minder would be taking place in what looked to be a crime den. On Ruuria her contact had met with her in a luxurious and popular night club, a place that was loud and busy enough that they would not be noticed. Shaking away the thought, she crossed the street cinching her long coat tighter against a gust of cold wind. She barely stopped as she passed the guards, providing the proper counter phrase to their question and knocking on the door.

The door opened, a pair of female Ciphers who appeared to be identical twins sat on a table behind a man whom she could only assume was Minder 17. His back was turned to her as he fumbled around with a datapad in front of the desk monitor, looking over case files as a cold caffa sat on the desk behind him. Hearing the durasteel door open he turned and smiled warmly as he swiveled his chair to face her. Rising as his chair came to a stop and beginning greet her with the question, “I assume you’re the Cipher transfer that Keeper told me to expect? Seven is it?”

“That’s right,” she responded, stepping further into the room, “And that must make you Minder Seventeen?” Seven had been expecting someone older, after all, the man in front of her was in charge of all Intelligence operations on planet, but he looked to be about her age, perhaps younger.

“That would be correct,” Minder 17 nodded, passing her his Ministry issued I.D. marked with the black letter ‘M’ followed by a ‘17’ he stopped for a moment and took a sip of his dismal caffa before continuing, “If you don’t mind, may I see yours?”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she said as she unbuttoned her coat, revealing clothing typical to a native of Boztrok, and pulled her I.D. card from her pocket, all while lamenting the obvious lack of fashion sense on the planet. She smiled as she slid the card across the desk to him. “I have to admit, carrying that around makes me a little nervous, like someone will see it and find out I’m with I.I.”

“It’s good that you worry about the locals finding out you’re I.I., because from this moment forth, if they do…” he pauses a moment to inhale a breath, “I.I. will burn the whole operation and probably us with it. I assume however, you know that already?”

Cipher Seven nodded quickly. “Yes, the importance secrecy was explained to me when I was brought on as an Informer. And I understand how important it is that the integrity of the operation be preserved,” she took a deep breath and folded her hands behind her back, raising an eyebrow at him. “So… what exactly is the operation?” She could guess, knowing how recently the world had fallen to Imperial forces and the likelihood that there would be an element resisting them, but she had been given hardly any information beyond a way to contact 17 before being shipped off.

“The technical details of our assignment would be to, ‘root out treason’ and the usual. Chances are, if you’ve been assigned to this operation, the Minister of Intelligence wanted you out of the way.” Minder 17 said with a heavy sigh, “However, Keeper has further assigned us the additional objective to monitor Lord Bromlin and his Sith Academy... To be honest with you about the ‘real’ operation, Keeper believes that there are traitors in the midst of the Sith here on Boztrok.”

“I assume that I will have the normal degree of freedom in attempting to achieve this goal?” Cipher Seven began looking around the room as she spoke, taking in her surroundings.

“Yes, however, I’d suggest you leave this behind,” Seventeen nodded, holding up her Ministry I.D. card, “After all, we wouldn’t want to get caught and burned.”

Cipher Seven considered that for a moment, before taking the card back from him, quickly tucking it into her pocket. “I'll keep it somewhere safe, don't worry.” She said confidently.

“I certainly hope you do… For all of our sakes.” he nodded with a friendly smile, “But, I don’t suppose you wouldn’t mind handing me my I.D. card back?” noticing that she had ‘forgotten’ to return it to him.

She laughed, returning the card. “Just wanted to see if you would notice, that's all.” She smiled, at least a little happy to see he wasn’t just some easily distracted son of some higher-up in I.I. “I think this mission will go well.”

“I certainly hope so,” Seventeen replied, “However, it worries me that Lord Bromlin hadn’t sweeped the Apprentices for traitors before hand... so for all we know the treason on this backwater world could go all the way to the top, or he’s an incompetent fool, take your pick.”

She nodded in agreement, the dossier she’d read on the man and his actions had raised some flags in her mind as well. “It’s certainly possible, or the sith lords are doing some scheming of their own without informing us, which I can't say would surprise me.”

Seventeen nodded, “However, I can’t see a scheme that would involve bringing in and training potential traitors that isn’t treasonous in itself. The longer they remain in training, the more powerful they become, and what if they turned that power against the imperial garrison? We already know that the masses are starving, all it would take is the right match to spark a rebellion here. We’re sitting on a powder-keg and Bromlin is playing with fire.”

“Then we’ll have to figure it out before that can happen,” She ran a hand through her dark hair, thinking. “I'll have to find a way into the academy, but with the way he's been expanding it I doubt that will be a hard task, all those students will require staff to look after them.”

“I suppose you’re not a native to the Empire? Sith Academy staff, well… they’re all Sith. There of course is the occasional mix of Imperial guards on campus, which would be your best way in, however…” he trails off, looking her up and down for a moment, “I would question whether or not that’s a cover you could naturally pull off... Anyways, I’d rather have you find a way into the Governor’s palace, the staff is far more diverse and I am currently looking at other ways to get information out of the Academy without deploying any Agents. Nonetheless my best Cipher.”

The two twin Ciphers behind him look up, clearly ticked at his last remark, but they simply choose to remain silent. Although the smug smile written subtly across his face says that their disapproval did not go unnoticed.

“Us men and women of Imperial Intelligence, we’re not natives to anywhere, are we?” She asked with a smirk. “To the point, I had thought more that the students at the Academy would require food, clean clothing, things like that, but I'm happy to defer to your judgement. If the Governor’s Palace is the better choice then I'll begin looking at it as well.” She shrugged. “Can’t be too hard considering the number of staff a building like that must require.”

“The Sith Academy does keep servants on hand for the more trivial tasks, true, however I’d rather avoid seeing the abuses done to the servants be done to a Cipher if it can be avoided,” Seventeen said, stopping to take another sip from his Caffa, “Sadly, our leads are… Negligible. The Republic didn’t exactly keep records of their citizens on hand and Lord Bromlin’s reckless round-ups didn’t exactly leave us any official mission debriefings. However… I can be fairly sure of the loyalty of a handful of students who were transferred from separate Academies. Sadly, despite their loyalty to the Emperor I also expect that they are loyal to Lord Bromlin and would hesitate in giving us significant evidence.”

“There are ways to get information without making people think they are giving up anything worthwhile,” Seven said thoughtfully, “in some cases at least. Someone will be willing to talk once I convince them to trust me, I've done it before.”

Minder Seventeen chuckled for a moment, “Sadly, I doubt you’d… stand-up to their standards, so to speak.”

“Why's that?” She laughed along with him, surprised to find herself at ease around a Minder of the Imperial Intelligence. “Who's to say I can't shoot lightning from my fingertips when I get mad, I've never tried.”

“The problem isn’t exactly that you’re not force sensitive… But rather your, and mine for that matter, racial ethnicity.” He sighed, “As I’m sure you know from experience by now, Sith ‘purebloods’ have a tendency to spit-down on humans, and it would seem that Lord Bromlin has selected non-other than Sith ‘purebloods’ for his academic transfer. Anyways, should you discover an inherent ability to ‘shoot lightning from your fingertips when you get mad’ I’d suggest you keep it under wraps on this planet, and especially in those... ” He nodded to her local attire, “Wouldn’t want to be picked up by the authorities in one of their round-ups, now would you?” He finished with a laugh.

“That may be exactly want we want, think of all I could find out, a shame it seems so unlikely,” Seven said with a shrug, putting her hands in the pockets of the over-sized coat, a rough outline of a plan already beginning to take shape in her mind. “Is there anything else I should know before we start to get this show on the road?”

“No, not in particular, though I should remind you that if any of us are to be caught or captured we had nothing to do with the Ministry and that the Ministry has no operations running here on Boztrok,” Minder 17 stated, taking another sip from his caffa, “All in all, we were never here.”

“Understood Minder,” She agreed, with a slight bow of her head, “I’ll be sure to keep in touch throughout the mission. And good luck with the rest of your agents.” She laughed quietly, nodding to the twins.

“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll need it,” the Minder replied with a chuckle, “And god-speed, Seven.”

 

[Corman50]

Some Luck​

Esslest stood partially concealed on the bridge, the only light given off by the lamps placed in the room. The lamps themselves are facing the various displays and consoles, all of whom were being worked on by the ship's crew members. The sound of rewiring and light construction fills the room, the sound almost completely masks the Colonel's voice as he asks "How much longer?"

"Not much longer sir" a technician replies. Right after the monitors spring to life, followed by the interior lights. The room is now completely visible, though the sight itself is not impressive. Various dents and debris laid throughout the room and while most of the monitors were online, some were cracked and a handful were completely destroyed. The most noticeable thing in the room however is the shattered window. On the other side one can the see the stone of a mountain interior.

After surveying the now properly lit room Esslest states "The Force must have been with us to have survived this crash" Upon hearing this one of the technicians asks the one next to him "How did we survive the crash anyway? I'm thankful we did but in most scenarios I've heard of involving a ship crashing into a mountain the ship explodes"

"You make it sound like we fell straight into the mountain side from orbit."

"Didn't we, basically at least?"

"No! The ship's emergency thrusters slowed the descent when we enter the planets orbit!"

"Was that all it took?"

"Well the fact we also plowed through quite a few trees also helped. But I think the main reason is because the part of mountain we did hit was the wall of a pretty big cave system."

"Still there was a significant layer of rock we had to go through"

"That's was easy for this ship. We might call them tin cans, but definitely not what they're made of. If this thing can hold up against concentrated turbolazer fire, then a couple layers of rock would be nothing"

"Still it's surprising..." At this point the conversation is interrupted by a fellow crew mate when he tells them the Colonel is about to speak. With this statement the two turn around to see Esslest standing in a commanding position looking at a newly online holographic projector.

"Alright, listen up!" he shouts with authority "For all intents and purposes this ship will never fly again. That means we're stranded in enemy occupied territory. You've all trained for this scenario, our first priority is securing a temporary base of operations. While the Imperials haven't located the crash site yet, we can't stay as the ship will be a massive target. So we're going to send a scouting party to find a more secure location, one away from most forms of enemy surveillance. Once they've located a suitable location we will take any equipment and sensitive intel to said location and set up an FOB. Now, Lieutenant whats our intel on the planet."

With that a crewman in an officer's uniform directs attention to the hologram, which currently displays an image of Boztrok. "The world we currently reside on is Boztrok, a terrestrial planet with a sizable population." He presses a button and the display zoom in with a tactical view of the immediate area. On the display the ship itself is highlighted in red. "Based on the telemetry recorded by the ship's computer before going offline, we've determined the vessel to be here. We lie in a densely forested area outside the region marked hear as 'The Knolls'. The Knolls themselves are sparsely populated with series of scattered Rural settlements, this means that this will be likely region for the FOB. While currently have no solid recent intel we have to assume the enemy have taken control of the planetary government so avoid contact with any local forces, that is all."

"Thank you Lieutenant." Esslest replies "Alright people, I'll be assembling a scouting party shortly. In the mean time, keep working on recovering the ship's systems. The more we can recover beforehand the better off we'll be when it's time to move out."

 

[Ironhide G1]

A New Outlook

Survival is my most important task, thought Selene alone in her room. I must cooperate, and hopefully one day I will escape. She knew of the new task ahead of her. She would play along with the Sith, till the time was right to break free. She pulled a long brown cloak from her closet, and prepared a bag, with her necklace and a message. On her way to the diplomatic mission she quickly set a package down outside her house for the resistance when Sek'nos Kressh was not looking. In a second it was done. As she continued walking on his mission, she thought to herself, I will do what I must to survive.

Spoiler: Message she left

Dear friends,

I would like to apologize for compromising us. I am fine for now. I may escape later, but for now I must play along with their plans. Hopefully I will not be caught. Thank you for everything you have done, keep fighting the good fight. I will try my best. I will be herby going around cloaked and hooded. I will do what I need to survive. May the force be with you.

-Selene Dyson

PS.Ajax, I love you.

 

[Canadian_95_RTS]

Zaira had gone over the video from the Deep Core fiasco several times now. Vega had been kind enough to give it to her after the attack. Of course, he wanted the people who attacked them dead as much as she did. That said, there was nothing. No markings, no distinctive patterns. The pirate fleet that attacked them was just like a thousand others. In fact, it was almost too generic. That said, the patterns of attack wouldn't help. The resolution wasn't good enough to get any footage of the pilots faces, so it was mostly a dead end.

Legatta wasn't any better. While he had stopped on a small Mid Rim supply station, from there, his destination was unknown. He declared a destination of course, that was the law. But he never showed up there. There would be no way for her to track his progress at that point. He could be anywhere, and looking for him would be like looking for a needle in a planet covered in haystacks.

She used her connections as best as possible. She asked whoever would know, whether he had gone to them to help him disappear or to purchase a piece of land where he would never be found. She also asked around for what he was doing before he called for her. No luck there, either. he had covered his tracks too well. She put a bounty on his head, alive of course. No one got to kill the bastard but her.

She was getting ready to look over the footage another time, to see if there was something she missed, but just then she got a call on her commlink. She answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, Zaira Akashi." The voice replied.

"Do I know you?" Zaira asked.

"No, but I know you. Your reputation precedes you. My name is not important for now, but you can call me Wyvern for now." He replied.

"So, what can I do for you, Wyvern?" Zaira asked.

"It's not what you can do for me, although you can do plenty. It's what I can do for you. I know where Vespasian Legatta is. Or was, at least, a week ago."

That was interesting. He could cover up his tracks, but likely would not do so for very long. There was no point. At some point, it became more expensive and tiresome to do it than was warranted. If she knew where Legatta was a week ago, she could catch up to him much better. But the clock was ticking. "Everything comes at a price. I imagine you have yours."

"Of course. I would be able to get this information for you, but I need a certain item that would otherwise be impossible to get. But you seem to know how to find things no one else can."

"What do you need?"

"A cloaking device."

Zaira stifled a cough. Cloaking devices were rare, and very expensive. She had been doing work like this for years, and even she hadn't come across one. "I think you may be overestimating the value of your information, here. That kind of equipment is outside what its worth."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll pay for it. I'll even pay your usual 'finder's fee'. I just need it, and soon." Wyvern clarified.

"Even at that, I'm not sure I could get one. They aren't common around here. Even at that, the imperials pick up any they find."

"It's my price. Take it or leave it."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good." And he quickly ended the conversation.

She needed to find a cloaking device, of that she was certain. There would be no better chance. It would be hard, but she would do it. Because she was Zaira Akashi, and she promised to get Legatta, and she would. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.

 

[Sneakyflaps]

The Knowledge of Old​

Damon had been woken up early by his master, he wanted to train Damon one last time before the mission. The master had been joyful of the news that his apprentice had been given a task, that he had proven worthy, as he meant it reflected well on him as a master. The master had even stopped beaten Damon for the last 2 days, wanting to ensure his wounds were healed, and that his spirit was ready so that he would not fail Lord Bromlin. Damon had been given a new outfit as well, proper black clothing, as well as a training saber. With him, Damon had taken a vibrosword as well, the training saber was good and all, but lacked the finer edges for proper combat should it come to it. The shuttle in which was to take him to the old pyramid was nothing special, and it certainly wasn’t a combat craft, to sum it up, it was awfully dull. Together with him were his two fellow students. The first one was Red, a quiet girl, one that Damon was not sure if it was by choice or force, on the plus side it meant that she wouldn’t make noise during the trip. The other girl was Aria, one who was not very tall, not too short either, athletic and quite cocky, and obviously willing to give a beating, which was evident from their last encounter. Perhaps this would give him the chance to test if he was right, if violence truly was her kick, if it was what got her off. They had been taken out towards the ancient pyramid. Dropped off at the furthest outwards Sith Base, still some time away from the forests. They had walked all day, ever since they landed as the plains began to fade out slowly and they approached deeper and deeper forest. So far only some trees here and there, minor forest had been present, and a farm was still ahead of them before they reached the end of civilization. Red had been with them at the start, but had early diverted from the two others.

Aria walked alongside Damon wearing essentially the same clothing with her hood pulled up over her head. She looked at the farm as they were passing by it. “Say, Damon it’ll be a long hike to the pyramid, how about we take some food from that farm?”

He stopped and looked at the farm. “We can if you wish, I doubt the family living there would be overly enjoyed.” He turned towards her. “Did you forget to pack any food, or are you just feeling extra hungry?”

“Eh, it’ll be alright. We can pass it over it. How far is the pyramid from here?” Aria sighed, looking at the seemingly endless trees. He was surprised, he thought it would take more, perhaps she did lack food, bad news, or simple a bad beaten by her master.

Damon chuckled. “You are awfully easy to deter, here I thought you might have insisted. Do you think the fight for the food would be worth it?” He asked curiously. “And it’s probably another day or so, depending on our pace.”

She grinned and started walking towards the farm, “A day is a long walk, we should feast before the exploration. After all, you’ve never had authentic Boztrokian ham from the farms. I mean, neither have I.” She looked behind her at Damon, “The direct or indirect approach?”

He walked up next to her, grinning. “Depends.” He said before he looked at her. “What will get you a kick.” He said as he walked onwards to the farm.

Aria rolled her eyes, “Where do you get this idea that violence turns me on?” She punched him and walked ahead, opening the gate in the fence. She stood beside the door and looked at him. Aria simply said, “Direct” and kicked the door in. Inside the family were eating dinner and suddenly began screaming and scrambling. The father rushed forward at the pair of Sith apprentices and shouted. Aria sent a lance of force lightning into his body, forcing him to the ground where he writhed in pain. “Do not think to deny a Sith her bounty. Bring us supplies or face our wrath!” Damon was left wondering, was her aim to spare him, torture him, or did she simply lack the juice to outright kill him.

The mother saw the sight of her now screaming husband, covering the eyes of her children as best she could before nodding. “Get the boy to his room, now!” Damon said as the mother did as she was told. “Nicely done.” Damon said as he went over to the farmer and knelt down, looking at him.

Aria went to the table and took a bite of ham. “Excellent. I will go and get some drinks from the cellar. Oh and tell him to cooperate or I’ll do the same to his daughters.” Aria said as she walked out of the room and down the cellar stairs.

Damon went closer to the farmer as Aria left, began to whisper into his ear. “Why would such a dumb oaf like you ever think you could take us on? Have you no regard for the lives of your family. You heard her, imagine the sight. Your lovely daughters in front of my friend, getting fried while you watch, and trust me, my friend is not a kind person like I am.”

The farmer spat in his face. “Enjoy it while it lasts, the resistance will kill you soon enough!”

Damon chuckled. “There it is, I knew the way you charged at Aria, the way you charged, it was taught, simple, easy and with little effect, but still taught. Where are your weapons?” The farmer didn’t bother answering and Damon’s patience was tiring more and more. Damon raised his hand slightly as a grip formed around the farmer’s throat, tightening by the second as he began gasping for air, while clawing at his throat before finally nodding over towards a closet. Damon stood up, lifted his hand and moved the closet towards him, knocking it over onto the ground as he saw an inbuilt room behind it. He went over and opened it, seeing some weapons inside he saw a vibrosword, he took it and threw it to the farmer, while also taking his own sword into his hand. “Pick it up.” Damon said, “No sport in killing you otherwise.” The farmer looked at him, not moving made Damon raise his hand, choking him again and then letting go, making the farmer pick up the weapon.
The farmer charged forward again, running with great speed hoping to kill Damon, but it was of little matter. The duel lasted for a short amount of time, mainly with Damon blocking, parrying twice before hitting down on the farmers vibrosword, striking it out of his hand. Then delivering a clean, swift, strong strike to the farmers neck, cutting it from his shoulders. As Damon turned around, the farmer’s wife stood with her mouth closed and eyes wide open, it only took a moment before she started letting out a deafening scream. Aria came running up shortly after to investigate with a flask of some alcoholic beverage. “Wow, and I thought I was sadistic. What’d you use, a practice saber?” She walked forward and picked up the man’s head. Damon looked at her for a moment, as if that could cut that cleanly, useless blunted edges.

“Vibrosword.” Damon said before hushing the wife and sending her out of the room. He went over to Aria, took a beverage and opened it, before going back to the body. At the body he knelt down again, touching the body and standing back up, going back to her. He grinned while taking the head and throwing it to the side, his right hand bloody as he took his thumb and drove it over Aria’s forehead, leaving a blood trail, and then doing the same to himself, before taking his drink, putting it to her lips and slowly moving it upwards. “Drink.” He said as his grin widened.

She drank a deep gulp. “You want to see something I’ve been working on?”

He smiled, “Always.”

She walked over and burst open the door into where the wife and her three kids were hudled together on the floor. The wife whimpered out a plea for mercy while Aria’s eyes turned orange and she held up her hands at her sides. The lightning surrounded them and she shot a shock that hit the wife first and then arched between all the kids, sending them all screaming in pain to the floor, except for the smallest girl who screamed and died from the electrocution. She pulled her practice saber and hit the wife’s head, busting most of its contents onto the floor. “Impressive, huh?” Aria killed off the remaining two children shortly thereafter, electrocuting them as well, with pure glee. They spent the remainder of the night there, among corpses that slowly began to rot, and flies coming at large. In the morning they packed some more food, before setting fire to the farm and heading out.

------------------

They had gotten near the pyramid, it was a grand thing indeed, must have taken an insane amount of resources to build. They eventually found the entrance, it was pitch black inside. Damon had a torch with him, and he lit it, before going down into the pyramid. “It seems the pyramid agrees with my clothing choice. I could easily blend in here.”

Aria walked silently and ran her hand along the walls. She imagined the slaves who must have toiled their whole weak lives on this construction for their masters. “I wouldn’t mind a tomb like this. Maybe a bit bigger.”

“Indeed, must be quite a place to be buried, I'm sure you will find a way to gain something of equally impressive statue.” He said as he walked ahead, putting his torch upwards, reading the signs on the wall. It spoke of three great kings, the first a warrior, a man who had killed many others in battle, a master swordsman, a user of the force who had acquired the greatest aid in granting himself speed, strength and agility. After him was the next king, a sorcerer, a man of great power killing his enemies with lightning, curses and all manners of different force abilities. Finally was the last king, a man of the shadows, keeping to himself, plotting and working his way upwards, striking without a sound.

“We’re looking for some tablets, huh?” Aria attempted to feel their presence using the force but she was not trained enough to see clearly in this space of rock, death, and ancient power. “I don’t think there is anything here, but we should be careful.”

“Naturally.” He said as he kept going, there was something in this pyramid, something far greater, Damon’s force powers were still weak compared to a properly trained individual, but even he could feel it, it was strong, strong enough to kill him without him being able to even resist it. Damon wanted to go further, to find it, but he also knew that if he was to face it, and if it was to be hostile, then there would be no way that he would live.

It took time but they finally found the first one, it was inside a tomb, and the only way the found was by the pictures on the tomb itself. It told the stories of the king, the moment of his birth, to the moment of his placement in this pyramid. It showed all the great fights in which he partook, and when he killed a pretender in single-handed combat, one after one they all fell to his blade. Damon opened the tomb, inside was a corpse, clutching onto an old sword and the tablet. He let his hands run over the sword and he felt the old kings presence, his power as he touched it. The true feeling didn’t come until he touched the tablet, that was were the power was, where the kings life lessons, history and techniques had been buried, Damon wanted it, he wanted to read it, he wanted to see what it held, his hand enjoying its touch as he picked it up. “One down, one more to find.”

Aria read an inscription on the sword in old Boztrokian, “It’s in the central chamber inside an altar. It needs “essence” to open.” Aria grabbed Damon and lead him to the main chamber. “Look over there, I’ll take a look over here.”

“As you wish.” He said as walked towards the altar, looking at it, waiting for her. It was a beautiful alter, candles had once been here, now burned out, human bones were placed on top of it, a line of purple cloth with a bowl in the middle of the altar. As you walked up the stairs, you once again read the life of the king through images, imagines that had him rule with an iron fist of fear and hatred towards everyone around him, taking lives of everyone, sacrificing them for his own power.

She appeared beside him, “Found it, good. Give me your hand.” Aria gestured to Damon.

He raised an eyebrow, while placing his hand forward. “Why?” She grabbed the outstretched and quickly pulled out a knife. She ran the blade over the man’s hand and dripped the blood on the altar. The altar made a noise and the top opened revealing their mission’s goal. Aria smiled and licked the blood off of her right hand. “Bandage that wound, I’ll grab the tablet and we’ll get out of here.” An old scepter was inside, next to the tablet, with the king clad in purple.

Damon opened his bag and found the bandage, looking up at her. “Why? why my hand and not your own?” He asked as he began applying the bandage.

Aria shrugged, putting the tablet in the bag, “I was the one who read the instructions.”

“That still doesn't answer, why my hand.” He said as he finished the bandaging, giving up getting an answer and simply asked something else instead “So, how did my blood taste?”

“Better than most. It’s more savory than the spice addicted whores, their blood is too sweet.” Aria smiled and began walking out of the pyramid.

“Heh.” He said before he took his bag back on his shoulder and started following her up the stairs.

While they exited the pyramid, Damon eventually stopped for a bit while Aria walked ahead. Red was standing off to the side as Damon looked ahead, away from her. “The first king was a warrior, we had to bust upon his tomb with brute force. The next was a sorcerer, it required blood. The final king was a man of backstabbing and deceit, at least by the we discovered on the images. Mind what you see, it might not be what it appears to be, I fear the final king is paranoid, he might have ordered other traps, more than a mere decoy. Damon continued walking forward, catching up to Aria as they hiked back to the Imperial outpost.

 

[Radical_Larry]

Rumun took a long drag of his cigarette as he sat, bored, on a rock at the very edge of a megaforest. The rest of the cell should have arrived 20 minutes ago, but it seemed like Holger, the second-in-command of the group, was taking his sweet time gathering up the rest of the men.

“I’m a bit of chain smoker really.” Rumun muttered to himself as he finished his current cigarette before immediately lighting another. Rumun had been smoking cigarettes since he was 28 during his time in the Army, and he tended to go through entire packs of them in a few hours when he was nervous.

Rumun placed a protective hand over his blaster rifle as five landspeeders drove up to where he was sitting. Rumun’s already wide red eyes became saucers, only to relax at a familiar voice. “Damn Rumun, you don’t recognize your boys’ rides?” The gruff voice of Holger rang out as he stepped out of his landspeeder.

The rest of the cell members began to exit their vehicles, weapons slung over their shoulders or in their hands. “Sorry Holger. You can’t be too careful out here.” Rumun said before turning his attention to the rest of his men, “Alright boys, I’m sure you all know about the Imperial outpost a couple miles from here?” The insurgents all nodded their heads. Rumun continued, “I’m also sure you know of our plan to raid this outpost?” Once again the men nodded their heads.

“Can’t wait to shoot one of the bastards,” said an older fighter from the Knolls named Olen, “Couple days back some pimple-faced thugs no older than 19 or 20 being trained up as Sith killed an entire family, my cousin knew 'em in fact. Burnt their house down with all of them inside, kids too. Worst part is that I'm near positive they did it for fun.”

The fighters were silent besides a muttered curse coming from one of the men.

Rumun grimaced in disgust and hatred. “Things like that are why we fight back against Sith scum. Olen, I swear we’ll have all of those deranged psychopaths hanging from Thokisl's streetlights in due time.” Rumun’s tone of voice was much more serious now. “Alright, there are 30 of us, Holger and I will each be leading a squad of 14. My squad will assault through the front entrance and Holger’s squad will assault through a gap in their fortifications. There’s a ridge overlooking the outpost, Gola and Vizzal, you’ll be set up there along with the repeater, make sure to pop some Imperial heads. Olen, you get the honor of manning the repeater for this engagement. We start the assault when I fire a flare.”

Gola and Vizzal, a set of Twi’lek twins and designated snipers of the cell nodded, and Olen had a vengeful grin on his face. The heavy repeater, while bulky, prone to overheat, and nearly 80 years old, was the only piece of real firepower Rumun’s men had besides a grenade here and there, and was arguably the most valuable piece of equipment the cell possessed.

“Are there any questions?” Rumun asked. His eyes darted around from face to face, none of the men seemed confused. “Good. Let’s move.”

The insurgents travelled by foot, as a convoy of landspeeders would draw too much attention, and after a half hour walk they had reached the edge of the outpost. Rumun looked through his pair of macrobinoculars at the Imperial outpost. The outpost itself was a repurposed farmstead fortified with sandbags, barbed wire, and barriers, forming a palisade of sorts around the modest farmhouse. The farmhouse served as barracks for the on-site soldiers as well as their armory, and the outpost was built alongside a dirt road. An extension of the outpost's fortifications acted as a checkpoint on the road. About a dozen Imperial soldiers milled around outside in varying states of boredom, and Rumun figured the remaining troops were most likely inside the farmhouse. Rumun looked a bit to the right, focusing on a nearby treeline as Holger, barely visible through the vegetation, was gesturing his squadron forward into position. Turning his attention now to a ridge about 100 feet away from the outpost, Rumun could see the twins and Olen were in position. Rumun raised his flare gun and fired.

The quiet, peaceful world once surrounding the combatants suddenly sprung to a violent life as the sound of blaster fire rang out from seemingly all directions, Rumun was quick to land a shot in the throat of a soldier guarding the checkpoint as the insurgents' repeater roared to life. Rumun shouted “Long live the Republic!” as he charged forward with the rest of his men. The Duros could see out of the corner of his eye that Holger’s men were also charging the position, as according to plan. What was not according to plan, however, was an Imperial soldier getting on a repeater of their own and opening up on Rumun’s squad. The insurgents panicked and dove into the safety of a roadside ditch but not before a good amount of them had been cut down by the fire. Thankfully, the Imperial repeater was silenced by a well-placed shot from one of the snipers. Rumun urged his men forward as they scrambled out of the ditch, only to immediately come under fire again from troops in the farmhouse. In a stroke of luck, Rumun and his squadron were only a few feet away from the defensive positions of the outpost, which they took cover behind.

Rumun cursed. They had no way to force the Imperials out of the house without blowing it up, and enemy fire from the windows would prevent both his and Holger’s squads from moving close enough to throw grenades inside. But then he remembered the spare flare on him. Although Rumun shuddered at the thought of burning the Imperials alive, not unlike what the teenage Sith did just a few days earlier, desperate times called for desperate measures. “Us or them!” Rumun growled as he fired the flare right into the bullseye that was an open window on the second floor of the building. The house went up like a matchbox in just few a minutes and the pained, fearful screams of the soldiers trapped inside could be heard over the roaring flames.

The insurgents left in a hurry, stopping only to retrieve the weapons of the fallen on both sides and to plant a Republic flag amidst the smoldering rubble of the farmhouse. All Imperial forces present at the outpost were killed, and the cell lost 9 of their 30 men in the fight. The surviving 21 successfully returned to their homes undetected by the frenzied Militia and Imperial troops. All over the Knolls, rebels and civilians alike prepared for savage reprisals as Rumun began planning him and his cell's next move.

 

[oxfordroyale]

Red did not like the other two apprentices - they were far too loud. Following their shuttle drop-off, Red had rapidly grown tired of their chatter and run off, lurking in the trees and shadowing them from a distance - their noise was much more bearable that way, muffled somewhat by the foliage. She had watched as they kicked down the door of the farm, heard the violent screams of terror and pain that emanated from within.​

The sounds brought back sharp, fragmented memories – the roar of the bombs as they tore through the city streets, the high-pitched wailing of the wounded and the absolute silence of the dead. Hands shaking slightly, Red elected to search for the pyramid even as night began to fall. She slunk away to the sound of the raucous laughter of her peers, like crows cawing over the corpses of the dead.

It was almost dawn when she finally found it, guided by the pull of some vast, unseen power that caused the hairs to stand on the back of her arms and neck. The pyramid was old, dark and very quiet; others might find the silence eerie, but to Red it was a comfort. In a world that was so loud, this ancient place was forever at peace.

She roamed the structure from top to bottom; not in search of the tombs, but to find the source of that dark power that beckoned to her, luring her to it like a moth to a flame. However, every time she felt it grow stronger, felt it grow near, its force seemed to withdraw from her touch like a living thing.

Through it all, the silence was all-encompassing and complete.

Or at least it would have been, if it were not for the arrival of the others several hours later. Red left them to the work their masters had assigned to them, continuing to search for that mysterious power. At length, however, she was forced to admit defeat. She could not find it.

She joined the other apprentices just outside the pyramid’s entrance. The boy’s hand was bleeding, and the girl wore that frightening grin of hers. Red wondered absentmindedly if she had been the one to draw his blood. If so, he seemed to give no indication.

“The first king was a warrior, we had to bust upon his tomb with brute force,” the boy said, looking ahead and away from her. “The next was a sorcerer, it required blood. The final king was a man of backstabbing and deceit, at least by what we discovered on the images. Mind what you see, it might not be what it appears to be, I fear the final king is paranoid, he might have ordered other traps, more than a mere decoy.”

Red gave no indication that she had heard, waiting until the boy had run up ahead after the girl to follow them. They quickly began to talk – about what, Red did not care. It was just noise.

 

[Sneakyflaps]

The Lord of the Academy​

Damon is brought where he has never before tread, far above the living quarters, far above the ambiance of the academy, the voices, the yelling, the general milling about of apprentices. It is here where the air turns strangely cold, where the atmosphere itself seems to contract, giving way to a strange feeling - a feeling of dark energy. The ninth floor.

Escorted by two Imperial troopers, without a word they usher him into a side room, near the end of a winding hallway. As he enters, it becomes apparent that the room is designed for meditation, no furniture, low lighting, and a solitary figure awaiting. Lord Bromlin, a sith lord in his mid thirties, though looking somewhat older as the force had taken its toll on him, watches as the young apprentice enter, a strange sort of satisfaction on his face. Damon stepped closer, stopping in front of the sith lord before he knelt down, head looking down towards the ground. “My Lord.”

Lord Bromlin, with an outstretched hand gives a silent gesture to stand. His eyes quickly shift to the tablet held by Damon, and his smile widens.

“Bring it to me, my child.”

Damon did as he was told, standing up and walked forward, placing the tablet in his hand for the Sith Lord to take at his own leisure, taking three steps backwards after he had done so.

“Hmmm, yes. The Warrior. In our humble archives, I have spent a great deal of time, reading his exploits. Of course, they are not so clearly detailed, nor do they always know his name, but I know it is he who sacked Kelel, I know it is he who bathed in the blood of House Ashi. Tell me child, share with me what you have learned, what you think about the discoveries made?”

“Yes my lord.” Damon said as he closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. “I must admit that my learning has been limited, the task was simple enough, and I have not been given ample time with the tablet to study its secrets. Still, searching for the tablets allowed me to focus my mind, and the energies, looking into the spirit's self, rather than the surroundings to see a way to reach the tablets. The inscriptions near the tombs gave some leeway, but it required focus to piece together the remainders, something only the force allowed. To prove ourselves worthy of their great legacy, we needed to search into ourselves, into them, to see if we're worthy.
As for the discoveries, I believe them to prove worthy, but I cannot say without being allowed greater insight.”

Lord Bromlin nodded.

“What we should take from this, is that the forebears of this civilization were not mere men. No, try as the past governments might, they could not erase the true nature of Boztrok; this planet was forged by force-sensitives - the ancient Royal Dynasty. And if my theory is right, they were of Sith foundation. Perhaps not as developed as we, but as a lesser form, untrained, but still infused with the Force, enough to create a planetary reign. Or perhaps even under the guidance of a Sith...but that is not yet proper to speak of.

Now, child, tell me the significance of the Warrior King. What is his purpose, his strength, how was he worthy of legacy?”

“The significance is great, my lord. It is a man who will not shy away from battle, who can stand his own ground even as the enemy gets closer, who is willing to get into the thickest of the battle. A true warrior is a man who will make his enemies run at the mere sight of his presence, to know that you are to fight him will make men shiver and pray for all they hold dear. He is a symbol of inspiration, or terror to his enemies and he can turn the tide of battles. It is a man of tremendous energy, who can keep fighting, keep going as the battle rages on, hour after hour. Such a warrior, who has honed his skills, who is imbued with the force, that is a man who is truly free.” Damon looked up at the lord. “A man where the force truly belongs.”

As Damon spoke, Bromlin seems more and more pleased with himself.

“When I first stood on Boztrokian soil, I knew that this planet was more than others believed, that it had potential, moreso than the others in this Aparo Sector. I sensed its pull on the Force. Others mocked me, as they were not strong enough to feel it. You have proven me right in coming here. Your understanding of the Sith ways is perhaps not honed, but your raw connection with the ways of the Dark Side is apparent. And this planet, and its people, and the Empire, will know it, even if I must write it in blood.”

Beckoning to the trooper who had brought Damon in, Lord Bromlin exchanged an order with him. The trooper quickly saluted and made his way off to fulfill his duty.

“Perhaps you have heard of a certain transgression in the Knoll, perpetrated by hooligans?”

“I heard some soldiers discussing an attack while being brought here, something about some soldiers being killed, and a based being burned down.”

“Nothing but lightly-organized resistance, bands of aspiring heroes who serve only to illustrate the disorderly nature of the Republic and its sympathizers. But what they represent is unacceptable. And that is why you are going down to the ashes of this outpost, with a group of my personal men, and you are going to bring down our righteous hammer upon them. I care not for how you do it, but do what is needed. Imperial Intelligence may be snooping around, but do not let them get in your way; this is Sith dealings - fear and subjugation are our domain.”

Lord Bromlin spoke with great finality, and turned slightly, gazing ahead, perhaps lost in thought.

“Yes, my lord.” Damon said, bowing before taking three steps back and turning around, walking out of the room.

 

[Plutonium95]

Guard Duty​

Cipher Seven had been amused to experience a slight amount of difficulty in infiltrating the Imperial Guard at the Palace of Dusk. It hadn’t been anything too substantial, certainly not with the resources of Imperial Intelligence at her disposal, but it made it rather unlikely that Republic spies were in the palace. The guards carried electronic forms of identification and operated on a tight schedule, so Seven had ruled out the possibility of simply stealing a uniform almost immediately. Instead she would have to replace a member of the guard entirely, likely for a stretch of at least a few weeks, through that suited her mission requirements fine.

She supposed she was lucky that the Palace Guard was a new regiment, which meant that it was having soldiers transferred to and from it with some frequency as those who would make the best fit were found. A carefully-orchestrated chance run in with a drunken Imperial Captain in a bar on the worse side of town had yielded her the proper credentials to access the Guards’ schedule, and I.I. connections afforded her access to see new transfers to the regiment. From there it had only been a matter of finding a new transfer who matched her rough description, quietly intercepting her upon her arrival at the Thokisl Starport, and taking her place in the schedule. And voila, she was Leia Masuni, formerly of Kaas City.

What had been less simple that gaining secure entry into the palace, was actually finding any actionable intelligence to pass on to Minder 17. The top floor was Lord Bromlin’s and to enter it would almost certainly have meant a quick end to her mission by way of defenestration. Most of the rest of the palace was occupied by the academy, and while some of the masters or apprentices might have known about potentially treasonous activities, it would take some time to find out who could be trusted as an informant, though a few had already caught her eye.

Seven had been filling of role of Leia Masuni for just under a week when her squad of the Palace Guard had been ordered to muster on one of the landing pads. She was sure that it was related to the attack on an imperial outpost by resistance fighters, and many of the guards had echoed her thoughts on the long walk until they had arrived and been ordered to stand at attention. The force totaled just one platoon for a total of twenty men and women, including their officers, plus three aircraft had been prepared for the journey. After a long wait, a lift came up carrying two men, one was the superior officer, a large man named Lieutenant Foss, who would be in charge of all the men, the other was what Seven could only assume was a young sith apprentice in his mid-teens, a boy of about her height.

She knew that the academy had children, she’d seen enough of them, but it seemed irresponsible in terms of the safety of the boy in front of her, to actually send him into the field. Not to mention the fact that his presence would no doubt actively compromise the mission as he sought to take charge as sith were wont to do, in Seven’s experience.

Still, she saluted along with all of the other guards as the two men approached, and quickly began to board the ship. The flight itself was agonizingly slow, as Seven sat across from the sith, her helmet resting on the muzzle of her blaster between her legs. As she looked him over in her peripherals she couldn’t help but feeling a little sorry for him; knowing how the sith treated each other she figured he would be lucky to see his thirtieth birthday. She shrugged away the thought and turned her attention planning a way to begin gathering intelligence once they returned to the palace.

After hours of flight they landed and exited the crafts, guns at the ready in case there was any sort of ambush planned by the resistance. The outpost seemed to have been little more than an old farmhouse converted into a barracks with some sandbags even before the fight as far Seven could tell. Now several corpses littered the ground, stripped of the equipment, immediately marking the resistance as a group desperate for supplies, but not so weak that they couldn’t pull of an assault on a defensive position even one as soft as this. Seven had to admit, she was impressed.

The Sith apprentice exited the craft last, Foss at his side, and the lieutenant began to address the platoon. “This base was hit recently by the resistance, as they so fondly call themselves. We have been sent here to clean it up. Your assignments will be split, squad one will scout the area and set up a defensive line. Squad two will search the corpses and bag them. Squad three will look around the base for anything worthy of note. Bring anything you find to me. Get moving!” When Foss finished yelling his commands he and the sith went into the burnt out ruins of the farmhouse.

Seven sighed underneath her helmet and slung her blaster rifle up onto her shoulder, before heading off with her squad to begin inspecting the base. It was clear what had happened, at that there wouldn’t be any physical evidence of where the resistance members had gone, but she dutifully examined scorch marks from enemy blaster fire, looked over the corpses of those who had been unfortunate enough to be at the outpost during the attack, and studied the tracks made by enemies during what she presumed was their retreat after they had finished their mission. As the rest of her squad wasted time trying to tell if a bent twig or overturned rock were a big clue to the location of the enemy she entered the barracks to report her findings.

Foss stood up when she entered, causing her to laugh mentally as she considered what a challenge it must have been for him. “Report.”

She snapped a hasty salute before proceeding. “Sir. Blaster fire, consistent with long range rifles, likely deployed on the ridge north of the outpost.” She spoke quickly and professionally, just as any trained imperial soldier might. “Scorch marks that would match a heavy repeater too, with gaps that indicate inconsistent bursts of fire, likely due to cooling problems, meaning that their weapons are probably scavenged rather than supplied by any sort of Republic effort to promote resistance. They came in and left on foot, the likelihood of being able to track them for more than a mile or two at most is very low sir.”

The sith, who until now had stood still, looking onto a map they had placed on the walls, turned his head to the side, looking over his shoulder at her. “Locals?”

“Almost certainly,” Cipher Seven said, pivoting to face the boy who was clearly preparing to insinuate himself into the investigation, just as any other sith would. “They knew the terrain well enough to take advantage of it in their attack and would have had someplace they felt confident they could go to ground before reinforcements arrived. As well as the fact that the outpost is a low-value target, and was most likely just close by for them.”

The apprentice turned back to the map. “Lieutenant.” He said, studying the map. “Give a shuttle to each of two groups, have them round up the locals and bring them here to the base, have the final group clear up the quarters here, it might take time. Finally send some for a torture division back at the palace, we are going to need them, someone will talk. Dismissed.”

Cipher Seven paused for a moment to see if Foss would respond, but was unsurprised when the spineless man simply made to leave, handing the entire operation over to foolish, ego-fueled child before her. She addressed the sith. “If I may, have you considered the consequences of this course of action? There will undeniably be blowback against our other outposts if we begin slaughtering civilians indiscriminately. I wouldn’t put the group that attacked this outpost at more than forty men, they are a minority, but actions like those you are suggesting may change that.”

“Then pray that they talk quickly.” He said coldly, little regard for the cost of life the ending might have.

Cipher Seven scoffed lightly to herself underneath her helmet, wondering if all sith were so ignorant of military intelligence matters. He would have his sadistic fun, torturing women and children in the name of freedom or power or some similar rationalization, as all sith did, then Imperial Intelligence would be stuck with the task of dealing with the fallout of his actions. She had seen it firsthand on Ruuria and heard about it from many others. “As you say,” She said flatly as she turned her attention to clearing a space in the quarters as the sith had instructed, unwilling to push her cover any further.

 

[oxfordroyale]

The Power of Silence​

Flanked by two Imperial troopers, Red followed the curvature of the slowly-winding hallway; they had not told her where they were going, but she could already guess that it was important by the tight, rigid way the two men held themselves, and the smell of sweat. Of fear. The very air felt cold, sending a chill down her spine, but when Red let out a breath it did not mist in front of her like she would have expected.

The hallway ended abruptly at a small, unmarked doorway, it’s contents shrouded in shadow. The troopers stopped just outside the threshold, turning to stare at her through their opaque helmets - they expected her to enter alone. Red sensed a great power emanating from within the room, deep and dark and terrible, but despite the almost overpowering urge to run she boldly stepped through the doorway.

Lord Bromlin himself stood alone in the center of the room, which was barely lit and devoid of furniture. Upon seeing him Red immediately stepped close and knelt, her eyes downcast - following protocol that had been beaten into her over the course of the last several months.

Bromlin smiled to see the young red-haired apprentice, known only as Red. As she knelt, he gestured for her to rise, and pointed at the tablet.

“Come child, let me see.”

Red rose and provided the tablet to her master with outstretched arms, eyes still skirting his face.

Taking it, Lord Bromlin visibly brightened.

“Ah, the Dark King, the Shadowed Sovereign, whisperer of secrets not meant for the ears of common beings. At least, that is how the library describes him. But even that is shrouded in a veil of secrecy. In truth, such a reputation itself is likely a fabrication, the ultimate in his plots, to reshape his very history. It is said that he buried secrets across this world and beyond. But of course, we all have our secrets, yes? Even you, silent one, so guarded in your ways.”

Lord Bromlin just gave a knowing smile.

“And of course, they will always surface, the light shall reach them all. Every last one...but not today at least, silent one.”

Red’s face was completely and utterly passive, as placid and still as the surface of a pond. She gave no indication that she had even heard Lord Bromlin’s words, and yet one could almost see the wheels turning behind her wide, unblinking eyes; her mind picking over each and every word, carefully, like a master craftsman appraising a piece of art.

Bromlin continued after a moment of silence.

“There is more to you than your silence, this I know. I sense something within you, a sort of power. Perhaps more than the others, an attunement to the Force. When you stood within the decaying ruins of the pyramid, you felt something, did you not? An energy, a presence. Something beyond our world.”

Slowly, Red nodded. That sensation of vast, almost incomprehensible power that she had felt dwelling within the pyramid remained with her still, as did the empty, hollow feeling left in the pit of her stomach when she could not find it after hours of searching.

Bromlin seemed quite impressed with himself, and also with Red.

“Yes, yes! The vast majority of the apprentices here - my children - they would scarcely feel anything beyond the chill of the tomb, with no appreciation for the true allure of the mystics afoot. Truly, it is not their fault, this weakness and ignorance. But you, yes you! You can sense this, it permeates through you, noticeable as a fog rolling over you. Perhaps it is innate, or perhaps your silence does well for you, a sort of mediation and self-check that most do not possess. Regardless, it gives you power. Do you understand your own power, silent one, how special you are, how great you can become?”

Red nodded again, albeit with some hesitation. She still did not understand the forces she felt around her, all the time. She did not truly comprehend the great otherness she had sensed within the pyramid, could not fathom why others did not relish in the silence the way she did. She was at a loss with her surroundings, with herself… but she desired to learn. When Lord Bromlin spoke of that power, revealed that he could feel it as well, a great surge of emotion welled up within her - barely suppressed. He understood. He knew the answers.

Red fell to her knees once more, but this time she did not avert her eyes. She looked into the face of her master, and though no words were spoken. the message she relayed was clear:

Teach me.

Without a word, Lord Bromlin reached his hand out, cupping Red’s face in his hand.

“With me, you will learn what is needed to harness your potential, to become what you truly are; together, we will master this world.”

 

[Dadarian]

A Sith task, Part 1

A task given directly by Lord Bromlin ! For Sek'nos Kressh it was a honor to even think of such a thing. He quickly recovered from his euphoria though and started to formalize plans. The Human female known as Selene Dyson and the male known as Aylen Duval he ordered to go to their chambers and clean up, shave and wash themselves. He ordered a servant slave to bring him and his comrades a very specific set of clothing, upon which he went wash as well. When they eventually met they were not surprised. Fancy clothing, normally only worn by diplomats was now worn by Aylen Duval and Selene Dyson. He then told them the plan. They were to remain silent and say little, apart from Selene, who would be a secondary speaker in case Sek'nos needed a backup voice. Sek'nos and his crew theb went to the residence of the man known as Lord Dolsot.

The older man lived in a grand mansion, arguably the biggest on the entire planet. Sek'nos Kressh wondered if it was bigger then the Palace of Dusk. It did indeed. When they arrived on the front gate, they were directed to the speeders standing by. For the garden of the mansion of Lord Dolsot was so big, walking would take hours. He recieved them in his office. Though Office was not a proper naming for the place. It was as big as a throneroom, filled with recordings, star maps and many other items, and on the end of the room, a pile of credits. On that pile of credits sat Lord Dolsot, on his chair. It was an impressive sight to behold. Sek'nos Kressh and his party kneeled, and kindly introduced themselves :

My Lord, if I may introduce myself and my company, I am Sek'nos Kressh and these are my fellow apprentices Selene Dyson and Aylen Duval. We have come here on behalf of the Empire, to thank you. Due to your unpatriotic action the planet of Boztrok was quickly taken and bloodshed was minimalized. As a reminder of your loyal service to the Empire, it has been agreed that for now your less then legal affairs will be overlooked for the coming period, unless you commit actions that do not benefit the Empire. We would like to offer our official offer of assistance .

((Sek'nos Kressh awaits a reply, stands ready for commands along with the rest of the delegation@Dadarian and @Ironhide G1 (You can imput your own bit of dialogue here if you want, I just wrote mine)))
​

​

Lord Dolsot did not like his Sithling for a multitude of reasons. The first is that the ... thing in front of him called his actions unpatriotic to not only his face, but to the faces of all those present. Not that it wasn't true, but keeping up appearances was important and a whelp speaking in such a matter was impertinent. The second was his address of his activities, again not something Dolsot even tried to hide, but the entrance of the Sithling and his opening mention of it set the hairs on the back of his head on end. Thirdly this unwanted presence didn't bother to call forward to announce their arrival, just showing up at his gate. He had to shoo a pair of merchants out the back without collecting their security deposits, which will be a pain to collect tomorrow if they could be found. After that the little Sith apprentice saw fit to threaten him, like he was an average jape to be threatened by such a lowly tool of the Empire. Lastly, and probably most importantly, the thing was ugly. Like got kicked out of a freighter onto the tree of ugly and hit every branch on the way down sorta ugly.

It all tied together in one beautifully unneeded bundle of bother. However, these whelps were force users and ambassadors of the people who could legitimately threaten him. Thus he put on his politician's mask and smiled emptily at the three figures in front of him.

Why, thank you young Apprentices of the Empire. Such an offer is more than appreciated. However, me and my men have more than enough assistance in how we conduct our business. Dolsot's mask broke for just a second, however it did break and his contempt was clear to see. Now get out.

Smiling, the Lord had the Sithlings dismissed. He also organised a few of his guards to go and find the previously mentioned merchants, less they take his money and vamoose before he could take the money and kill their children for the trouble. Dolsot also made a mental note to hire another spy at the temple so he could be properly warned of such inconveniences before they arrive. Never know when you need to hide things from the Sith, even if lowly Sithlings.

 

[Noco19]

When They Come Knocking​

Marlo was a simple man, born and bred to be a farmer. Bigstalks were a hardy plant, but even they needed attention every now and then, and he was pleased to give in. Lounging under the sun, wind rolling over him, it was therapeutic. And to think city-folk needed to pay big credits to have some sort of artificial relaxation at some sort of spa or resort. All that was good was free, as it had been always, from Marlo's father, to his father, and so on. Sure, the Sith had taken over, but they didn't even bother him all the way out here, and he had been content regardless of the government.

That thought was interrupted by the high-pitched scream of Marlo's wife, her voice echoing across the field from their little house in town. Snatching up his hoe, Marlo bolted to her aid, fear drowning over him. Bandits? They hadn't had that problem since the Sheriff strung up the Yatre Brothers. Animals? It wasn't quite Dakhound season. The uncertainty only heightened the anguish, setting seconds to excruciating hours as Marlo burst into his home through the back door.

"Hands where we can see them native, drop the weapon!", shouted an Imperial trooper, as his comrades restrained Marlo's wife and five children, with little regard to their concerns.

Marlo looked incredulously for a second before realizing they meant his hoe. He quickly released it, and they seized him, dragging him and his family out into the street. Now he could see the same happening house-to-house, the idyllic village set to chaos in a span of minutes. Before being dragged into a shuttle, Marlo hard a series of blaster shots from Mister Olen's house. The trooper at its door fell, his armor sizzling and his compatriots screaming orders and commands. After a tense fight, the sounds of combat died down, and from the house was drug Olen's family, their corpses scorched, their bodies unceremoniously thrown into the street. Olen himself was nowhere to be seen, and some of the troopers were chattering about some sort of escaped speeder.

What was going on!?

_____

After a round of torture sessions, Lieutenant Foss had about as much as he could glean. The neighbor of Olen, one Mister Rufus Beea, had his fingers removed before he admitted that he knew of Olen's involvement with some sort of resistance group, but knew nothing beyond the fact that one time he saw a good number of them when they met at Olen's house once, and some looked like Knoll boys, meaning moreso farmers than professional troops. Mister Beea had died in the process of additional extraction, but he seemed to actually know nothing more. But it was something at the very least. Now what to do about the survivors...

 

[Korona]

Name: Captain Jenssi Keeg
Age: 41
Race: Duros
Asset: R.I Funding and a retrofitted light freighter

Biography: Born to a senior Durosian aide, Jenssi Keeg is a child of Coruscant. He grew up with the children of the Republic's politicians, attending a prestigious off-world school. Jenssi made many close friends during this time, including Dasvi Pellaeon, now a Senator for Corellia. Jenssi grew to embody a party-boy spirit, he threw wild parties and consumed an immense amount of alcohol whilst at this academy. Eventually, he was thrown out because he was caught sleeping with a teacher and a student, something usually frowned upon in upper-class Coruscanti society. He was sent back to Duro, where he was enrolled in something akin to a juvenile correctional school by his now powerful Durese parents.

After surviving three years of hell in what Jenssi called "a facility worse than a Sith torture room", the young Jenssi Keeg was now free to do whatever he desired. He caught a transport from Duro to Coruscant, where he reconnected with his friend Dasvi Pellaeon. They got together, and hosted an extravagant party complete with prostitutes, spices, and booze. Jenssi bought an apartment in the upper level of Coruscant, by using his father's money, and lived the life of a bachelor until he was in his late 30s. His family was found complicit in a plot to overthrow the Durese government, and he had his bachelor-pad taken from him. Desperate to put ends together, Jenssi joined the [REDACTED]. He proved to be adept at [CLASSIFIED] and [CLASSIFIED], and was made Lieutenant by age 40. With the onset of galactic war, Jenssi was promoted to Captain, and sent to Boztrok to establish a [REDACTED]. Jenssi was planning on retiring, and entering a life in Durese politics when the war began, so he is less than enthusiastic to put his life on the line for a republic that took his old life away.

 

[AzagalTheGreat]

Sek'nos Kressh was walking to the house of Lord Drooga when he got ambushed by a drunk beggar. He got in a fistfight with him, but due to lack of any sort of fighting experience he was quickly beaten down, robbed and beaten to death. His corpse was hidden when the beggar known as 'Shaggers' saw that he had killed a Sith apprentice.

And so ended the inglorious tale of a young apprentice. And began the story of the beggar known as Shaggers..

 

[Sneakyflaps]

A Touch of Mercy​

Damon exited the barracks, walking back and forth between the farmers who had been placed in a straight line, soldiers standing across from them, ready to fire if given the order. He looked at them, as well as all the children between them, then he smiled. He looked at the children, one of them was crying loudly, making Damon walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him. Damon smiled sweetly as he looked into the child’s eyes, wiping away a tear with his thumb, “Don’t cry, don’t show them your fear, your pain, use it, it will make you stronger.” Damon stood back up, walking behind the child, kneeling down again. He took one arm around the child, and started ruffling the child’s hair with his hand.

“This village has shielded a member of the so called Resistance, a rebel and traitor to the Sith Empire, and as such the village is responsible. One man, and a family has already paid with their lives, all of you right here could also pay with your life, I just need to give the order.” He looked around at the people standing, fear in their eyes. “I won’t, I will grant you all mercy, one more chance. Should any rebel, should any activity in the village occur which may at all seem suspicious, you are to report it to the Empire at once, not the day afterwards, not the week after, instantly. Should you waste my mercy, should you once again shield rebels, then I will personally come back to claim all of you. I promise that my revenge will be ten times sweeter to me, than my mercy is to you.” Damon kissed the back of the child’s head, as he continued moving his hand through the child’s hair. “Starting with this boy, then every single one of his friends and finally all the rest of you, and I promise, you will watch it all.” Damon said as he let go off the boy, walking away from the farmers and towards the commander.

“Let them go, keep an eye on the village, furthermore I want scouts out looking for this Olen, I want him found, now!”