Von Ricore let out a long drawn out sigh as he leaned back in his chair. While the majority of the Clan Embassies were rather spartan in nature it was not too arduous for the massive humanoid to convince the Dark Ascent guards of the necessity for a piece of furniture that could hold his larger frame. Serving as a one time guard to Marick during his tenure as voice and his credentials with the Shadow Academy helped to prove his loyalty, at least enough to get him a damn chair.
“But it wasn’t enough to speed this process up.” Von mumbled to himself. With the conflict between the Severian Principate and Tenexir Revenants simmering to a halt many wondered what future lay in store for The Unknown regions comprising Brotherhood Space. The Clan Vizsla information network, a series of criminals, bounty hunters and ne’er do wells, had been abuzz with rumor. It appeared the Dark Council were planning something known as Operation RAPTORSTRIKE. Some other fool may have made a massive mistake, attempting to torture the info out of guards, or break into the Dark Ascent. Von had no intention of making himself a martyr on this day. Instead he requested an audience with the Dark Council which led him to his current situation, lounging in a chair with mind numbing boredom as he waited to be summoned to the council chamber.
After what felt like an eternity Von was jolted out of his daydreaming by a knock at the door. Answering it, he found himself face to face with a Royal Guard in black armor armed with a force pike.
“The council will see you now.” The guard announced, their voice muffled by a voice modulator to protect their identity.
Von nodded and followed the guard out of the room. Despite no longer having the ability to use the Force he couldn’t help the ominous feeling growing within him. Perhaps it was merely a phantom sensation but the hybrid couldn’t help but feel nervous about the meeting. He was going to be in a room with some of the strongest Force users the galaxy had ever known. And that was more than a little unnerving.
The pair entered the lower level turbolifts. Neither dared to speak out of a mixture of duty, respect, and a little bit of fear. The lifts arrived at the upper level. The pair exited and trekked down a series of hallways filled with black robed royal guards. The duo then arrived at the opulent Antechamber of the Dark Council. Beskar ornaments acted as a showcase to the wealth of the Brotherhood, proof that the Council could afford to waste the expensive and valuable metal on pointless trinkets. 8 Royal Guards in Black Praetorian Guard Armor, the Elite of the Elite, guarded this chamber.
The guard escorting Von tapped their force pike on the ground 8 times. In response; one of the Praetorian guards inserted a code cylinder into a terminal, opening the way forward. The duo continued down that hallway entering a vast empty cavern. The room was empty except for a set of spiraling stairs which lead upward.

“Ascend the stairs. The council is waiting.”

Von did as he was asked; carefully ascending the winding staircase. At the top he saw a room with thrones arranged in a semicircle. Most were empty, save the center throne, occupied by a short human with amber hair and eyes.

“Darth Nehalem.” Von exclaimed as he prostrated himself before the leader of the Brotherhood.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. Rise Von Ricmore.”

“But my lord…I.”

The Sith Lord held up a hand to silence him. “I appreciate your attempt to stand on ceremony but there is no need to debase yourself. I have things to do and it will be far better for the both of us if we get this audience over with.”

Von was visibly taken aback. Schooling his expression he refused to allow the Sith to get to him. “Yes my lord. You see I have sought an audience regarding…”

“Operation Raptorstrike.” The Sith interrupted once again. “I am aware. James foresaw your arrival several weeks ago. You have good timing Ricmore. The Brotherhood requires your services. The presence of the Crystal Soldiers used by our enemies is worrisome. But we’ve come up with a ritual of our own. Using it on any ordinary sentient would likely lead to a berserk trooper, a mindless brute like the crystal soldier. But you? A Force user who lost his connections to the Force. It may just be what you need to rekindle it. Will you take the risk, Von?”

“Of course sir. Just tell me what I have to do.”

A sinister smile spread across Evant’s face. “Excellent. Most excellent indeed.”

Unknown Planet

Von knelt in the circle formed from Sith Alchemy; Devoid of all clothes except a loincloth. An acolyte stepped forward, bucket in hand.

“With this liquid you are cleansed of your past. Your mistakes, your triumphs, nothing will shackle you any longer.”
The acolyte doused Von with the unknown liquid. His red skin took on a green tinge as the glowing green liquid flowed across his body.

“But power can not be gained without cost. An anchor is required, a chain to bind you until you have the strength to break it.”
A different acolyte stepped near the circle and handed Von a Sith Alchemy dagger. The hybrid raised the blade and took a deep breath to steady himself. He brought the dagger down, cutting and tearing his left eye from the socket.

“AHHHHH!” He screamed out in agony. Blood oozed from the wound, which ran down his face and dripped onto the alchemical circle. The circle began to glow an insidious, smoky, green.

“With that sacrifice, that anchor, you can now bear host to the strength that you deserve.”
A third acolyte stepped forward gripping a small case. Opening it, Von’s remaining eye saw a purple Kyber crystal covered in Sith Alchemical runes, fashioned into the shape of an eye. The acolyte handed Von the item.

The hybrid brought the eye to his face, slotting it into the socket with a pained grunt. Magic beyond his understanding fused the artificial eye. Von screamed until his voice broke and he could scream no more. All the pain he felt was secondary to a new emotion, happiness. He could feel it. He could feel the Force again.

Darth Nehalem was beside himself with joy. It had worked. “This is only the beginning.”

Dandoran: Chemical Processing Plant
Hidden away within one of the forests of Dandoran is a major source of wealth for the Hutt clan, a Chemical Processing Plant. As a source of revenue the building has been invested heavily in by the Hutts. Built with a reinforced durasteel/Beskar alloy and protected by a domed ray shield that can be deployed at any time the building can withstand even a planetary bombardment. The building is also protected by several automated turrets, which a skilled slicer may be able to make use of for their own purposes.
The inside of the building is filled with forced laborers and scientists who work tirelessly to produce military combat stims and illegal spice to appease the endless greed of the Hutts. Various chemicals bubble in test tubes at the science quarter while the spice is manufactured along an assembly line worked by slaves.
While the outside has a temperate forest climate the interior of the building alternates between sweltering heat with air filled with chemical fumes to remarkably chilly when the drugs need to be preserved and packed.

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

One of the Collective agents who infiltrated the Shadow Academy has been neutralized and the artifact he was carrying has been recovered. This artifact is a small blade. I use a blade to refer to the item as it is longer than a dagger but not quite long enough to qualify as a sword, perhaps it should then be considered a short sword. The blade is a functional weapon, as many Sith artifacts have a tendency to be. It appears to have served some sort of ritualistic purpose, as even now the blade has a supernatural tang of blood around it. Personally, being near the blade is unnerving enough due to the bizarre smell, but the many incantations engraved into the blade which seem to glow when looking at it from the corner of one’s eye is enough to set myself and other researchers on end. The writing was translated by one of our staff who understood the written word of the Ancient Sith. This haiku below is a translation of the writing found upon the blade.

We are the chosen
Of blackened hearts and pure blood
We stand tall and proud

Dominating all
No one can stand in our way
Conquer, loot, destroy

A jedi fallen
Brought us knowledge of the force
Enabled our rise

We can never stop
Needs never satiated
They drive us onward

5 ABY
Prophet Howlader “Howie” Taldrya
Imperial Star Destroyer Indomitable

“This is getting out of hand.” Howlader muttered to himself as he exited the cockpit of his Tie Interceptor. Removing his helmet with a sigh of frustration, the human began to briskly walk towards his quarters. The ace pilot had a lot on his mind; the destruction of the second Death Star and death of The Emperor had the remnants of the Imperial Military scrambling to restore order. The Rebel Alliance was putting up an even greater resistance than usual, something which bothered Howlader greatly. Those accursed rebels, they brought the war to Endor and death to his tribe, his beloved pandas. It was long past time for Howlader to show them where they belonged; groveling on the ground with the Empire’s boot resting on their neck.

Arriving at his quarters the human locked the door behind him. Taking off his Tie flight suit, the human stepped into the fresher for a quick cleaning. Leave it to his commanders to schedule a strategy meeting almost immediately after his deployment. Howlader barely had enough time to freshen up for the meeting much less grab a bite to eat or get some much needed shut-eye. “Perhaps I should not be so surprised. Command can not seem to implement proper tactics to allow us a victory against the New Republic so why should I expect them to be able to competently create a schedule?”

Finished with his cleansing the human quickly put on his military dress uniform before racing out the door. He moved swiftly through the hallways of the Star Destroyer, intent on making it to the meeting in time. So focused on moving swiftly he missed a crewman carrying a pot of stew. Crashing into him, Howlader fell to the floor. The crewman lost his balance and dumped the pot of stew all over Howlader’s pants. The human gave an exclamation of pain and surprise, having not seen the crewman and undoubtedly not expecting to have hot stew poured onto him.

Howlader hissed in pain and got to his feet. He then grabbed the crewman by his collar and pulled him upwards. “You absolute fool! Do you have any idea what you have just done?! The strategy meeting called by command starts any minute. And now I do not have the time to change.”

The crewman muttered a string of apologies as Howlader released his grasp with a sigh of disgust. With another sigh of frustration Howlader entered the meeting.

As he entered the meeting all of the officers who had been speaking immediately stopped talking. The admiral in charge of this remnant of the Empire looked directly at Howlader and raised an eyebrow. “Normally I would ask for the reason for your tardiness but the answer is plainly evident to any who gaze upon your pants.”

An officer failed to contain his chuckles and began outright laughing. The laughter spread amongst all the officers gathered.
Howlader’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and a single thought dominated within his head. “I. Hate. Pants.”

Manually added by Eminent Idris Adenn

OPTION 1

Major Hector Ricmore
Clan Vizsla
Eos City, Arx

Eos City was filled with pure and utter chaos. Soldiers moved to their assigned points, medics and volunteers carried the injured to field hospitals, while others carried munitions to defensive positions. The air was filled with flashes of blaster cannon fire and the occasional explosion when one of the anti air weapons managed to shoot down a Collective fighter. With the sheer amount of ships fielded by The Collective keeping the ships from performing bombing runs was the best the AA could do.

Within one of the few designated landing zones sat a GX1 Diplomatic Short Hauler named Ship. The ship lowered its ramp allowing a red armored figure to emerge. The figure exited the ship before waving and calling to one of the passing soldiers.

“Thank you for coming. Major Ricmore here with a few crates of medical supplies, ammunition, and several E Web emplacements. Where do you want them?”

“Bring the medical supplies to the nearest field hospital. You can find it if you take the left exit out of the landing zone and make a right. Bring the E Web and ammo to wherever you were posted.”

“Are you sure that’s the best place to put it? We could-”

“I need to get going. It’ll be fine.”

The soldier left in a hurry, no doubt moving to his assigned post.

Hector walked back into the Ship and picked up one of the medical crates. He began moving towards the field hospital. Pausing a moment, he activated his commlink and contacted the Deathwatch Artillery Battalion.

“Major Ricmore checking in, how’s everyone holding up?”

“Got tired of hanging with the flyboys major?”

“Ha! You wish. Nah figured I could do more good planetside than against the Collective fleet. Besides I’ve got a plan that I could use your help with.”

The comm unit crackled with a variety of responses from the men and women of the Battalion.

“Count me in major.”

“Are we going to blow something up again?”

“Getting back at the Collective? You don’t need to even ask.”

The Zygerrian let out a pleased smirk. “Happy to hear the approval. Now I’m certain you all have realized that the Collective lacks any proper transports for their infantry, they need to land capital ships in order to offload any of their troops.”

He paused for a minute as he dropped off the crate of medical supplies.

“Landing their capital ships puts them at risk from our artillery and heavy weapons platforms. Many of which are currently occupied with the swarms of fighters above the city but I have a plan to deal with them.”

“Is it dangerous or stupid?”

“I’m hurt that you would jump to that conclusion.”

“Is it dangerous or stupid?”

Hector let out a huff. “Dangerous, but only to me. Normally it would also affect allied pilots but the Iron Legion’s orders to keep the skies clear still stands.”

“What could possibly be a risk to all allied fighters?”

“Massive Emp detonation.”

“Are you mad? You could cripple our entire comm network!”

“As long as the transmitters are outside the range it should be fine. The ships should be high enough to ensure that happens. If not, the Collective will be just as hampered as we are and we can deal with it then. I’ll need some volunteers to help unload my ship and load the emp devices onboard.”

Some of the battalion agreed. The supplies were offloaded, the E Webs set up in strategic positions, and the emp devices brought onto the ship.

As some of the volunteers were returning to their positions Hector noticed a short Pantoran walking towards him.

“Hello there! Major Ricmore right?”
“Yes, can I help you?”

“Ah, you can call me Sei. Bossman heard about your plan and sent me in case things go wrong. I’m a scout, I’ll be your eyes and ears on the Collective.”

The Strategist nodded. “A bit of insurance couldn’t hurt. I want you with the Deathwatch Artillery Battalion by the Proton artillery. The vantage point will allow you to have eyes and the Collective and you can act as a spotter if needed.”

The Pantoran was practically vibrating with excitement. “Yessir, I’ll be on my ways now.”
He turned and bolted towards his assigned position.

Hector shook his head mirthfully before climbing onto the Diplomatic Short Hauler. Strapping himself in, he turned on the ship before lifting off into the air.

The Collective fighters were on him in moments, blaster fire ripping through the light armor of his ship.

Unbuckling his harness, Hector quickly ran towards the small hangar within his ship. Opening the cockpit of the escape craft, the Zygerrian all but threw himself into his V wing, Ship within a Ship.

The pilot opened the hangar doors and flew out into the atmosphere.

Some of the Collective fighters broke formation to chase. He couldn’t allow that.

Activating his commlink, Hector contacted his Deathwatch allies. “Activate the EMP now.”

“We can’t. You aren’t clear of the blast radius!”

“Just activate it now!” The Zygerrian yelled.

A distant explosion alerted Hector that his order had been followed. His descent towards the planet's surface became a chaotic death spiral as he lost all control over his ship.

“Son of a Kath Hound.”

Beep beep beep beep

Alarms sounded throughout the ship as the pilot struggled to regain any semblance of control over his vessel. Rebooting the system, Hector was able to nudge the ship just enough to avoid smash into a building, instead the V wing clipped the side and began to spin out of control.

The Zygerrian wrestled with the controls, desperately trying to end the spinning and fix the ships descent. The ship continued to spin until it smashed into the ground and everything went black.

Some time later

Hector awoke to the bright red light of a flare shining above the crash site. Blinking his eyes at the harsh light he attempted to get up, only to collapse as a sharp pain ripped through his chest.

“You doing okay down there buddy?”

Raising his head towards the voice Hector saw a head of purple hair and pale blue skin illuminated by the flare.

Sei reached down and pried open the cockpit. Placing his arms under Hector’s armpits, he lifted him up and out of the ship. As he lifted Hector, the Zygerrian’s boot caught the edge of the ship, causing them both to tumble to the ground.

“Aaargh” He shouted in pain.

The Pantoran got up and rushed over. “Kriff, sorry man. You really aren’t looking so good.”

The pair heard footsteps and voices growing closer. Sei got up and called “Oi! We’re over here”

Hector’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait! We don’t know if their friendly”

Sei crouched down and patted Hector on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it big guy. You crashed closer to our lines. Besides, your plan seemed to have worked out perfectly. With the fighters blown straight to the afterlife our cannons were able to focus on their ground forces. Their armor can’t get near our lines and we’re holding quite well thanks to the E Webs you brought.”

The footsteps grew even closer and revealed a strike team of Vizsla troops. They gathered around the pair and lifted Hector up before carrying him to a field hospital.