Log:Sith: Purse Strings: Part 3

Purse Strings: Part 3

OOC Date: April 4, 2025
Location: Koto-si, Neimoidia
Participants: Bors Thul, Lynoriel Thrace, Orvaine Strakke, Roan, Aitax Rendon as GM

Barely two days since the *Ravenous* had arrived in Neimoidia with three frigates, and the warship was back in orbit, its ominous triangular bulk looming large in the atmosphere of the world. Smallest of the star destroyer classes still in Imperial service, the Victory II was able to enter the planet's atmosphere directly, descending low enough that its main guns could provide direct cover for the shuttles, troop transports, and walker landers that deployed the army detachment of the Ravenous onto the surface of the world.

Indigo oceans and a cultivated landscape of vivid orange and golden fields surrounded the sprawling capital city of Koto-si, with enormous harvester beetles making methodical progress through the colorful rows. It was across one such field that the deploying Imperial troops had their first view of the distant capital city on the horizon. Reports had described Neimoidian ground defenses as 'laughable', but not only were they outnumbered and massively outgunned, lacking any armor or artillery, but any skilled soldier could plainly see that their deployment made no sense for any defense of the capital. Two battalions of conscripted militia infantry, armed with antique E5 rifles, without armor and uniformed only in dull hooded gray were entrenched at an exposed rocky outcropping many kilometers east from the walls of the city, while a last remaining squadron of R41 Starchasers rose from Koto-si to hopelessly oppose the formations of walkers, landing craft, and brigades of stormtroopers of a professional Sith army advancing from the south.

Colonel Borgent Zam was the ranking Ravenous detachment officer, a four-armed Besalisk in grey armor, communicating with the other officers via hologram from aboard a tall AT-AT walker. <<"This is Colonel Zam; the main cannons on my walkers will rout those infantry before they can fire a shot. No idea why they've abandoned the city, but this will be over soon.">>

Landed planetside aboard a shuttle from the RSD Merciless was one of Darth Kalus' councilors: Idan Jensa, a short, thin Neimoidian in a flat, square-topped hat, wearing black robes trimmed in purple and red. Without any real authority, the little alien was present only as an advisor, yet he still spoke over comms. <<"With respect, Coronel.. defeating the militia is.. unnecessary. They are placed to defend one of the few remaining ancestral grub-hatcheries. I.. strongly advise focus on the capital. The militia pose no threat.">>

Colonel Dizz Copyrighter stands stoically before a holoprojector aboard the Dark Pearl. Far from the conflict, the Human warleader carries an aire of permanent disdain and detatchment. "Hatcheries are irrelevant. Focus all forces on the city." There is a stoic pause before the Human adds, "May the Force be with us."

Thrace was generally fine being with the Ravenous' detachment for ground battles. And she was down on the ground with the other troops. She's in full armor today, her helm firmly in place and the vocoded voice that comes with it is often heard talking to the troops that sweep in. When you're a smidge away from six feet tall and carrying a laser sword it is EASY to pinpoint you in a battle. "We'll hope that this isn't some elaborate trap, won't we little one." she mutters to the droid that rolls at her side. Because he is STUBBORN. And doesn't leave. Plus he likes shocking people.

A-Wing pilots are insane.

It doesn't matter if it has been years since he sat in a proper cockpit. Flown without a droid, riding on what equated to a giant, overcharged, engine with guns and a saddle. He had earned a personal Whisper class in his time serving His Queen in her journey to keep Alderaan from coming under the scrutiny of the Empress.

It wasn't as fast. But it was close.

<<"Alpha Leader, ground command, my elements are in place. Prepared for our runs.">>

Trees branches, grass and an immense amount of dirt and detritus were being carried in the wake of the fighter's passage - low enough to the ground that the other TIE pilots had opted to keep moderate 'crash' distance.

With the ground based fighter squadron in the air, the Neimoidian capital activates a flickering shield to ward off the worst of the expected assault. The Neimoidian Home Defense Legions hold their positions kilometers to the east, as the lobsided battle begins in earnest…

The fighters of the Dark Pearl are feared for a reason. Shrieking through the skies, the squadron obliterates the screening forces arrayed before Bors' Bombers, breaking off before they make contact with the shield. Sadly, however, they are in no position to help the bombers from ground fire until the shields actually drop, and are still circling around for another run as the Ravenous' heavy bombers are scattered.

<<"Dark Pearl elements. Need those fighters off the bombers...">>

Flak and fighter units sweeping into his fighter squadrons wrecking havoc and sending many to eject or ground, flames and wreckage tumbling from the air in the aftermath of the exchange, leaving precious few of the bombing fighters left in the air following the initial exchange.

"Bollocks..." Tapping a comm online to broadcast on squad channels <<"Ravenous, heavy damage to Alpha Squadron, need to switch focus until the air is cleared...">> If there's enough to continue the runs after that exchange at the least. Alpha Leader continues terrain following, and red indicators fill Bors's HUD to show the members of the squadron put out of action.

"Bloody hell..."

<<"Walker group -- target the shield array. Suppression fire, staggered cadence. Focus your secondaries on the emitter ridges.">> Orvaine's voice rings out, cool and controlled, over the comms. She keeps her dark blue gaze on the translucent dome ahead, barely blinking. The scout walkers obey, pivoting as one. The next moment, bright flashes of red light the sky, bolts hammering into the distant projection with a series of dull, rhythmic thuds.

Cracks spider through the barrier's edge -- not a collapse, but a visible weakening, shimmering with instability as the barrage continues. Enough to make Lieutenant Strakke smirk with a grim sort of pleasure. One of the stormtroopers mutters over comms, <<"Direct hit.>> As if Orvaine needed the confirmation...

She's watching everything. Maybe a bit too closely.

Thrace's head tilts up when there is the bombs that get taken out and there is a frown behind that matte black helm that she wears. "It's never too early for explosives, is it?" she asks mainly herself. But a stormtrooper turns to look at her. Even in the helmet you can tell the look is 'sure lady...you do you...' for the answer. But she doesn't start lobbing grenades or planting anything beyond that. She pushes on with the group she's with.

The desperate charge of Starchasers had no chance of turning back the entire invasion, but the outdated fighters did manage to take revenge on the first of the enemies to assail their city: the air support of the Ravenous. In short order they in turn were routed or gunned down by a counter-attack of Dark Pearl TIEs leaving the distant militia battalions the last standing troops on the field to oppose the invasion. The Koto-si shields wavered under the combined fire, but were holding.

Deprived of the pleasure of facing an enemy who was shooting back, Colonel Zam in the heavy walkers rumbled over comms, <<"Complete the destruction of the shields. I mean to secure our flank.">> The heavy walkers began a slow, ominous turn, step by step to orient themselves eastward.

The reedy voice of Idan Jensa again broke over comms, <<"With all respect, honored officers of the Empire.. I must re-iterate that any damage done to the hatcheries will provoke greater resistance from the occupied populace-">> The walker colonel interrupted, <<"Someone get that civilian off our comms.">>

<<"Avoid the hatcheries. They need them to spawn young. If we strike them, then we will incite the entire planet. Cowardice lives as long as their young do not die.">> Bors's voice comes over comms, adjusting his targeting and swinging his craft round with his few remaining wingmen in tow.

Not enough to perform any service, the little standing of Alpha Squad limping to where they can ground and organize recovery operations.

<<"It will go poorly, otherwise. I promise.">>

Colonel Dizz (C) sighs and directs the fighters to intercept Zam's unwielding and uncivilized walkers. "Be sure to keep maximum distance. Annihilate the infantry. Leave the hatcheries as the Esteemed Scion of House Bors has di-rected." Super nasally. Very pish-posh, tut-tut, and so forth.

Another wave of fire had already softened the dome, leaving the city's shield buckling at the edges, its glow wavering like a flame starved of air. Then came Orvaine's walkers' second barrage -- precise, methodical. And devastating.

A sharp chime echoed from her console: SHIELD INTEGRITY -- 10%.

Orvaine's eyes flick over the data. She doesn't speak right away. The pale blue shimmer over Koto-si now sputtered and frayed, sections of the projection stuttering into nothing before reforming weaker, slower.

She doesn't smile...but the slight tension that left her shoulders was telling. <<"Maintain pressure. Bring it down. No delays.">> Her tone remains even, but something in it has shifted -- not urgency, but inevitability. The work was nearly done.

And now she watchs the men, not the city -- looking for the first signs of relief, hesitation, or the dangerous fantasy that this war might be easy. Because an Imperial Loyalty Officer's work was never done.

<<Target the city shield.>> Thrace instructs the infantry that is with her. She stalks forward, those long legs breaking into a run as she uses the Force to quicken her speed. We didn't use it for frivolous things, but if you needed to jump long distance and plant your lightsaber into something like it was a flag you could! She clears a path for the infantry and then aids in bringing down the shield as she stabs her lightsaber through one of the sides of the electronic paneling and starts to carve the metal open like a can opener.

The collapse of the city shields was inevitable, but the alacrity with which they fell was still surprising. No sooner had that flickering barrier broken, and the first red-armored troopers begun to approach the pillared gates than an open transmission on all available frequencies signaled the city's surrender. Empty streets greeted the Imperial scout walkers and stormtroopers, and densely packed houses within which the populace awaited their fates. The palace of the Trade Monarch was opulent and tall, but lacking in defenses; it would appear that all Neimoidians with the stomach to fight had taken position guarding the hatchery, where they remained staring down the distant towering durasteel of AT-AT walkers and circling TIEs.

Bors' admonition over comms drew a thoughtful rumble from the walker commander. <<"If the enemy militia do not lay down arms, they are inviting fire.">> He has the wit at least not to entirely disregard the nobleman's 'advice'.

The Certifiable Colonel Dizz acknowledges, broadcasting, "Defending militia, lay down thine arms and thou shalt not suffer the fires of the Imperium this day." A snarky comment from a TIE pilot gets a snarl from Dizz as he changes comms, "I have always spoken like that! No I am not mimicking Bors!" The Copyrighter flushes beet red at the cheeks, looking furious.

<<"Do not attack and they shall not fire. They defend the one place their young can be born. They lay eggs. They spawn like Duros.>> Tone firming, eyes narrowed behind his helmet as his ship touches down, one of the solar wings dropping off, forcing all the weight onto repulsors before his landing pegs can fully set down.

<<"Captains Rendon, Roan. Police your ground commanders before they launch the entire planet into full revolt.">>

Pure indignation from Colonel (C): <"Wh-what is the meaning of this? I was agreeing with you! Why I never.">

Lieutenant Strakke speaks over comms: <<"Understood, Commander Thul. Orders will be relayed accordingly.">>

A short pause -- then, colder, more clinical:<<"For the record, clarification is requested regarding protocol for ideologically noncompliant resistance protecting non-military assets. Recommend consistency in directive dissemination to prevent operational ambiguity.">>

She has a tendency to speak like this. But it's basically her job.

The AT-AT walkers lurch to a halt facing the rocky outcropping, the contained hatchery, and the two battalions of militia. The formation is well outside small arms range, but within range of the behemoth's main cannons; cannons which remain silent. <<"Ground forces: secure the city, royal palace, and starport. Keep appraised of progress, heavy artillery will hold present position.">>

<<Do not fire on the hatcheries.>> Thrace tells her little bunch of infantry as she yanks the lightsaber from the panel she had carved through. She turns, robes moving as she does and there is a frown behind her helm. She not giving orders to others, just the group under her command for the moment. She stalks back towards her group, making sure they have their orders and that they are listened to. With the ground conflict over, Dizz Darklighter-Copyrighter immediately flicks off the comms, looking annoyed. "Why that puffed up Thul! How dare he. My lineage extends much further back than his does. And doesn't lead to a dead planet."

Dizz turns around to find Roan standing a few steps away, arms folded, looking displeased. The Definitely Human Commander blinks, looking around. The other staff suddenly pretend to be very, very busy as their commander slowly looks back to Roan. "...What? The battle went very well, don't you think?"

Roan glowers.

"You, uh, heard all that, huh?"

"Yes. I did."

Inside her scout walker, Lieutenant Strakke remains perfectly still, eyes narrowed behind field lenses. <<"Lieutenant Strakke reporting -- city sectors under Imperial control. Starport sweep underway.">> Her voice crackles coolly over comms. <<"No engagement from militia. Standing by for updated directive.">>

She lowers the transmitter, gaze drifting toward the rock-bound hatchery in the distance -- its defenders unmoving, ceremonial, pathetic.

Behind her, one of the stormtroopers shifts slightly, the tension of restraint visible even behind plastoid. But Orvaine says nothing to him. Mercy, if unclaimed, had a way of rotting discipline from within. She logs the moment, wordlessly, fingers tapping her datapad in exacting rhythm. No doubt, he'll be sweating beneath the armor.