A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

Operation [Styx]: Call to Arms


Warm yourself up to a sprint, because here comes a Run-On!

The rules are as follows:

250 word count minimum, though no maximum.

No double posts.

Try to allow two other members to post before you post again. However, if no one has posted in a while you can go ahead and post.

Have fun, don’t stress the details and try and tell a full and enjoyable story! Good luck team!


Port Ol’val Asteroid Field
Broken Blade
Control Room


Deep within the bowels of the Broken Blade, a large spherical unit hummed in happy equilibrium. Within it sat three rather large Yaka, their ages undetectable from their impassive faces. On the inside of the sphere were a myriad of images, ever changing under the small consoles placed in front of them. They lay back in a cradle made fit for each of them, reclining and allowing a relaxed state as their cybernetic minds processed a constant stream of information.

One of them jumped suddenly, its fingertips a blur as they tapped their way across the console. The other two stopped to look and then undertook the same desperate typing. A wall of slice code coated the changing images, when suddenly only one image remained. The building shown on the spherical screens quickly changed into multiple images of it from many angles. They finished typing and one hit ‘send’.

A five note chord played shrilly over the intercom of the ship and the technicians in the control room immediately leapt from their seats. It was not from surprise, their expressions were too determined to suggest fear as they each sprinted to other panels within the room. The head technician cleared her throat before connecting her comms.

“Attention all personnel: Level 5 Crisis-in-progress. Immediate dock to Port!”


Cecilia cursed all the way from the refresher to the control room. Her skin tight Loyalist uniform pressed, stainless and impressive as ever. But that was all she could manage in such a short amount of time. Her usually strict bun was a mass of long, thick curly hair. The curly, magenta strands billowed outward as she rushed into the control room and she took no time to catch her breath. Someone handed her a datapad and immediately a plan of action fired it’s way through her logical mind.

“Tech Division: I need all Operatives in the field immediately, have nearby Holds highlighted for them- Communications, open all channels for MG comms and have a repeated alert sounded to any personal comms for roll call- Tactics, I want a full holomap up within the next 30 seconds. I want entries, exits, vantages and blind spots until I tell you to stop. Logistics, where and why did this alert originate? You have 20 seconds to explain. Go.”

She ran a hand through her extravagant head of hair and the room sighed. It was tough work being amazing.


Port Ol’val
Jerem Plaza
Cheap and Briny Inn

“No, I’m out of the door now, I’m just walking really carefully, that’s why you can’t hear it,” Myrji took his finger from the comms device behind his ear to enjoy a full moment of yawning before returning it, “Yeah I’m dressed now. 40 seconds. 4 o’clock from my position. Got it.”

His finger dropped again and he steadied his breathing. The Force rushed into him and his vision seemed brighter. Not in a traditional sense by any means. His head remained quite still, but his vision was the whole room behind him and the buildings through the windows of his grotty room. For a Miraluka, the Force acts as their eyes, illuminating the world around them in shades of grey, the only colour of any kind the emotions and thoughts of sentience. Myrji was not just people watching, however, as his senses suddenly began to rush outward into one direction. He knew where to go and was out through the window before making a sound.

He hit the streets running, half finished slipping into his coat. His hair spilled out behind him as he tore through one street to leap up onto a low-roofed shop. From there, he didn’t stop vaulting. The Force thudded in his ears as he pushed himself faster and higher, his heavy boots somehow making only the slightest of noises. He made haste on a route he had perfected long before. There were few true allies within the levels of the Port, with the former crime Triumvirate still licking their wounds from a very hostile takeover performed by the House itself. FOTW was the worst of them for Myrji. Not content with sweeping the terrain with sensory droids they also attached static sensors to the buildings, changing their location after a random amount of time. This meant he had to find safe routes to get to and from locations and put restrictions on the freedom of his path choices, though it did help that his vision was so all-encompassing - it was difficult to catch him by surprise.

He scrambled up the side of a multi-story residence, the Force practically bouncing him from window ledge to window ledge. At the roof he shimmied along before dropping down onto a wide ledge. It was a ritzier part of the level, with Hotels and Inns springing up every few buildings. The largest of these was the Jewelled Iron Hotel, started by one of the original miners within the Port and the inordinate amount of wealth that her profession awarded her. It had changed hands a few times before settling with Besadii sympathisers and was a hotbed for syndicate meetings.

A tentative touch through the Force made the youth turn his head to the streets below as he crouched immobile on the ledge. A large, shadowy figure stood just out of view in a side street close to the multi-storey building. It gave an almost imperceptible nod, that Myrji returned before pressing the comm strip behind his ear.

“Zakath and I are here already. The Jewelled Iron? Really? From the looks of it, they’re having a party. I see at least 70 guests, mostly mundanes, and almost double that number for security.”

“That’s an accurate estimation. According to the Triplets, we have a whistleblower inside, a bitter Acolyte on their way out from the Brotherhood. It seems he’s found a few sympathetic ears as we’ve had to be on the ball for the last two minutes deflecting encrypted data dumps with details on the House itself.”

A coldness gripped his chest, “How bad?”

“We have every available Operative in key strike points around the building. This is the play we’re going for.”

She explained the plan articulately, wasting no time for breath or unnecessary detail. Myrji absorbed it quickly, noticing the Barabel nodding along with him below.

“That’d do it. Alright Styx, do you copy? It’s time we fix this. Sound out!”


“Thiz iz Zakath. Standing by.”

Zakath listened impassively as the team sounded off and keyed in a private frequency to Mryji on his comm set.

“Commander, my team iz standing by. Give the signal once you are inzide, and we will begin breaching the hotel,” Zakath paused as he listened. “Acknowledged.”

“We’re about ready, boss.” A electronic voice spoke from behind him, and Zakath turned to see the armored figure of Larrik Dul’vak striding toward him, blaster rifle in hand.

“Good. Thiz can look like nothing like a targeted kidnapping,” Zakath growled as he glanced back at the small team. “And we will need to move fazt. We do not the manpower nor the inclination to suztain a full azzault on the Hotel.”

“I know my job, boss,” Larrik snorted as he looked up at the Barabel, his expression hidden behind his helmet. “You just do yours, and we’ll deliver what you hired them for.”

“Very wel-” Zakath cocked his head as he listened to a sudden crackle in his headset. After a moment, he nodded to Larrik.

Larrik immediately understood his cue and spun on his heel. “Men, we’re about ready! Sarge, you got the explosives ready?”

“Yeah, just give the word.” A Gran grunted out in Huttnese as he packed the last of the explosive blocks into his satchel.

“Good man,” Larrik let out a harsh chuckle as he faced the rest of his motley team. “Alright, boys! Let’s lock and load, we got us some rich folk to snatch up and sell back for a pretty credit.”

Zakath smiled to himself as he put on his own customized helmet, crafted to fit his Barabel skull. As soon as the helmet clicked around his head, the computers came online and holographic displays sprang into existence. A tap on the controls attached to his arm, and the infrared sensors switched on, bathing the scene in warm hues of oranges and reds. Another press of a button brought the IFF system online, painting his own team in cool blues.

“Everything is ready on your end, Zakath?” Cecilia’s cool and professional voice suddenly spoke up in his headset.

“Yez. Juzt give the word, and we’ll begin.”

“Good. Stand by.”


Rins’zler sat alone in the cold cargo bay of a freighter he had booked passage on. The steady hum of the engines vibrated the space-chilled air, a billow of steam pluming from his lips with every exhale. The ship pulled into the Kas Tunnel, carefully meandering it’s way through the corkscrew entrance to Port Ol’val, evoking more than a little impatience from the Knight. He requested the assignment to Battleteam Styx soon after he had returned, he knew its members well but his situation after the Perdition conflict meant that he had no time to gain passage straight from the Broken Blade. Instead, relying on one of his many spare identities he gained transit on a small freighter heading to the Shadowport for trade. Aware of the need for secrecy he kept all unnecessary contact to a minimum and maintained his personage as a member of the Order of Darknell; a small and relatively unknown group of mysteriously attired monks. Few of their order were ever seen beyond the walls of their monastery on Qi Lozar, he explained to the pilot, mainly because the order didn’t actually exist. It was a cover created he had used successfully in the past, it came out of one of the many ruses and shell organisations used by his uncle’s various arms businesses. Rins’zler had occasionally required a suitable cover story to gain access to specific targets or bounties. The repulsor engines fired against the artificial gravity of the asteroid’s interior and the Sith smiled lightly beneath his mask.

Rins’zler drifted through the Port’s customs offhandedly, using the Force briefly on the minds of the customs officers- just enough to make them forget the warnings their scanners gave as they detected his excessive armament. The unnerving quality to his mask and clothing silenced any other questions and they waved him through to the Ducts with haste. The asteroid appeared well established and bustling, a various collection of species rushing from one Hangar to another. As he made his way through the passageways he found himself to be more and more impressed with it’s layout. From the occasional portholes within the walls, the Knight briefly noticed the distant civilian sectors spread out within the structures hollow body, the vastly different styles of buildings blending together with ease. He had dealt with a few illegal Ports in his time, but never one so large.

I could afford to place some roots here. Interesting.

He passed the last of the Hangars when a sudden crackling sound buzzed in his ear.

“Omega Team engaging nexzt objective, Alpha Team Stand By.””, it was Zakaths slithering tones. Rins’zler heard the others reply, but his location did not allow him to respond at this time, instead he sent a flash message via their intel link, with luck that would reach them.

The Hotel stood in front of him, its monumental size and the quality of its crafting making it stand out in its dishevelled environment. It sat on the edge of the slums, striking a strange comparison with the shabby housing opposite it.

A Hotel untouched in such a rough neighbourhood? Suspicious.

Rins’zler overlooked it with disinterest, scanning the area to confirm the logical entry point his team had likely used. Assuming the team had first class intell, technical schematics and support from their tactical advisor, he had enough experience with infiltration to be wary of ignoring his instincts, preferring to get a read of the environment for himself before acting. The sensors built into the Sith’s mask scanned the area, marking local com channels and checking feed data. A clear heat trail detected through his mask’s infrared filter confirmed his suspected path and he made his way to the entrance. Snippets of com chatter on Omega Team’s channel revealed that they had arrived at the entry point and were preparing to breach.

Rins’zler abandoned his slow, pensive gait and slipped into the grounds, keeping as much cover between him and the various guests and busboys that dotted the premises. He sprinted towards the rear of the building, a service door catching his eye. He inspected the latch carefully, noticing it had already been expertly removed. It lead into a series of more secure passageways and staff shortcuts, the area seemingly devoid of security cameras and sensors.

Definitely suspicious.

Rins’zlers visor detected faint evidence of damage and he suspected that Celevon had dealt with whomever had been unlucky enough to have guard duty. He carefully opened the door and followed any signs of a struggle, his robes gliding silently across the floor. Faint blood stains marked where security personnel had been professionally silenced-, the signs only hidden to a casual observer.

Rins’zler activated his com.

“Operative Rins’zler at entry point. Orders?”

“Hmph, juzt in time. Proceed to our location with hazte.”

Nodding to himself, Rins’zler moved deeper into the service tunnels until he sensed a threat ahead. A group of gruff security personnel inspected the remains of a wall panel by an open doorway. The Knight’s HUD honed in on a particular member of the group, a com signal detected on his person.

Immediately, the Sith’s instincts took over and an arm swiftly gestured towards the group. One figure stiffened and began to stumble but by the time the body was halfway from falling, Rins’zler had already unleashed a whistling conduction of blades as they met with soft flesh and expert precision. Their deaths were quick and free of fear, their mouths and eyes open for all eternity in confounded surprise. He regarded the silent forms for a few moments before finding a storage closet to hide them in, retracting his blades and clearing them of gore before returning them to his robes.

After a quick burst of his sensors, he detected ally signals, noting the area that they attended was a weak point in the Hotel’s structure. He made a low sound of approval and approached his team casually.

As he rounded a corner, he came across the small squad under Zakath’s command. They worked quickly to attach a small explosive to a seemingly random area of a wall, but Rinzler’s mask told him otherwise. His sensor array cut through the materials of the walls to show the building’s support structure. He approached the Barabel and Human, to which the latter turned to face him.

“Ah, our new recruit. I hope the trip here wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

Detecting the sarcasm in the Loyalists voice, the Sith chuckled, his mask releasing the sound in hissing notes.

“Yhour chonzern ihs nhoted- yhet uhnecezzary. I’hve dhealt whith fhar whorse.”

Zakath turned to greet Rins’zler, his purple reptilian eyes assessing him from his towering perspective. The Barabel nodded to the Knight, the smell of conflict on the Sith’s blades easily detected by the reptile’s senses.

“Good work. Our firzt objective iz almozt complete. Two chargez more until nexzt phaze.”

The Sergeant began a brief explanation of their next step when the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted him.

“We have bogeys, sir.”