A/N: I think these yearly chapter releases are going to be the norm for now unless I can somehow spin out more. I just changed jobs again and I think I've finally found an ideal career that gives me the best conditions I need all around with good pay and benefits with the stability to allow me time to write.
Not much storyline progress but more of building up towards the attack on the Balmorran Arms Factory. For you sleazy fans of mine, more smut-with-plot action in this chapter.
For all of you who have stayed on this story despite my slow updates: Thank you! Your reviews mean alot to me and always motivate me to keep writing.
Chapter 19
Vette stared at Aaric, her blue-skinned face twisted in disbelief. "Say what now?"
Aaric's expression remained cold and calculating. "You heard me."
Lieutenant Quinn, however, was hesitant. "My lord... I beseech you with all due respect. This plan of yours is—"
The Twi'lek cut her off. "Okay... Let me get this straight. You want me to disguise myself as a resistance fighter, somehow slip past all those security and defenses, get into the factory and disable both the main and backup generators?"
"That's the gist of it, yes," Aaric confirmed, his tone unwavering.
Vette's skepticism lingered. "You do know that's basically a suicide mission you're sending me on?"
Aaric's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Not exactly. You're getting in with a little help from our target himself."
"Rylon?" Vette's voice carried a hint of concern. "Doesn't that mean he knows what's going to happen to him?"
"No," Aaric replied. "After I pitched the idea to Lord Baras... Well, let's just say he's less than thrilled to rely on a slave for something like this. However, after much convincing, he's willing to pitch in to help make this easier for you."
Vette's brow furrowed in confusion. "Help from Rylon? What kind of help?"
Aaric's golden eyes gleamed with a sinister glint. "He contacted Rylon during a scheduled communique, and he sent over schematics to produce a resistance code cylinder. This should allow you to pass through under a fake identity with enough security clearance to reach the generators. He also sent through the schematic layout for the entire factory so you won't get lost."
A chill ran down Vette's spine as the pieces fell into place. "Rylon's under the impression that this little plan of ours is part of an operation to undermine the resistance?"
Aaric's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Little does he know, once you've done your part, he would be assisting in his own demise."
Vette's apprehension grew. "Alright, sure... But I can't just waltz up to those big guns and expect that they'll let me through, can I?"
Quinn at this moment decided to interject. "As much as I would like to dissuade you from enacting this plan… Actually, you can. With all the progress that the Consolidation Corps is making thanks to your efforts, the resistance members around the area have been scrambling back towards the factory in an attempt to regroup and consolidate their forces before they get caught behind enemy lines."
A flicker of understanding sparked in Vette's eyes. "So, I just need to blend in with their stragglers?"
Aaric nodded. "Trust me. Just rough yourself up with some dirt and make a run for it during the cover of night, and you'll fit right in!"
Vette sighed, her doubts not entirely dispelled. "I really don't like this."
Aaric's tone turned stern. "I'm not asking you to like it. I'm asking you to do it."
The Sith apprentice rolled his eyes as his Twi'lek slave visibly deflated. "If it makes you feel any better," Aaric sighed. "there's one thing I can promise you... Whether or not you manage to shut down those generators, I will definitely come for you. I won't leave you behind."
Vette's voice trembled with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "R-really?"
Aaric's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Well, I can't just lose my most valuable slave, can I? Who's arse am I going to spank if not yours?"
Vette rolled her eyes, her tension momentarily breaking. "Way to ruin the mood, asshat..." she whispered, not knowing that Aaric definitely heard it. "Maybe it won't be such a bad idea after all."
Vette's heart still raced, but a newfound determination burned within her. The path ahead was treacherous, but she maybe… just maybe she was no longer alone in the shadows.
"THIS IS TOTALLY A BAD IDEA! Please don't hit me, please don't hit me, please don't hit me! HELLLP! HELP ME!"
The Balmorran landscape was a canvas of chaos, bathed in the fading hues of dusk. Smoke billowed across the horizon, punctuated by blaster bolts that streaked through the air like shooting stars. In the midst of the turmoil, a figure emerged, sprinting across the war-ravaged terrain with a desperate urgency. This was Vette, a Twi'lek slave with skin as blue as the sky, and she was playing a dangerous game of deceit.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she projected an image of sheer panic. "They're everywhere! I need cover!" Her voice quivered with fear, and her eyes darted around as if seeking salvation.
A distance away, Aaric signalled for his troopers to open fire on the Twi'lek… but to ensure that they missed their mark to assist Vette with creating an environment for authenticity so the resistance fighters would be none the wiser through the chaos.
Red plasma bolts streaked past Vette as she visibly flinched and tried to dodge. She scrambled up towards the slope where the ridgeline had been fortified by bunkers and turbolaser emplacements.
Responding to her cries, the Balmorran Resistance fighters manning their posts sprung into action. Rallying around her, they unleashed a hail of blaster fire towards the Imperial forces, creating a protective cocoon of camaraderie.
Their leader barked orders, "Get her behind the barricade!"
Vette stumbled towards safety, her breath ragged as if she had narrowly escaped death. She glanced back, her eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and gratitude, convincing the Resistance soldiers that she was one of their own – a fellow warrior trapped in this deadly crossfire.
A concerned Resistance soldier rushed to her side, his voice laced with worry. "You okay, friend?"
Vette nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead despite the cooling evening air. "Yeah, just got separated from my squad. Those bucketheads are relentless."
The battle continued to rage around them, but now Vette was shielded by the belief that she was a Resistance fighter. Amidst the tumult, a discerning resistance soldier, an officer if she had to assume by the pins on his chest, approached her, his eyes sharp and assessing.
"State your name and rank, soldier," he demanded, his tone a mix of caution and authority.
With practiced composure, Vette's hand found the code cylinder hanging around her neck. This was a lifeline, a slender piece of metal that Aaric, her Sith owner, had entrusted to her. She offered it to the officer, hoping that its secrets would buy her freedom.
"Private Vette, 5th Division. Code cylinder should clear me," she replied, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.
The Resistance Officer accepted the cylinder, his gloved fingers manipulating the buttons with a deliberation that felt agonizingly long. Suspense hung in the air like a weight, the outcome of this perilous gamble uncertain.
"It's an older code." The officer stated, eyeing Vette with suspicion. For a split second, Vette wondered if the jig was up. Was she going to fail just seconds after stepping foot inside the enemy's lair?
Finally, a nod of approval. "But it checks out. Please remember to change your security codes promptly! I'll overlook it this time. Report to the intelligence division to get the codes updated."
Relief surged through Vette, though she concealed it behind a mask of gratitude. She had cleared the first hurdle of her mission, but the real test was just beginning. As the battle raged on, she blended seamlessly with other resistance fighters that were straggling in under the cover of the factory's immense perimeter defenses, her stolen identity becoming her shield.
The sun sank below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. With the Resistance gaining ground, Vette watched as the Imperial forces retreated, acknowledging the success of her act.
Glancing at the code cylinder that dangled around her neck, she couldn't help but think of Aaric, the Sith Apprentice whose malevolent machinations had set this all in motion. His plan had worked, for now. But Vette knew that her true struggle had just begun – to maintain her façade, to aid the Resistance, and most importantly, to forge a path to liberation from the chains of her enslavement… or so she thought.
And so, as the shadows lengthened and the echoes of blaster fire subsided, Vette steeled herself for the battles yet to come.
Back to where Aaric was, he ordered his men to stop firing and pull back before the resistance fighters decided to train the turbolasers on them. From his macrobinoculars he could see the distant figure of Vette disappearing from the ridgeline to the other side.
The first step had been accomplished. Now all he had to do was prepare and wait… giving him more than enough time to set his attention on other matters.
The sleek corridors of the small barracks echoed with the measured clicks of Lieutenant Quinn's boots. Her impeccable uniform and composed demeanor were emblematic of her reputation as a strict, professional, and highly competent Imperial officer. As she strode towards her quarters, she couldn't shake off the feeling that today would be anything but routine.
"Good evening." came a voice that cut through the relative silence. Quinn turned to see the Sith Apprentice, leaning against the wall. He had already discarded his armor in favor of more comfortable clothes.
Most Sith would continue wearing their armor at all times; something which Aaric scoffed at since they almost always tried to appear strong or fearsome even if most situations did not require it. The apprentice knew that to score pussy, one had to be charming and appear disarmed and approachable.
Aaric's eyes danced with an intent that Quinn knew too well.
"Back so soon?" Quinn replied, her voice measured. "I assumed you'd be on the front lines with Lady Lachris and Colonel Vrain for a while longer."
Aaric grinned, his charisma radiating like a palpable force. "Nothing ever escapes past you doesn't it? Almost makes me think you're always keeping track of me. I wonder why is that? Baras' orders perhaps?"
"It is simply my duty to ensure your safety, my lord." Quinn deflected with relative ease. "You are Lord Baras' apprentice and the best chance at achieving his goals."
Heh... Sure it is. Aaric deadpanned. "I see. If you must know there isn't much to do there but wait. I trust Vette will complete her assignment as commanded."
"You seem to put a lot of faith in your slave, my lord." Quinn cautioned. "How sure are you that she won't turn against you? Against us? Against the Empire? It will be all too easy for her to defect and the entirety of Balmorra becomes at risk of breaking from the Empire's grasp."
"That is definitely a risk." The apprentice agreed. "However she's more loyal than she looks for a slave. Let's just say she's experienced much more in life that makes her views on the Jedi and the Republic less than ideal. And the time I've spent with her ensures that she knows that I can afford her the certainty and security she desires, even if she does not know it herself."
"I see. I hope for the sake of the Empire as a whole that you're right." Quinn nodded. "Is there something else you require, my Lord?"
Aaric's lips curled, further stepping towards the officer. "I believe it's time we claimed that implied offer of dinner and drinks we've been subtly dancing around about. With my trusty sidekick temporarily absent, I find myself seeking a different companion."
"Of course, after I am finished submitting my report," Quinn interjected, a hint of hesitancy in her voice as the Sith Apprentice invaded her personal space.
"Lord Baras did imply you're at my disposal, did he not?" Aaric's words hung in the air, laden with insinuation.
Quinn hesitated, taking a step back only to meet the cold durasteels walls preventing her retreat, her eyes searching Aaric's face for clarity. "Well, not in those exact words, but I suppose the intent is clear."
"Then the report can wait," Aaric purred, his tone dripping with allure, eyes clearly drinking up her slender hourglass frame. "Change into something befitting the occasion. I'll wait with you."
A mixture of unease and curiosity swirled within Quinn. She couldn't help herself but turn her head, avert her eyes and blush. "My Lord, it is my personal quarters," she protested. "It would hardly be proper for an officer to—"
Aaric's gaze intensified, his charismatic exterior now edged with a hint of dominance. "Relax, Quinn. We're alone. Officers and enlisted from both sexes alike share spaces for change and grooming. Surely, you're accustomed to such… camaraderie."
The Lieutenant opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself short. She knew what the Apprentice was doing. If it were anyone else, even Grand Moff Kilran himself, she would vehemently refuse and kick them out in a heartbeat!
But this time the situation was infinitely more complex. She was clearly instructed by Baras to gain Aaric's trust by any means necessary; even if it meant putting her own body to use. Quinn was glad that there was no one else around. She had finely cultivated a reputation of having earned her rank and station through her competence alone and not by showing off a bit of skin.
If anyone else saw her in such a compromising position, she would never be able to recover professionally. Then again, she had used Baras' instructions to tease and flirt with Aaric so his actions weren't unexpected. It was more of the timing in which he made his advances which were quicker than she had calculated.
Quinn would have to acquiesce to his... request. All for Lord Baras. Everything for his cause. She reminded herself.
Drawing a shuddering breath, Quinn faced the mirror that adorned one wall; her back facing the Sith who had allowed himself a seat so he could watch the impromptu striptease.
Her fingers deftly navigating the clasps of her uniform. The polished buttons relinquished their hold with each practiced touch, revealing the tantalizing expanse of her snow white skin beneath. The fabric of her top cascaded from her shoulders, a whisper of cloth falling to her feet, leaving her clad in just her pants and a simple utilitarian matte black bra.
Aaric drank in the scene unfolding before him, a portrait of restrained hunger. His eyes, the color of gold smoldering embers, were fixed on Quinn's transformation. The air was charged with a palpable tension, as her deft fingers fastened and unfastened the simple hook of her lingerie, finally allowing the hills adorning her bosom to drop free.
A tilt of his head was all the Sith needed to get the viewing angle he so desired. It was as if Quinn's bounteous bust had it's own repulsorlifts keeping it in such great shape with little to no sag. The light pink, inverted nipples cutely peaking her bosom. Aaric knew it was only a matter of time before he became the first, and hopefully the only one, to be blessed with sucking out the tips of those teats from their hiding place.
The fine hairs on Quinn's nape rose as she carefully draped her uniform over a chair. Her fingers trembled, the weight of her dual roles now a tangible burden. Her duty-bound facade juxtaposed with this intimate unveiling, the dichotomy echoing within her. Her voice, a mixture of apprehension and conviction, reached Aaric's ears. "This doesn't feel right, milord. Officers must uphold a level of modesty and self-respect."
The mask of charm chiselled into Aaric's features crumbled, revealing the raw determination of a Sith. "Come now, Quinn. Shed those inhibitions. You're no stranger to the presence of your peers." His voice, once velvet, now carried a note of dominance that beckoned her closer to the edge. "Yet, now you're with a Sith of distinction—me."
Her heartbeat echoed in the recesses of her ears as Quinn reluctantly slid both thumbs into the hem of her pants and pulled them down to, unsurprisingly, reveal a similarly utilitarian styled black briefs covering her derrière. Hesitantly, the same thumbs inserted into the hem of said briefs and slid off her gluteal region.
There lay Quinn's ass in its full unblemished and ivory glory. There was no flab and looked firm to the touch... if only Aaric could just reach out and grab them...
No. He would take his time with Quinn. Break down and peel off her prim and proper facade to see the vulnerable woman inside and twist her around his finger; break her allegiance to Baras. Soon.
Quinn stepped toward her wardrobe. Her fingers trailed over the silken black fabric of her only dress; a garment purposefully chosen with deliberation to accentuate her allure. As the dress flowed around her, every fold and contour seemed to weave a story of vulnerability and desire.
The Sith kept his expression even, but inwardly he was impressed at Quinn's daring to go commando in such a dress. It left much to the imagination.
And Aaric had a very healthy imagination.
Quinn's hesitation was a fleeting shadow in her eyes as she turned to meet Aaric's unwavering gaze.
The space between them shimmered with a charge beyond words, the unspoken tension unfurling like tendrils of smoke. Her transformation complete, Quinn stood before Aaric, her body now encased in the dress that accentuated every curve—a tapestry of allure and vulnerability woven with intention.
Aaric's predatory gaze remained fixed, his eyes tracing every nuance, as if assessing more than just her appearance. Quinn held her breath as their fate hung in the balance, a symphony of power, temptation, and the allure of the Dark Side.
"Perfect." Aaric complimented, rising from his seat and offering his arm. "Shall we, milady?"
Quinn could only take his arm and blush in extreme embarrassment, but mightily swallowed her pride. She hoped against hope that when the chance came she would pay him back for his transgression in spades.
The most unlikely couple drew many eyes as they made their way to and from the upper class cantina where they had their first dinner date.
To Quinn's surprise, despite the earlier striptease he had more or less promoted her to perform for him, her benefactor's apprentice behaved himself all the way from start to finish.
It wasn't pleasant by any means. She surmised that he could be acting as such simply to maintain the facade of gentlemanliness and keep her guard down. But Quinn wasn't going to be so easily seduced. She was the ice queen for kriff's sake!
Aaric himself could tell generally what was on the Lieutenant's mind the entire time. He was aware that she could somehow pick up what he was trying to do. But he was going to continue pushing it anyway.
To break the strong-minded woman he planned on intricately balancing a precarious game of gaslighting her whilst presenting favours, compliments and gifts whenever she did things that he wanted or liked.
It was a long game. But that was the point. Aaric loved games. Especially when he could rig them in his favour.
The couple enjoyed the most they possibly could given the situation. Aaric rented a private room with the best food available plus glasses of the Merenzane Gold he acquired from the owner of the previous establishment during what he personally dubbed as "The Sakoal Fiasco".
Despite her initial peeve, Quinn found herself slowly relaxing and opening up the more glasses she drank and the longer she conversed with the apprentice. She couldn't help but appreciate how Aaric could be such an intelligent conversationalist; always understanding, always replying and making her feel acknowledged unlike some other oafs who only wanted to get into her pants.
So when the night was done and he escorted her back to her personal quarters, Quinn was already half expecting him to try something... And no attempt was made.
A simple "Good night." ended their date. Utterly confused about his actions, she decided that it was only the alcohol impeding her thoughts and turned in for the night.
Aaric, though, still had more things to attend to before turning in.
The Sith Apprentice stepped through the sliding doors of his spaceship, the ambient hum a stark contrast to his commanding presence.
He ignored the standard stammering greetings of 2V-R8, making his way to his personal quarters where the droid had informed him that Kelara was waiting. There, seated in his chambers adorned with opulent fittings, was the former Mrs Sakoal. Her delicate beauty was eclipsed only by the air of apprehension that clung to her like a shroud. Once the wife of an Imperial science officer, Kelara now found herself ensnared in Aaric's schemes—a puppet with strings he held.
She sat on his bed, still in her imperial uniform minus the headwear. Obviously, she couldn't exactly grab her belongings anymore since it was still at Gann's residence and the disappearance of her belongings would seem out of place.
"Stand before me at attention." Aaric's commanding voice made her flinch. But she quickly recovered and did as she was told; Heels clicked, chest out, stomach in, ass out.
The Sith slowly circled her, inspecting his latest collection. Kelara looked like the epitome of 'young, dumb and full of cum': She was definitely still young, still relatively dumb by his standards but still smart enough to carry out simple tasks effectively... full of cum? Hardly. Something he would be correcting very soon.
"Kelara," Aaric's voice was a low, hypnotic rumble, "you are now a part of my retinue. In exchange for my protection and concealment, your loyalty is pledged to me alone."
Kelara's gaze met his, a mixture of fear and resignation swirling in her eyes. There was nothing left for her. Kelara Sakoal was officially dead according to imperial registers. "I understand, my Lord."
Aaric's lips curved, his power resonating as he circled her like a predator assessing its prey. "Whilst a new identity is being forged for you, your duties will be twofold, Kelara. First, you shall oversee my residence on Dromund Kaas. It is imperative that my abode remains impeccable and discreet."
She nodded, the weight of her new responsibilities settling upon her like a cloak. "Of course, my Lord."
Aaric's eyes gleamed with an intensity that was both captivating and foreboding. "Secondly, you shall be my emissary in the web of Imperial politics. Attend the gatherings, the parties, the galas as my representative. Observe, listen, and report to me. Your presence shall be inconspicuous, yet your gaze shall be ever watchful."
Kelara's hands tightened, her vulnerability plain in the clench of her jaw. "I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities, Lord Aaric."
Aaric moved closer, his presence enveloping her in a heady mixture of power and temptation. "Your compliance does not go unnoticed, Kelara. Your loyalty will be your only asset, and you shall be rewarded or punished for it."
The room seemed to close in around her as his words echoed, each syllable a thread that bound her fate to his. Kelara's gaze wavered, torn between the life she once knew and the precarious future that now lay before her.
Aaric extended a gloved hand, his touch as electrifying as it was chilling as it grabbed firmly onto the back of her nape. "Walk with me, Kelara. Let us discuss the intricacies of your new role."
The grip on her neck was firm, controlling. He talked gently, but the action clearly showed he was in charge.
As they moved through the corridors of the ship, Aaric's words wove a web of duty, manipulation, and whispered promises. Kelara's heart raced, her path irrevocably entwined with the enigmatic Sith before her. Carrying them both deeper into a shadowed dance of power and subjugation.
But Aaric, being a Sith apprentice, had a darker side. He wanted to ensure Kelara's loyalty, to drive fear deep into her soul. And so, he led her to the cargo hold of the ship.
Kelara gasped, hands clasping around her mouth in shock. There, on a cold metal table, lay a pink skinned Twi'lek woman, bound and helpless. Robotic tentacles snaked their way across her body, violating her in unspeakable ways. Aaric reveled in the sight, knowing it would serve as a chilling reminder to Kelara of the consequences of betrayal.
"Now, Kelara," he growled, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure, "should you ever consider betraying me, know that this fate awaits you. Your loyalty is not optional."
Kelara shuddered, her eyes wide with horror and understanding. She knew she had no choice but to comply, to play her role in this twisted dance of power and darkness.
Aaric led them out, allowing the doors to shut and give Kelara a reprieve from the sight. She was led back to his chambers and when those doors were shut behind them, her new lord and master pushed her against a wall with a hand pressed firmly around her throat.
Not enough to choke her completely, but enough to restrict her breathing where she had to put in extra effort to expand her lungs.
"Know this... You are nothing without me." The Sith hissed directly into her ear. "From here on out you are my property, my slave, nameless; to use in any way I deem fit wherever and whenever I want. You will make every part of yourself available to me and I expect nothing less than absolute obedience."
"Y-yes, my lord." Kelara struggled to reply as she suppressed the urge to grab onto his hand to try and relieve the pressure around her throat. She was dealing with a Sith now. A single wrong move and she could force-snap her neck right there and then! What could a mere human like her do against such odds other than to submit?
"Serve me faithfully and you will want for nothing. That much I can promise you. You can either take and learn to enjoy the pleasure that I give you..."
Aaric growled. "Or I can force that pleasure onto you in any way I see fit, just like that little pink Tweek bitch in the cargo hold. Either way, I get what I want. You will be anything I want you to be: the most alluring woman in the gala, or just a cum receptacle for my spunk afterwards. Understood?"
Kelara could only nod furiously for her life. There was no turning back now. She would be at this man's beck and call whenever he was planetside, enjoying his riches to sustain herself, attending imperial events and mingling with the political elite... all in exchange for being his housemaid-cum-sidepiece-cum-informat.
The alternative was certain death. She might have been considered a dumb blonde, but she wasn't that dumb.
"Good." Aaric purred. "First order of business... is to have a taste of you!"
"Kyahh!"
Eliciting a shocked cry, Kelara was thrown into the bed. Next she knew cold air was hitting the skin of her bosom as her new master pounced on her and ripped her uniform apart.
There was not enough time to cover herself in shame or embarrassment as Aaric dove to latch his mouth onto her pink, inviting teats and sucked as if his life depended on it. A free hand grabbed a handful of her breast and started squeezing and kneading.
Contrary to her expectations, there was not pain that she experienced but unbridled pleasure as she let out a slutty, guttural moan from her voicebox.
"Ooooohhh, milord Aaric… p-please… I belong to you now. Take me any way you see fit!"
It was clear to the apprentice that Kelara's rather large breasts were all natural and not enhanced as he had first surmised. The lack of fat on her body meant this woman most likely had more mammary glands than anything.
If he ever did decide to bear a child. Kelara would be an excellent wet nurse. A very sexy, slutty wet nurse that he could bang anytime he wanted.
His mouth switched targets and latched onto the other breast while a free hand ripped Kelara's pants with relative ease. Aaric pulled back and stepped away from the bed to quickly discard his clothing before continuing.
He licked his lips hungrily and gazed at the clean shaven, sopping wet snatch.
Good. He thought. She is easily aroused. Perfect for quickies.
Kelara, still reeling from the oral assault on her bosom, did her best to recover. Seeing where his sightline went, the former Mrs Sakoal blushed as she turned away whilst bringing her fingers down to her nether regions and spread her pussy lips as far apart as she could.
"F-for your inspection my lord." She squeaked. "I am no virgin, unfortunately. But I can assure you... My depths are as tight as any unblemished female's."
Aaric scoffed at her remark. There was no doubt that the slinky old Gann Sakoal had already consummated their marriage as quickly as he could while he still had the strength to get it up.
Though no longer a virgin, it meant she was fair game and there was no need to hold back.
Grabbing his already erect and spasming tool, he pressed the tip of the angry red, precum-stained head against the opening of her wet vagina then placed both hands on Kelara's shoulders.
"What are you waiting fo- OHH KRIIIIIIIFF"
The dumb blond screamed and uncontrollably creamed herself just as the entire length and girth of her new master's cock plunged into her vagina and punched through to her cervix with the glans ending up in her uterus; all in a single stroke.
Aaric clamped his eyes shut and almost saw stars as he let out a guttural moan. It was such a long time since his tool had felt the welcoming warmth of a woman's reproductive system. The involuntary spasms of Kelara's vaginal muscles only enhanced his pleasure further.
The striptease with Quinn and the subsequent dinner afterwards with no action at the end had been only increasing his libido to uncontrollable levels. He had to release it into something, anything to take the edge off. And now Kelara was his current target.
Not caring about the state of his cum receptacle, the Sith. Bent down and lifted Kelara up whilst she was still impaled and decided to serve himself if she didn't have the strength or consciousness to do it.
Hugging her tight, squashing her well-endowed chest against his he began to pump his hips upwards while pulling her downwards to meet it; racking up a sustainable rhythm and making sure each stroke was made up of the entire extricated length minus the glans before repeatedly slamming it back in.
Kelara's mind was in a fuzz as her tongue lolled and saliva drooled out of her mouth; Her eyes travelled upwards into the back of her skull. Only having enough sense to wrap her arms and legs around his body. No amount of spice could ever bring her this much pleasure. Right now there was nothing but herself and her new master's dick in her universe.
They continued in that position for another fifteen minutes before Aaric finally felt the familiar tightening sensation building up in his balls.
He rapidly increased his pace for a few more minutes before he roared triumphantly; slamming Kelara's hips down while bucking his hips upwards as hard as he could, releasing torrents of cum directly into his new conquest's cervix and filling it to the brim within seconds.
Excess air followed by ejaculate spewed forth from the edges between her baby factory and Aaric's tool as it could not take anymore volume. Still, Aaric pressed their hips tightly together as if trying and failing to form a seal so more of his sperm could stay inside her. He succeeded somewhat as he could visibly see her lower stomach start to bulge out as his cumming continued.
Finally feeling his ejaculation starting to taper off, the Sith released her hold on his newly christened property and she slid off his still rock-hard member and plopped onto the bed. Still in a state of semi-consciousness, mumbling nonsense and spasming erratically which caused some of his baby batter to spurt out from her hole.
Seeing her in such a state only reinvigorated his libido. He was a conqueror and she the conquered. One round was not going to be enough.
"C'mere slut" Aaric growled, not caring if she was self-aware enough to register his words. "The night is still long. Every hole is mine to use and I'm going to make good on that!"
He grabbed Kelara's arm and flipped her onto her stomach, the weight of her own body pressing her slightly enlarged abdomen against the bed and causing more ejaculate to eject itself from her vagina. He eyed the puckered star shaped hole of her anus and began smearing his cum all over her sphincter.
Not even bothering to start off small, Aaric placed his hands on her ass cheeks and pulled it apart as much as he possibly could and aimed his dick right at the entrance.
Slowly but surely, without pause or any semblance of restraint, pushed his glans against the star shaped hole. For a few moments it seemed to resist his advances, but Aaric was not to be denied and he placed more pressure into his hips.
With what Aaric swore he could hear a 'POP', Kelara's pleasure filled mind was brought back to reality for a momentary snap in time; enough to register that something long and large had invaded her rear end. The pain was lost in an explosion of pleasure as she came once again from her ass of all places.
For you see, Aaric's dick was just too big to fail. A normal sized one would not have penetrated deep enough to reach a woman's G-spot. But the Sith's length and girth was such that it would have hit her G-spot anyway whether he wanted to or not.
This time, Aaric indeed saw stars as the sheer relative tightness of her virgin anal cavity was too much for even him to bear and his balls churned and tightened once again before releasing another wave of baby batter into her anal cavity.
The force and sensation of his ejaculation directly into her colon caused Kelara to cum again whilst in the midst of her first one. The overlaps was almost enough to shatter her mind right there and then... Almost.
Once again, it took a good few minutes of continuous ejaculation before his hose started to taper off and he could regain enough control to pull his dick out. His new property's stomach had increased in size now.
There was still one more orifice left, but he decided to hold off on it for now. He didn't want to accidentally dislocate her jaw and literally drown her in cum while she was clearly semiconscious.
Unfortunately for Kelara, Aaric still had a hell of a lot more loads to go before he was satisfied. After this, he wasn't going to get literal pussy until he decided either Yadira, Vette, Quinn or even Darth Lachris was well and ready. That would have to wait until after the factory was well and truly destroyed.
Aaric grinned maniacally as he hovered over Kelara's frame; his tool throbbing once again. He took a mental note to find another name she could take for the imperial registers.
For by the end of the night, there was no more Kelara. No more Mrs Sakoal. Only a sentient subservient fuckhole.
The next morning, Aaric woke up in a tangled mess of blankets and sheets, with Kelara still fast asleep and covered in semi-dry and crusty cum all over her. For some reason a name popped up in his mind as he got ready for the day: Kara Balis.
Yes. That would be a fitting name for the former Mrs. Sakoal. It would still be easy enough to remember since it was similar to her old name. He would use the last name of the Balis twins and use it to come up with a cover story for her recent appearance at his residence.
Leaving the instructions with 2V-R8 to brief her once she woke up, the Sith apprentice made sure to arrange private transport for her off world and access to Dromund Kaas and his residence. A quick holomessage to the twins to assist in this would do the trick.
Next, he had to check on Gann Sakoal on the progress of the mind-wiping agent he had sent him. A short speeder ride got him to the Troida factory where the imperial presence had increased immensely as the good scientist had managed to assist the Consolidation Corps in restarting the factory and tuning the machines to create battle droids for the war effort.
The dimly lit laboratory buzzed with a subtle energy as Gann Sakoal, stood before a holo-display, his hands clasped behind his back. Across from him, Sith Apprentice Aaric, draped in the sinister shadows of his dark cloak, watched with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. The captured substance that lay at the heart of their conversation was nothing short of a revelation – a substance capable of inducing permanent memory wipes.
"Milord," Gann began, his voice steady, "I am pleased to report that my research into the captured substance has yielded substantial results. What was once an enigma is now within our grasp, ready to be harnessed for our own purposes."
Aaric's eyes glittered with a cold excitement. "Speak, Gann. Share the details of your breakthrough."
Gann cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the holo-display which projected intricate molecular structures and data analyses. "The captured substance, when analyzed, revealed a complex molecular configuration that targets specific neural pathways associated with memory retention. Through meticulous reverse engineering, I have devised a method to synthesize and refine the substance, enabling us to mass produce it in larger quantities while minimizing the undesirable side effects."
Aaric leaned in, his interest intensifying. "And these side effects, Sakoal?"
Gann nodded. "The initial trials had shown that the substance induced not just memory wipes, but also mental instability and a loss of cognitive function in some subjects. However, by fine-tuning the molecular ratios and introducing stabilizing agents, I have managed to mitigate these effects significantly."
Aaric's lips curled into a half-smile. "Excellent. The Empire can ill afford any weaknesses in its pursuits. And what of the variants you mentioned?"
Gann gestured to a series of vials on the table nearby. "Indeed, my Lord. In the course of my research, I discovered that by introducing slight modifications to the molecular structure, we can create different variants of the substance, each tailored to induce specific types of memory wipes. For instance, one variant can selectively target traumatic memories, while another can erase only recent experiences; something I imagine the resistance scientists were trying to produce in the first place."
Aaric's interest was palpable. "Versatility is a trait I hold in high regard, Science Officer. This could prove invaluable in our dealings with dissidents and potential threats."
Gann inclined his head. "Precisely, Apprentice Aaric. The applications of this technology are limitless – from controlling information leaks to manipulating the minds of our enemies."
A contemplative silence hung in the air as Aaric paced before the holo-display. "Your work, Sakoal, marks a significant advancement in our arsenal. It could tip the balance of power in our favor."
Gann's chest swelled with pride at the acknowledgement. "I am honored to contribute to the Empire's grand design, my Lord."
Aaric turned to face Gann, his gaze intense. "You shall be duly rewarded for your accomplishments, Science Officer. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. We shall wield this knowledge with precision and care, ensuring that it serves our interests without compromising the Empire's stability."
Gann nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I understand, milord. I shall continue to refine the substance and explore its potential applications under your guidance."
"Good," Aaric said with finality. "This marks the beginning of a new chapter for the Empire. A chapter where minds are not just conquered by blades, but also by the calculated manipulation of memories."
As the two figures stood amidst the humming technology, the hushed promise of a future fraught with dark possibilities hung over them like a shroud, setting in motion a sequence of events that would shape the destiny of worlds and minds alike.
"Have you notified your superiors with what we have been working on so far?" The apprentice questioned.
Gann was visibly confused. "No, I have not had the time. Between juggling with setting up the Troida factory and researching the materials you've brought me so far during whatever spare time I have."
"Good." Aaric grinned. "Sakoal, I will seek to have you become my personal science officer reporting only to me once my business here on Balmorra is finished. I will ensure you will have less oversight, more leeway and resources in order to obtain results. I will personally increase your salary and ensure you have significant perks to the job."
The old man's eyes widened in shock. Here he was mere years before he would be allowed to retire and this upstart young Sith was offering to onboard him to provide assistance on special projects? Gann was excited about this prospect. He could continue to work regardless of his age and not be relegated to routine work.
"That would be most welcome, milord." Gann bowed. "I look forward to working with you full time."
"I have a condition." Aaric interjected. "I will have you relocate to another site for work. There will not be much incentive to travel back to Dromund Kaas. Too many eyes in the capital. I need you to accept this."
"Anything, lord Aaric." Gann replied. "I accept this condition."
"Good. Await further instructions. For now, I want to have a sample of the main substance and of each variant, a detailed note about their effects and how to use them for my personal testing."
The sound of distant blaster fire reverberated through the air as Vette slipped past the factory's outer perimeter, the heavy scent of smoke and scorched metal filling her senses. The mission's success hinged on her ability to blend in with the retreating resistance forces, and her heart pounded with anticipation.
With her cover intact, Vette watched the series of defenses that the Balmorran Arms Factory had painstakingly erected. It was a triple-layered defense which she surmised would definitely cause lots of casualties even before the imperials managed to reach the factory entrances.
The first layer was the one and only that was visibly seen by the Consolidation Corps encamped just outside the perimeter. Bunkers and turbolaser cannons formed a formidable barrier. The flanks were secured by natural rock formations that funnelled any who managed to pierce the first layer to the next line of defense.
The second layer was basically massive trenches many times the depth of a standard humanoid height. Attackers would be exposed to the troops and gun mounts atop the plateau before they even reached the entrance to the trench. They would have to weave their way out of the maze, being peppered from above by the defenders before they could exit towards the back and return effective fire. By then, only the luckiest of the lucky would still be alive by that point.
Whoever that was left, would have to face the third and final layer; an open killing field that gave no cover to any attackers and allowed them to bear the full brunt of the defenders guns that were built within the monstrous cliff before they could even reach the main entrance proper.
Vette whistled to herself. The defenses were indeed intricately designed to ensure the imperials would pay for each inch of land they had to give up. But the Twi'lek noticed a single flaw in its design: It was only effective as long as the factory's shields were up, protecting them from aerial bombardments,orbital and artillery strikes.
This was her main objective now. To sabotage the factory's main and auxiliary generators and timing it when the Consolidation Corps were ready to invade.
The resistance forces moved like ghosts, shadows fleeing from the advancing Imperial forces. Vette joined their ranks, her hood pulled low over her head to conceal her blue skin. She matched their hurried pace, her eyes darting to the rear as the first blaster bolts lit up the night.
The march led to the factory's entrance, and Vette followed the other stragglers into the complex. The sight that greeted her was one of controlled chaos. Resistance members streamed in, their faces etched with exhaustion and determination. The factory's personnel were scrambling to manage the influx, their voices raised in a cacophony of instructions and confusion.
Vette's heart raced as she slipped into the flow of activity. She noted the holding area set up for the wearied resistance fighters, a space for them to recuperate and rearm. She blended in, exhaustion feigned, and found a spot against the wall, a vantage point that allowed her to observe the chaos.
The factory's interior hummed with activity, the clang of metal against metal and the whir of machinery creating a symphony of disarray. As the resistance members settled into the holding area, their voices buzzed with a mixture of camaraderie and apprehension. Vette's gaze flitted to the makeshift command center where a handful of leaders attempted to restore order.
The factory's defenses, triple-layered and bristling with weaponry, were imposing but vulnerable. The chaos that had engulfed the facility provided a unique opportunity for Vette to sabotage those defenses. The management of the situation was in shambles, and the overwhelmed personnel were stretched thin. It was the perfect time to exploit the turmoil and wreak havoc.
With each passing minute, Vette's mind raced, calculating her approach. She observed the confusion, noting the points of weakness and the lack of cohesive communication. She recognized the potential for chaos within chaos, an intricate dance of distraction that she could initiate.
The decision solidified in her mind. Vette edged away from the wall, her steps light as she maneuvered through the sea of resistance fighters. She knew what needed to be done, and she was prepared to exploit the turmoil to its fullest extent.
As her fingers brushed against her concealed tools, determination etched across her features. The chaos was her ally, and within its folds, she would weave a tapestry of sabotage that would weaken the factory's defenses and pave the way for the ultimate victory of the Balmorran resistance.
With calculated steps and a heart fueled by the urgency of the mission, Vette set her plan in motion. The chaos of the factory's desperate struggle masked her true intentions, and as the minutes ticked away, the fate of the mission hung in the balance of her skill and daring.
In the heart of the factory's tumult, Vette's actions would resonate, setting into motion a series of events that would test her resourcefulness and resolve. As the resistance fought for survival on the brink of Imperial onslaught, Vette's silent battle within the chaos would determine the course of the impending conflict.
GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-HRRRRRRRRRK!
Yadira's gullet tightened around Aaric's member as he thrusted his lips for the last time and grunted gutturally; spewing out another torrent of his midichlorian-infused spunk directly into the stomach of his pink Twi'lek slave. He stayed in that position for a few more minutes, a grin forming as his padawan prisoner's stomach slowly bulged from his voluminous cum; her hips bucking uncontrollably as the Sith's fingers deftly ministrated her nether regions to the point of no return.
He knew that Yadira would be able to survive. Both Jedi and Sith alike had to learn how to survive for brief moments in areas of vacuum or toxic gases; feeding on the Force to extend their lung capacity was a critical life-saving skill after all.
Once the flow had tapered down, the Sith extricated his dick and slapped the jedi's cheeks; splattering the mix of cum and saliva all over her face. Surprising the Sith, Yadira was still barely conscious and could only eye her captor with as much malice as she could muster.
Which failed spectacularly when a burp sounded from her open, ring-gagged mouth.
"Your performance is improving, Youngling." Aaric stated with as much sarcasm as he could. "I believe that warrants a little reward."
The Jedi's eyes narrowed at her captor as cum and saliva continued to trickle down her face and onto her dangling lekku.
"Your last name sounded familiar… 'Ban'. It made me wonder where I heard it from. And then it clicked in my mind! So I went back to read up on the history of Darth Revan and the Great Hyperspace war."
Aaric smirked as the look of confusion dashed across his prisoner's eyes. Aaric leaned closer, his voice a sinister whisper. "I did my research, Yadira. I've uncovered a fascinating piece of history." He paused for dramatic effect, relishing in her growing anxiety. "It seems that you're not just any Twi'lek. You're the descendant of Yuthura Ban."
Yadira's eyes widened, her lekku twitching even more violently. Yuthura Ban was a name whispered in hushed tones among the Jedi. She had been a promising Jedi Knight who had fallen to the dark side, becoming a Sith under the tutelage of Darth Malak and Darth Revan.
"You lie!" Yadira tried to hiss. But the only sound emitting from her ring-gagged mouth was a tremored "Hooohaaaeeei!" that betrayed her fear.
Aaric chuckled, circling the table like a predatory animal. "Ah, but I have proof. You see, the Sith academy kept meticulous records even after the dissolution of Revan's and Malak's empire. I've found ancient holocrons that mention your bloodline. Yuthura Ban's legacy lives on through you."
He activated a holoprojector, casting a holographic image of a Sith holocron into the air. The ornate, pyramid-shaped artifact spun slowly, its red and black design a stark contrast to the blue hues of the cargo bay.
The apprentice relished in his psychological assault. With the Ysalamir's presence in the cargo bay, the Padawan could not use the force to sense if he was telling the truth or not. In truth, whatever he spouted from his mouth was pure conjecture from the tidbits of information regarding the Sith-turned-Jedi Yuthura Ban. Simply sharing the last name by itself wasn't anything much to go by.
So he had to use theatricality and deception.
"This holocron contains the secrets of Yuthura Ban, passed down through generations," Aaric continued. "And now, that legacy has returned to the Sith. Through you."
Yadira's mind raced as she tried to process this revelation. Could it be true? Was she unknowingly connected to one of the most infamous Sith in history? She remembered her Jedi teachings, the principles of the light side, and the code she had sworn to uphold. But if what Aaric said had any grain of truth, her world was unraveling.
Aaric could see the turmoil in Yadira's eyes and reveled in her vulnerability. "You see, Yadira, the Force has a way of balancing itself. You might have been trained as a Jedi, but your bloodline carries the legacy of the Sith. It's time you embrace your true destiny."
The Twi'lek Padawan clenched her fists, her resolve strengthening.
The apprentice chuckled. "I can tell what you're thinking, even though I can't use the force too. You're saying, 'I will never embrace the darkness, Aaric. I am a Jedi, and I will always fight for the light!'"
Aaric's smile faded, and he extinguished the holographic holocron. "Well, we shall see, Yadira. The truth has a way of revealing itself in the darkest of times." With that ominous proclamation, he turned and left the cargo bay, leaving Yadira alone with her thoughts, her connection to the past, and her unwavering commitment to the Jedi Order. The battle between light and dark raged within her, and she knew that her choices would shape the destiny of the galaxy.
The dimly lit corridors of the Balmorran Arms Factory echoed with the sounds of machinery and distant chatter. Vette, the agile Twi'lek operative, moved silently through the shadows, her heart racing with the adrenaline of her mission. Her vibrant blue skin blended seamlessly into the dark surroundings, allowing her to remain hidden as she approached the heart of the Balmorran Resistance's headquarters.
Three days earlier, Vette had infiltrated the factory, serving her Master, the Sith Apprentice Aaric, in the name of the Empire. Her objective was to disable the factory's main generators, backup generators, and particle shield generators, crippling the Resistance's ability to wage war against the Imperial forces. To make matters more complicated, she had to accomplish this while the factory's public address system broadcasted messages of hope, unity, and determination from Grand Marshal Cheketta.
Seeing many of her fellow Twi'leks being part of the resistance forces made her gut wrench. She felt guilt knowing that her actions would cause the downfall to many of her own race. However, she also felt equal amounts of disgust at how many of them believed in the Republic's lies that they would be treated as equals… that her fellow females especially would be saved from imperial slavery.
All lies, in her opinion. At least the empire didn't discriminate when it came to who became slaves. In a way she felt that form of slavery was much better than the Republic's.
She found a secluded place to rest and gather herself as she reviewed her work so far. All that was left was to wait for the agreed date and time to execute the plan.
On the first day, she approached the main generator room. Vette knew that timing would be crucial. She had to ensure that her actions remained undetected amidst the resonating voice of the Resistance leader.
Vette reached the main generator room just as the first announcement echoed through the factory. She stood in the shadows, her keen ears picking up the words as she initiated her mission.
"This is Grand Marshal Cheketta to all personnel… Last night was a helluva fight. Outnumbered 10 to 1, and we still beat back the imps. Victory's coming boys. Keep this up, then we can all go home."
The generator room was massive, filled with towering machines and humming power conduits. Vette's knowledge of Imperial tech allowed her to locate the main generator quickly. With her slicing equipment, she began her work, bypassing security protocols and disabling the generator's power flow.
As she worked meticulously, Grand Marshal Cheketta's voice continued to motivate the Resistance forces. Vette's heart ached with the irony of the situation, knowing that she was sabotaging their cause while they drew inspiration from their leader's words.
Hours passed, and Vette completed her task. The main generator fell silent, and the lights flickered for a moment, a minor inconvenience for the factory workers. But Vette knew that her true challenge lay ahead—disabling the backup generators without arousing suspicion.
On the second day of her mission, Vette navigated through the factory's labyrinthine corridors, approaching the backup generator room. She had to be more cautious this time, for any mistake could lead to discovery.
"Grand Marshal Cheketta. I've been hearing grumblings… People saying that the Republic abandoned Balmorra. Now... I may not be Republic Army anymore but I'm still a patriot. So don't say it to my face. The treaty may not have left us much choice, but the people of the Republic are still behind you."
As Grand Marshal Cheketta spoke of loyalty and patriotism over the PA system, Vette began her infiltration. She bypassed security measures with ease, all the while thinking about the sacrifices the Resistance was making for their planet. Her heart ached for the Balmorran people, torn between their allegiance to the Republic and their fight for freedom.
Vette successfully disabled the backup generators, ensuring that the factory's operations would soon come to a grinding halt. However, her work was far from over. She had one more task to complete—the particle shield generators.
The final day dawned, and Vette made her way towards the heavily guarded particle shield generator room. Her heart raced as she contemplated the magnitude of her mission.
"Grand Marshal Cheketta here. I want to talk about sacrifice… My troops and I gave up our homes in the Republic. But the rest of you, you all weren't given a choice. Your planet was taken from you. You're giving up everything to give it back. That's the real deal."
With the Resistance leader's voice echoing through the factory, Vette confronted the particle shield generator. The security was tighter here, and she had to exercise extreme caution. After several tense moments of slicing and disabling, she finally succeeded. The particle shield that had protected the factory was now vulnerable.
Exiting the generator room, Vette knew her mission was complete. She had successfully disabled the main generators, backup generators, and particle shield generators, effectively crippling the Balmorran Resistance's headquarters. Her loyalty to her Master and the Empire had been unwavering, despite the conflicting emotions that had plagued her throughout the mission.
As she retreated into the shadows, Vette couldn't help but reflect on the sacrifices made by the Resistance forces and the true cost of war. She disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a factory ready to erupt in chaos at a moment's notice and a message of defiance in the face of adversity.
Aaric stood tall amidst the trenches, the Imperial Consolidation Corps soldiers gathered around him, their spirits shrouded in anticipation of the impending battle. The Balmorran Arms Factory loomed ahead, defended by the steadfast lines of the Balmorran Resistance.
It had been almost a week since he had dispatched Vette on her infiltration mission and he had heard neither hide nor hair of her.
If he were honest with himself, his plan was solely based on pure confidence in Vette's loyalty to him and his cause; and her ability to get the task done without compromising herself. Lieutenant Quinn was right to consider his plan foolhardy from a logical point of view.
But she did not know Vette like he did. Vette was a casualty of the Republic's own hubris and mismanagement of their internal affairs. The unwieldy representative democracy that ensured that the rich and influential got what they wanted at the expense of the poor. That capitalism that doomed the Twi'lek race to a life of near-guaranteed servitude.
The female ones almost exclusively, that is.
Vette had lived through the inadequacies of the Republic first hand. Aaric didn't need Vette to be pro-imperial, he just needed her to be anti-republic. Just her loyalty to the apprentice himself would suffice.
If she failed, he would gladly pay the price and go out in glorious combat. If she succeeded, all the more power and influence to him.
Aaric checked the time on his wrist computer before nodding to himself. It was just about time.
H's commanding presence radiated confidence as he climbed upon some crates and raised his voice, addressing the soldiers, his gaze unwavering.
"When the empire invades..." Aaric's voice boomed.
The soldiers, unified and disciplined, responded in unison: "We seal the deal!"
The Sith Apprentice's eyes flickered with intensity as he continued, his voice cutting through the tension that lingered in the air.
"Three days from now I will be off this blasted, forsaken planet. But when this day is over, imagine where you will be and I guarantee you it will be so. Hold the line, stay with me! If you find yourself alone walking through green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled… for you are one with the Force! You're already dead!"
The soldiers, entrenched in the grim reality of war, shared a moment of dark humor, laughter briefly breaking the solemnity.
"Brothers, sisters! Remember... what we do in life, what we do for the empire, no matter how small echoes for all eternity," Aaric's voice echoed with conviction. "My time spent fighting alongside you has made me realize one thing: I'd rather fight beside you than any other army of thousands. Let no republic scum ever forget how menacing you are! You are lions!"
Aaric raised his hand, pointing ahead towards the enemy lines of the Balmorran Resistance, his eyes fixed on the prize that lay beyond.
"You know what's there, waiting beyond that ridge: Power, immortality, glory! Take it! It's yours!"
The soldiers, stirred by Aaric's impassioned speech, erupted into a fierce cheer, their spirits emboldened, their adrenaline pumping. Each one felt the weight of their purpose, the fire of determination burning within them. They readied their weapons, eager for the impending clash.
The Sith Apprentice shared a moment of silent determination with his comrades, acknowledging their collective resolve. With a final nod, Aaric turned, gazing at the distant horizon where victory and destiny awaited.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow upon the battlefield, the Imperial Consolidation Corps soldiers stood ready, their voices raised in unison, a resounding chant that echoed across the trenches.
"For the Empire! For victory!"
With hearts unified and spirits unyielding, they awaited the command, their minds set on the glory promised by Aaric's words, ready to charge into the fray, to claim what was rightfully theirs in the name of the Empire.
From the opposite side of the battlefield, an enormous wave of thunderclouds barrelled towards the combatants; bringing flashes of lightning and pouring rain in the distance.
Grand Marshal Cheketta, a seasoned leader of the Balmorran Resistance, stood at the vantage point overlooking the battlefield, with Commander Rylon, the astute intelligence chief, by his side. The last rays of sunlight struggled against the storm clouds that were rolling in, casting an ominous shadow over the environment.
As they peered into the distance, the faint echoes of cheering Imperial forces drifted over the ridge, signaling an unsettling turn of events. Cheketta's expression darkened, a foreboding sense settling in the pit of his stomach.
"Prepare the sentries," Cheketta ordered, his voice steady but with an undertone of concern. "We must be ready for whatever the Imperials are planning. There's an ominous air about their celebrations."
"Yes sir!" A Lieutenant snapped to salute before giving the orders discreetly through the comms channels.
Rylon, his mind sharp and calculating, mulled over the possibilities. "It's not typical for them to be cheering before an assault. It could be a diversion or a psychological tactic. Something feels off."
Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed across the Balmorran Arms Factory, causing the lights to flicker and then abruptly cut out. Reports flooded in, confirming the destruction of the main generators. The factory plunged into darkness, shrouded in an eerie silence.
The Grand Marshal turned to look at Rylon; his strategic mind running through all possibilities in a second: They had been compromised.
Just a few seconds later, the auxiliary generators kicked in, casting a dim glow throughout the facility, but just as hope began to flicker back to life, another deafening explosion resonated. The backup generators had been obliterated, sending the factory into complete darkness once more.
Cheketta's jaw clenched, his apprehensions swiftly turning into a grim realization. "We have been compromised. Check on the shie-"
Before any countermeasures could be taken, a third explosive boom shook the very foundation of the factory. The particle shield generators, vital for the defense of the Resistance, were destroyed.
Both the commanders and the resistance forces manning the forward defenses gazed above in abject horror as the shimmering blue energy field that was their particle shields dissipated and eventually disappeared into thin air, leaving the factory vulnerable and exposed for the first time since the beginning of the conflict.
The Grand Marshal and Commander exchanged a grave look, realizing the severity of the situation. The Imperials had tactically dismantled the Resistance's defenses from the inside, leaving them vulnerable to an imminent assault.
They had no time to wonder who could have done it. The resistance itself was now prone to complete destruction!
Cheketta's voice cut through the chaos within the communications channels. "Prepare the troops! Get every available fighter ready. We will defend this factory with every ounce of our strength! FOR THE REPUBLIC!"
The storm clouds continued to blanket the skies, mirroring the looming threat that encroached upon the factory. The Balmorran Resistance stood on the precipice of a harrowing battle, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that the darkness now enveloping them was not just the absence of light but the looming shadow of the Imperial onslaught.
The next thing they saw was bright lights hurtling down from above.
The next thing they heard was deafening screams and explosions.
The next thing they felt was pain, despair… and death.
For those who managed to survive, they would emerge from cover to see a wave of black bodies swarming over them. Torrential rain, flashes of lightning and roaring thunder rolling across the landscape accompanied by a warrior wielding a bright crimson blade.
A/N: Cue the scene and sountrack "Marathon" from the movie "300: Rise of an Empire"
Please read and review as always! I am open to suggestions and your feedback is greatly appreciated.
I know some readers have a hard time imagining a female Malavai Quinn. Here's a suggestion... go to the hotpot AI art generator website, select a sci-fi art style and input the following prompts: Imperial officer, pale skin, black hair, female, cheek mole
You'll get more or less my idealized version of a genderbent Quinn. Go wild!