The city of Iziz was a fortress of ancient stone and modern tyranny. Its massive walls, designed to keep out the nightmare beasts of the Onderonian moon Dxun, were currently being used to keep its own citizens in a state of Separatist-enforced terror. As the first week of the eighth month of 20 BBY dawned, the humidity of the jungle seemed to thicken with the electric tension of an impending storm—one that didn't originate from the atmosphere, but from the orbit of the planet.
Revan Shan stood on a jagged ridge overlooking the primary western gate. He was a vision of matte-black Beskar and shadows, his heavy cloak rippling in the humid breeze. His hood was pulled forward, masking the 23-year-old face of a man who had lived through enough wars to know that "surgical precision" was often just a polite term for "messy but fast."
"Admiral Kaine, status on the fleet?" Revan murmured, his voice echoing with that familiar, slightly manic lilt through his gauntlet's comm-link.
"The 596th is maintaining the blockade, General," Kaine's voice crackled. "The Uprising and the Phoenix are suppressing the Munificents. Vice Admiral Spock reports that the Separatist reinforcements from the Mygeeto sector have been successfully delayed by our 'Jump-Snap' interdiction teams."
"Splendid," Revan said, popping a tart lemon candy into his mouth. "Cortana, darling, how is the Black Pearl? I hope she's feeling particularly feisty today."
"The Black Pearl is currently at a hover-height of five hundred meters, Master," Cortana's voice chirped. "I have calibrated the twin turbolasers for high-precision cover fire. I've also pre-calculated three dozen 'accidental' structural collapses of droid barracks. It's going to be a very bad day for anyone made of tin."
"Try to be nice, do good, but never fail to be kind," Revan reminded himself with a sassy grin. "And it's very kind to put these droids out of their misery. Commander Check, Commander Ruff—launch the sweep."
The Breach: A Masterclass in Kinetic Chaos
The breach didn't start with a loud explosion. It started with a whisper.
Steela and Saw Gerrera, leading a specialized insurgency cell, had spent the last forty-eight hours sabotaging the northern power plants. As the clock hit the mark, the western gate's energy shield flickered and died.
"Now!" Revan shouted.
He didn't run; he blurred. Utilizing Force Enhance, Revan hit the city walls like a kinetic projectile. As the first wave of B1 and B2 battle droids opened fire, Revan's Balanced Purple lightsaber ignited, a violet arc that caught the morning light. He didn't just deflect the bolts; he sent them back with a precision that turned the droids' own weaponry into their executioners.
A Separatist AAT tank leveled its main cannon at a squad of "Roughneck" clones. Revan didn't flinch. He reached out with Force Precognition, sensing the shell's flight path before the trigger was even pulled.
Force Push.
The air groaned as Revan redirected the massive shell mid-flight, curving it upward to strike a Vulture droid that was attempting a strafing run. The resulting explosion showered the street in molten scrap.
"Door to door, boys! House to house!" Commander Check barked, leading a sweep of clones into the residential districts. "Check your corners! Use the EMPs!"
The 596th didn't fight like the standard GAR. They moved with a fluidity born of their dechipped status—free-thinking, creative, and utterly loyal to the Maverick who had bought their freedom. They used the Iziz architecture to their advantage, rappelling from balconies and using "Maverick Traps"—localized gravity snares—to pin down Droidekas before they could deploy their shields.
Revan was at the center of the storm. When a cluster of thermal detonators was tossed from a rooftop, he used Force Repulse, the shockwave sending the explosives back to the balcony they came from.
"Honestly," Revan quipped, casually catching a stray blaster bolt with Tutimimus and tossing the energy into a droid's logic core, "you'd think after a year of war, they'd learn that throwing things at a Jedi is just providing us with free ammunition."
Behind the Lines: The Saboteurs
While Revan led the main frontal assault, Steela and Saw Gerrera were ghosts in the machinery of Iziz.
"Target the anti-capital cannons!" Steela commanded, her bow-rifle humming. She was a scalpel, picking off officers and engineers with terrifying accuracy.
Saw, meanwhile, was the sledgehammer. "Blow the turrets! I want the sky clear for the Pearl!"
They moved through the subterranean maintenance tunnels, using the data Revan had provided via his Kyber-Quantum informatics to bypass the Separatist security grids. One by one, the Iziz defense systems fell silent. Defense shields collapsed, anti-ship batteries were shorted out by Saw's demolition charges, and the city's power plants were placed under Republic control.
Cortana, piloting the Black Pearl from above, provided a constant stream of cover fire. The freighter's upgraded twin turbolasers were so precise they could pick off a single B2 droid on a balcony without scorching the paint on the door behind it.
"Master, the Separatist King Rash has retreated to the inner palace," Cortana reported. "Saw and Steela have reached the throne room's auxiliary entrance."
"On my way," Revan said. He looked at the clones around him, their Beskar-alloy armor smeared with soot but their spirits high. "Check, finish the sweep. Ensure the civilians are safe. I have a king to audit."
The Fall of the Puppet King
The palace of Iziz was a monument to old-world opulence, now cluttered with droid tactical displays and Separatist propaganda. Revan entered the throne room just as Saw Gerrera was about to level his blaster at King Rash, the sniveling puppet appointed by Count Dooku.
"Saw, wait," Revan said, his voice dropping the sass for a moment of genuine authority.
"He sold out our world!" Saw shouted, his finger trembling on the trigger. "He deserves to die!"
Revan walked forward, his black robes billowing. He didn't look at the King; he looked at the throne. "Death is a very short lesson, Saw. But living as a failure? That's an education that lasts a lifetime. And besides, we need him to testify in the Senate about Dooku's 'secret donations' to the Onderonian treasury."
He turned to King Rash, who was cowering behind his elaborate robes. "Your Majesty, I'm afraid your lease on this palace has been terminated. You have ten minutes to pack a bag. Or don't. I hear Republic detention centers have a very... minimalist aesthetic."
With the King in custody and the droid army neutralized by the loss of their command hub, Iziz was officially liberated. The city erupted in a mixture of joy and relief, the people of Onderon finally seeing the sun without the shadow of a Lucrehulk.
The Secret Investigation: The Maw of the Sith
While the city celebrated and the 596th began the long process of stabilization, Revan didn't join the festivities. He had sensed something the moment they breached the palace—a cold, rhythmic pulse that sat beneath the stone like a dormant tumor.
He left HK-47 and R2-D6 to oversee the "Roughneck" inventory of salvaged Separatist tech and descended into the palace's forgotten foundations.
"Cortana, mask my signature. I don't want the Council sensing this."
"Signature masked, Master. But the Force density in your current location is spiking."
Revan reached a heavy stone door, ancient and unadorned. He didn't use a key. He used his Sonic Screwdriver, the cyan light illuminating the dust of millennia. Whirrr-click.
The door slid open to reveal a hidden chamber. This wasn't Onderonian architecture; it was pure Sith. In the center of the room sat a ritual site—a stone basin filled with dark, viscous liquid that shimmered with an oily light. Surrounding it were inscriptions in High Galactic and Ur-Kittât.
Revan walked to the basin, his hands hovering over the liquid. He used Force Psychometry, touching the stone.
The visions hit him like a physical blow. He saw a figure—long before the war, before even the High Republic—standing here. It was a Sith Lord, reaching out through the Force, not to the galaxy, but to the Deep Core. They were using this site as a focal point to communicate with something... or someone... hidden in the turbulent center of the galaxy.
"A beacon," Revan whispered, his breath hitching. "They weren't just practicing alchemy. They were marking a trail."
He pulled a data-cylinder from his gauntlet and began recording the inscriptions. "Santari Khri's notes mentioned gravitational anchors, but this... this ritual site is a metaphysical anchor. It's tied to the 'Heart of the Force' crystals I found."
Revan realized that the Sith—specifically the lineage leading to Palpatine—had been mapping the Deep Core for centuries, looking for the same ancient power he had stumbled upon.
"The war is just the curtain," Revan mused, his eyes narrowing. "This is the real play. Cortana, upload this to the Infinite Holocron. And delete the local copies. We are the only ones who can have this map."
Status: Month 8, 20 BBY
As the week ended, Revan emerged from the palace depths, his hood back up, looking every bit the mysterious Maverick. Onderon was safe, the King was a prisoner, and Revan had a new piece of the galactic puzzle.
He walked to the Black Pearl, where HK-47 was currently arguing with a captured tactical droid about the efficiency of lung-based breathing.
"Master, I have secured the local Separatist treasury," HK-47 reported. "It contained a significant amount of credits and some surprisingly high-quality Phrik alloy."
"Good work, HK," Revan said, patting the droid's shoulder. "Add it to the Maverick Trust. We're going to need it. The war is moving into its endgame, and I have a feeling the next stop is going to be even more crowded."
"Master," Cortana interrupted. "A priority message from Master Yoda. It seems there's been an incident at the Jedi Temple involving a bombing. He's asking for your 'unique perspective'."
Revan sighed, popping a final lemon candy. "Ah, the Temple bombing. The beginning of the end for the Order's PR. Well, I suppose I've spent enough time in the jungle. Tell the 596th to prep for Coruscant. It's time to go back to the circus."
| Current Statistics: Month 8, 20 BBY | Value |
|---|---|
| Maverick Trust Credits | 8.1 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 260 Million |
| Loot Secured | Sith Ritual Inscriptions, Separatist Treasury |
| Onderon Status | Liberated / Republic Provisional Gov |
| Revan's Mood | Highly Curious and Slightly Concerned |