The shores of Kashyyk were truly a beautiful place. A beautiful sun was shining in the sky, casting a brilliant light through the overhang over trees from the massive forest. A warm breeze swept through the sands, and the fresh aroma of saltwater drifted through the camp.

Unfortunately, Zedd Daphyr could not feel the warm breeze on his face, nor could he smell the salt in the air, his mask made sure of that. He paced through the camp, waiting on the troops, they had to leave in an hour, and he had been up eight hours before them. If he actually removed his mask, which he only does when he sleeps, you would see his baggy red eyes and droopy face. The mission was taking its toll on him.

"Five months now. Five months! Not a single Goddamn Jedi!" He kicked a can of food from the past night, sending it soaring over the beach. The clenched both of his fists up into a ball, his rage building, before he slammed them down into the air, and the whole camp shook. He was getting stronger, and the soldiers were getting more worried.

"Not again. The old fool can't control his power..." Zed heard the soldier behind him. He turned around immediately, rising his clenched fist into the air, the soldier rising with it. With a move of his wrist he snapped the soldiers neck, who fell, and lay limp on the ground. He stormed out of sight, his long cloak billowing behind him. When he was gone, many gathered around the dead trooper. One took out a small knife, the size of his palm, and made a small cut in the dead soldiers hand. He then proceeded to smear the blood on the fallen one's hand, and slapped the hand on his helmet. The effect was like a stamp, the dead one's hand print was on his own helmet, which was taken off him, and placed in a pile of more helmets like this, for other fallen soldiers.

"The count is up to twelve now... Nine of them are from him," The soldier nodded in the direction of Daphyr's tent, "If we don't get this info, it's gonna be a real long night for all of us." The others nodded and grunted in agreement, before going back to getting ready.

Zedd Daphyr's tent was filled with a ringing. He looked at his wrist and tapped a button, when a hologram paper up of a hooded figure. His face was not visible, but instead a mask.

"There is trouble on the way. I cannot risk another failure from your team, so I will be steping in myself to settle matters. With my skill on your team, there will be no more failing. Though it is only for today, then I will be heading back for more... Important matters. After that, you will not fail me again."

"I ensure you, we will not fail you, Master Ren..."

Scar, one of the few stormtroopers who ignored the body of his unfortunate comrade, waited for those whose resolve was less strong to clear away as he cleaned the barrel of his FWMB-10, and checked the tripod mount.

When Scar finished, he dragged the corpse out of the camp. Can't let Zedd trip over that. Doubt it would improve his mood. Scar also quickly searches the unfortunate for his thermal detonators.

Scar then returns to camp.

Tibbs watched Scar as he searched the latest addition to Zed's kill count and grimaced. Zed's thoughtless kills had never sat right with him, not from the start. Tibbs knew the Sith were not to be trifled with, but the thought of a battle scarred stormtrooper would meet his end; after countless battles by the hand of a Sith hissy fit. He stopped himself, cleared his head and reminded himself that this was the First Order, and there was no place in the First Order to question the acts of a superior. Let alone a Sith.

He placed his rifle against a few supply crates and walked toward the shoreline looking out at the lake, taking the in sights, the smells & the feeling of such a beautiful planet. Although everything seemed in place, it wasn't. Tibbs knew that Zed's judgement was clouded by his inevitable failure to find a myth such as a Jedi, but the situation was not in their control. The air felt stiff. Silent. Much like the hot desert air not long ago on Tatooine. Is it just my head? I need to keep focus, or I'll end up on Zed's body count...

Pulling his binoculars from his utility belt he put them up to his helmet and scanned the hills on the opposite side of the lake. Trees. Trees. Trees. The repetition of the opposite shoreline was disheartening. Suddenly he spotted something and he shot back toward its direction. Something was glimmering at the top of the cliff edge and quickly shifted from view. He waited patiently for whatever it was he saw to return. Deep down he hoped it down. Deeper down he hope it did, if only to quell the suspicion. After a few moments he headed back to camp as the squad was likely to head out soon, but first he felt it necessary to report his findings, however small, to Zed. He walked toward him, a lump in his throat. Whether it was fear of Zed, fear of the mysterious figure on the cliff or the unknown ahead of him he kept stride toward the Sith Lord.

Perfect was amongst the ones that honored the fallen. He watched silently as the dead got stamped, and how the soldiers placed his helmet on the stack. He made a cross in the air to honor the fallen and walked to the pile of hemlets. The others were mostly gone, and the scene was quiet, apart from Scar who was looting the dead. He frowned inside the helmet and depised the man. He was a living animal, a puppet of the Sith. Thought he introduced himself as Scar, some of the troopers already began calling him Wacky. He turned away and looked at the fresh blood dripping from the helmet, as it was soaked into the dry sand of the beach. The blood was slowly drying, but until it would finish, the crimson color stood vividly amongst the black and white, or the faded reds, of the other markings. Perfect kneeled down and put his hand on top of the helmet carefully, not to smear the blood. He closed his eyes and leaned his head forwards, muttering to the dead. "Kipps I won't let you die in vain. I will not fail to kill the Jedi, and give your death a meaning, to make you stand as a hero, who ended a heroic death in the glorious vicotry that brought peace to the galaxy."

For a minute Perfect kneeled there and held the helmet. After he finished his prayers he stood up and made his way to camp. He walked down the main road that led through the middle of the encampement. It was busy with stormtropers who were all going somewhere in a rush, carrying crates, or looking over data. Of course there were those who patrolled the area, and those who stood guard in certain places. He walked past them, until he reached a big, flat sandy field that laid behind the camp. He turned right from the main road, and onto the sandy field. there were a few benches and target dummies that indicated the use of this facility. He walked to a bench near the shore and put his shield down. He sat down and pulled out the bottom of the bench. There was a small box in it, along with other sparring equipment, which he grabbed up, and pushed the container back in with his legs. The box conatined 3 small psarring drones that are used to train the the sharshooters, or the young Jedi's. At least that is what his captain told him back in the days.

He sighed heavely and activated the drones, which immediately flew away, in a second, and continued to orbit him at a close distance. Their steel plates glimmered as the sun shone on them, and they silently slipped through the air, constantly watching him. He stood up and disabled the HUD in his helmet, then he walked down into the middle of the field. Perfect activated his baton and pressed a button on his wrist, which made the drones become aggressice. He closed his eyes, and waited for the drones. They were designed to be silent, but Perfect noticed that they stop, and make a small noise before firing. But now, it was only the silence of the waves hitting thr beach. For the fracture of a second there was a small guzzling noise from his right ear, and he eaned backwards to avoid a shot. At the same time he swinged his arm backwards, rotating his whole body clockwise, and hitting the drone, who dare took a shot on him. With the dying electronic noises the air fell silent once again. This time both of the remaining drones fired at the same time. As they were charging up, Perfect kneeled down to avoid the shots, and uppercut one of the drones. Now that it was dealt with, there was only one drone left. A small gust of wind came, and made a ghastly noise as it rushed into the last drone. It only took a second for the drone to realise it, and correct his trajectory to stay quiet, which was not enouigh time for him to attack. being a good warrior not only means how to strike, but to also know when to strike. Perfect was fully aware of this fact, as he continued to listen for the familiar sound of charging shockers. But it jsut didn't come. It seemed like the droid was waiting for him to make a mistake. He frowned and took a deep breath, and then let it out. He concentrated on the drone's soubd amongst the others, slowly closing them out until he would find the innoticable one that was his target. He concentrated for a minute, until he let out a loud groan and disactivated the drone. He wasn't a fricking Sith to know where the drone was. Both of his parents could use the force to an extent that led them move small objects, and to aid them hunt, but it seems that those genes didn't pass down. he packed up his gear, and put the last drone back int he box, before heading bcak to camp in an irritated mood.

Having woken up before the crack of dawn, Eight ha already gotten dressed and was in her armor. She had her standard ration breakfast that was supplied to every stormtrooper, it wasn't luxurious by any standard, or anything even as good as what her parents used to give her, but it didn't matter to the female. Being a trooper came with having to deal with these sorts of things and it's part of what she accepted.

Sitting in the camp, she was working on maintaining her jetpack. The thing was one of high maintenance to keep to her standards; shutting down mid battle or malfunctioning was unacceptable and lethal if it happened. This particular trooper's work was interrupted by the sounds of another tantrum from the sith. She merely grunted, having learned to numb her emotions to this particular child's antics. Had it not of been suicide, the female would have probably done something about him killing some of the best of the best the first order had. Killing Jedi was one thing, this sith was another. However, she just resumed work on her jetpack, that filling up her mind instead of the murders going on a mere distance of a few yards away. The maintenance she was performing was capable of being quickly halted and ready for combat at a moment's notice.

Bit stood by the dead and did the only thing she knew how to. "Lucky Bastards at least they get a break." she joked figuring she might as well lighten the mood even if it was going to get her killed. Walking around the camp nervously she sat down on a stump of a tree she figured they had cut or burned down at some point. Burned by the charred look. She took out a holocron and read about Operation Knightfall one of her favorites it reminded her why she fought for the empire. Order and Structure she delved into the book for what seemed like the millionth time the blue screen comforting her with familiarity.

Getting up she went over the contents of her pack. She took apart her thermal Detonators and put them back together again over and over and over. She was always anxious when she had nothing to do or say. She figured it wasn't a good time to crack a joke. Standing up she dove into some of the crates of spare parts and set on making a hollow blaster proof cover for scars mounted gun. Lord knows how light metals where these days and while slightly cumbersome it could save scars life in Battle or the Gun whichever matters more at the moment.

@The Canadian

After the transmission was over, Zedd heard footsteps behind him. He sighed, and clenched his fists.

"This better be important, or like your other, 'Saint' Stormtroopers before you, you'll find your helmet in that pile. I don't have much time, so make it quick."

Zedd knew he had little time to have a conversation, as Ren was probably already on his way when he made the transmission. Ren was as unforgiving and cruel as Daphyr, but there was something about Ren that made Daphyr's stomach lurch. He knew that Ren had more control over his power, and he that he, Zedd, couldn't risk a thing happening during the transfer of information, or that mihpght result in something much, much worse than that pile of helmets.

@AbysmalDemon

As Tibbs stepped into Zedd's tent he felt his whole body get warm, and he felt weak. The very presence of the Sith made his stomach turn, but he prayed his forewarning would serve him better than worse...

"Zedd, if I may speak, I was patrolling the southern shoreline across the lake and I spotted what looked like possible Resistance scouts" he said.

He felt himself tremble but he kept his cool long enough to fool the Sith into thinking he was anything but nervous.

"If I may say so, my Lord, I think the possibility of an ambush is on our hands."

@The Canadian

Zedd sighed, he turned to face Tibbs.

"An ambush? We've scanned the surface three times, if there was anything remotely peculiar about this place, we would have known about it. I expect you to be less ignorant next time, or it may cost you your helmet. You are dismissed... And while your out there, tell the others we're leaving and to get everything finalized."

As Tibbs walked away, even though no one could see it, Zeddd scowled. What a waste of my time! It's like there asking me to make that pike of helmets bigger! Zedd paced around his tent once more, before sitting down. The day had already been rough, and for Zedd it would only get rougher. Time was dwindling down, and only three quarters of his troopers were ready. The other quarter, either still getting ready... Or dead.

Zedd was so blindsided by his need for power, that he didn't consider the possibility of an ambush. Or the possibility that something could go wrong. He planned it so that everything would work out for him, and him only. The First Order was nothing to him but a stepping stool to get to power, though, it was a stepping stool that treated him well, and did he think, that if it fell, he would fall too? No. He thought about power, and greatness, and fame, and getting this information was crucial to all of those. He couldn't fail, not again.