"Spyin' those city-folk, mistress?" O'bog's chortling tone cut through the heavy air of Onderon's jungle, his diminutive form fluttering around Zorya. "Scared as a pup in a den o' varactyls, they are!"
Without uttering a sound, Zorya surveyed the distant city of Iziz, its imposing walls a testament to the citizens' fear of the unknown. The mission was clear in her mind, as sharp as the edge of a vibroblade: incite chaos amongst the noble houses of Onderon, pitch them against each other, then leverage the ensuing civil war to cement Sith dominion over the planet.
Her senses stretched outwards, absorbing the clammy jungle heat, the biting musk of predator and prey. She tasted the rampant fear amidst defiance, a perfect brew for her objective. The whispers of the jungle creatures formed a symphony around them, completing the tableau of their silent subterfuge.
Zorya's gaze shifted to Kyros Vedas, a man carved from perseverance and unwavering loyalty to her. She had provided her own suad of Kage Warriors for this operation. With a curt nod towards him, O'bog squawked, "Let the Kage Warriors dance their shadow waltz, Kyros."
Unseen beneath the canopy, her Warriors scattered, phantoms in the night, agents of anarchy ready to sow their seeds. Each silent stride held the promise of upheaval, a testament to the chaos to come.
"Aye, a proper riot we'll be havin', eh, mistress?" O'bog fluttered back to his perch, his mirth masking the seriousness of their plot.
Zorya remained a silent sentinel, her inscrutable gaze focused on Iziz. Each heartbeat echoed with the rhythm of her purpose – to ignite the fires of conflict, to set the stage for the Sith's ascendancy. The storm was upon Onderon, and at its eye, stood she.