Junction [GA/SO] Caldera Crisis — The Alliance Strikes Back | GA/SO Junction of Barkhesh and Kiffu

[Festerruman Sachiel]

THE CHAOS PACT
Proclaim this among the nations: Prepare for war! Rouse the Warriors! Let all the fighting men draw near and attack.
x

Objective II — Mirial

Allies: Marcus Dinn , Xeykard , | Sith Order Forces
Enemies: Gress D'ran , Corazona von Ascania , Konrad Montrose | GADF Forces
Engaging: Gress D'ran | Open

Objective: Pin the Hellstompers
​

---

Ten minutes.

Twenty tanks and sixty-seven APCs were already burned out husks or badly crippled to the point where their crews had no choice to bail and join the fight with their PDWs.

Archcommanderim Sidrel gritted her teeth as the main cannon of her Mors Ferro spat once more, sending another massive howitzer shell tumbling into the side of an Alliance Cougar Medium Tank. These walkers were tougher than she could have expected. They had been dumping metric tons of high-explosive right at them non-stop, enough to level multiple fortified building blocks, but they couldn't even get past the shields of their lighter bipedal walkers, let alone the super heavies. Every second that passed she would hear the scream of one of her tank crews before they were engulfed by a burst of static.

Most of her anti-tank infantry had been slaughtered. The automatic grenade launchers and mortars had made mincemeat of them. A few got close enough to deploy their short-range anti-tank weapons only to find them fruitlessly bounce off the GADF armor. The few dozen were somehow still alive through the hail of blaster fire and shrapnel was now clambering onto enemy tanks in hopes of ripping open the hatches to hurl their det-packs into.

Another company was searing a burning hole into her rear. No option for retreat. But it wasn't like her tanks were able to given their atrocious reverse speeds.

At the very least their armored charge had managed to preserve the lives of the rest of the retreating troops. It didn't console her very much that her troops were the ones dying in their place instead.

Another ten minutes and her entire armored regiment would be wiped out. But that was their job, wasn't it? Their orders hadn't been to destroy or even drive back the Hellstompers but to keep them pinned in place. Sidrel hoped that her losses were worth it.

"Damn it, all tanks focus fire on their medium-tracked vehicles. We can't penetrate their walkers. Use your speed to get on their sides and rear," she grunted as her tank was directly struck by the Sphinx Cerberus' GATB-13 Thunderer. The impact was enough to lurch all one hundred tonnes of armored machine several meters sideways. The tank's generator flared and died. Spalling erupted from the side of the turret and decapitated her gunner, leaving mists of blood steaming in the air. But it didn't penetrate their thick armored hide.

"Feth this!" Sidrel growled, kicking her gunner's corpse from his seat and taking his place at the sight. She swung the massive howitzer around just in time to see one of her tanks get crushed under Ceberus' giant paw. When that paw lifted again her fellow heavy tank was nothing more than a smear of metal and gore on the ground. Her vehicle was no doubt next.

She was going to take down that quadrupedal beast if that was the last thing she would do. The main gun reached its maximum and she set her sights on the walker's rear left hip joint. "Be not that far from me, my Lord, for trouble is near; haste Thee to help me. Blessed be Father Khaos, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me. Let Khaos reign!"

With a final trigger pull her tank fired the last round it ever would.

---

The Marines had trained for trench combat but the Chaos Pact had been born in it.

Just over a third of their number reached the trenches, barely five hundred in total, the rest slaughtered on the way by flanking fire from the Thundercats. Steaming piles of gore and blood was all that was left of many of them. The eight-century-long civil war in their home world of Herodor had been defined by trench warfare and grinding sieges that dragged on for decades. Despite another century of recovery, the surface of their planet had been so scarred by this type of warfare that the vast majority of the population was forced to live underground. They were in their element now, their discipline and drilled tactics came kicked into high gear.

While above the trenches assault teams kept the heavy guns of the GADF marines busy, within the trenches themselves the Combat Pioneers went to work. They racked their scatterguns and activated the pilot lights of their flamethrowers. Vibro-blades were prepared. Hatchets, billhooks, and sharpened shovels were gripped by leather-gloved hands. Thermal detonators were passed around so that the frontman of each squad would be carrying a dozen.

"Go." the command was given and columns of Pioneer-Sappers flooded into the trench lines proper in a storm-assault. Several of them ran into the hallway ambushes set up by the auto rifle operators but quickly recovered, blasting away at the defenders with volleys and volleys of scatterguns only to be cut down in turn by Thunderfist under barrels. In some tight trench corridors, the exchange of fire was so great that it appeared as if a horizontal torrential downpour of steel and blaster fire was occurring. Conditions were so tight that men didn't have room to fall, their perforated corpses standing upright.

Flamethrowers spewed napalm around corners. Some Pioneer-Sappers Officers carried Chainswords and where battles became so close quarters it devolved into hand-to-hand, put them to repulsive use.

The trench war had only just began.

---

The kill team of ten Sagittarius Tank Hunters slowly trundled forward through the wrecked battlefield, passing by old building ruins and the exposed roots of upturned trees. Their silenced engines and padded tracks made sure that their approach was quieter than a child's whisper. Where the Mors Ferros were tall and haughty with their massive howitzer turrets, the Sagittarius was long-hulled, sleek, and lower than a standing man. Their one primary weapon was a supercharged MZ-8 Pulse Cannon fixed on the front designed expressly to kill heavy armor. The Sagittarius were predators who feasted on durasteel, watching and waiting for their prey for hours just to strike at their weakest moment.

Their moment had come. They nestled up in the wreckage of an old warehouse and activated their signature reduction systems. What little emissions their engines produced were strangled and cooling pipes in the armour plating worked overtime to diminish their heat signature. The camo-netting system worked to blend their hulls into the surrounding environment.

The kill team's leader Captain Phen Asmodon, the commander of the Spear of Wrath, watched the battle unfold through his tank's probescope. The strong were devouring the weak. But so preoccupied with their feast that they would make easy targets.

"As much as it pains me to say it, focus our first shots on the bipeds. They're more mobile and easier to spook. Weaker shields too. Heavy ones won't be going anywhere soon. Two of you select a single biped. Quick succession shots. One to disable the shield, and the next one follows up a second later to finish the job. Once that's done, reverse and move to the next position to repeat. Pick your targets and fire on my command," he ordered over the comms as his vehicle's enslaved 88-series mathematical droid installed into the targeting system calculated millions of variables for the gunner. The gunner fixed the tank killer's sights on the legs of a Thundercat.

With a hissing shriek of superheated air, the ten Tank Hunters lanced a bright blue beam of plasma at five Thundercat walkers.

---

Mere moments before the Tank Hunters bared their fangs, the holographic image of Ennenhim-General Thuen Neraddur appeared on Gress D'ran 's Cerberus. It brute-forced its way into the command walker's Encrypted Communication Array, seeking to send a message instead of intercepting one. The Chaos Pact commander was a faceless creature whose final vestige of humanity was hidden behind a nozzle and a leather gas mask.

"This is Ennenhim-General Neraddur. To the commander of this unit, allow me to congratulate you. It has been an unheard-of occurrence until now for the full might of one of our tank divisions to be stopped dead in its tracks in such a decisive manner. Your Alliance certainly has an arsenal of enviable walkers. I shall look forward to bringing their captured remains back to Herodor for the tech scholars to study over. Do not fret. They shall be treated with the greatest respect. I shall see to it personally," his voice was heavily filtered by his mask, "As for the men of your battalion should you choose to surrender, rest assured they will be treated with dignity and honor. Should they choose to renounce their heretical ways and convert to the Cult of Khaos we shall welcome them with open arms into our crusading armies. Indeed, I would look forward to perhaps fighting alongside you."

"But understand this. Your fight is a hopeless one. You are but a battalion-sized against an entire army. We shall not be fazed by our losses nor suffering, for in death we receive paradise. You shall not find victory if you continue your fruitless endeavor, only death."

Neraddur wasn't a man to boast. But he wasn't above using trickery if he had to. In this case, hopefully distracting the enemy commander long enough that his Tank Hunters could engage multiple walkers before a response could be formulated. A gamble but one with little cost for him.

Besides, it was always nice to know who you were going to kill.

 

[Ianswiën]

The condensation from the warmth of his breath emitted like smoke from his lips. Vulpesen wasn't wrong, it was frigid. They'd landed a safe distance away from the facilities where they wouldn't raise suspicion and draw a target on their back. The plan was to navigate back to the labs which the Zorren thought was simple enough. However, only snow and howling winds surrounded them, it was unlike the distinct trees and terrain of veradune. They had been trekking aimlessly for perhaps nearly an hour before his grandfather started grumbling.

"If we find an undead, I'll let you know. They might make a good bonfire." Ianswien joked. The agent had no idea where they were, but he would rather be bitten by one of the undead than admit they were lost.

Thunder and flashes of lightning cracked the skies, lighting the area momentarily. "We should head for cover, think there is a storm approaching..." But something told him that this was not a storm, darkness radiated in the force surrounding, formidable. Ianswein squinted at the skies where the light and darkness seem to warp, like a vacuum in space. Then a large figure appeared - as if conjured from thin air. "That guy seems to know where he is going." He pointed towards the figure gradually descending down.

Vulpesen Darth Immortuos

 

[Falentra]

While she hadn't known Grwun for long, he had saved her life in Myrkr and that alone was enough for the reserved teen to put her trust forward. The council had then put her to train under him as her new master. Nouqai didn't expect that he would take her on a crisis mission so soon - her first one for the matter. She didn't think she was ready... not after what happened in Myrkr, having lost a fight so quickly and nearly losing her life while at it... now to aid in such a precarious crisis.

Nouqai agreed to go along regardless.

The lights of the buildings came into view as the small ship descended from the thick clouds. They were in Odacer-Faustin. It wasn't a planet she had been on before, but she made sure to research enough about it. There was a facility there, where the undead virus was engineered. They were to aid in the demolition of the building.

Nouqai sat with Corvus on her lap - the black raven that followed her from Myrkr which she then adopted after it refused to leave her side. She looked at the large wookie piloting she ship... her nerves betraying her. The young jedi didn't think she was ready to encounter more sith after what the cipher of kaine did to her in Myrkr.

"Grrwun... I -" Nouqai stuttered before taking a deep breath, her hand stroking over her pet's silky feathers to try and calm her nerves. "I want to know what our plan is. And what the protocol is if things go south."

Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Amani Serys]

Marcus Dinn - Xeykard​

---

Amani stopped in front of the pair of Sith as the unfamiliar one greeted her. The painfully apparent lack of amusement was etched across her stony countenance. She looked between them, her gaze settling on Marcus as he had the audacity to 'catch up' on his sister in the midst of all this. "Better than you." She said plainly, contemplating what to do next. "Surrender yourselves. Call off your men and the undead. That's the only grace I'm offering."

Her saber pike dragged across the ground, drawing a literal line to cross. "It's either that, or I kill you." As if it wasn't a threat, merely a statement of fact, "Decide quickly. Or I'll decide for you." Peoples' lives were at stake. She wasn't going to waste time on behalf of their killers.

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

Objective 2, Near the Evacuation and Shelter area

Opposition: Azazel Xaphan


Alexandra had been relatively safe during the situation. The Shield Generator that protected the people seeking safety and shelter had been her main goal in ensuring the safety of. That was why she was sitting on the roof of a building, her legs hanging off and getting a good look at the area around her. Her eyes were specifically drawn to a convoy that would be transporting people to safety, she smiled but as she looked on something brought her eyes as she turned her head towards the sky, knowing what was coming and that there was nothing she could do to help them.

In a moment the vehicles erupted into flames, her smile vanishing and her stare turning into a glare. She would turn to focus her gaze on the area round, knowing there hadn't been any aircraft that would have been able to recon things so specifically. The Jedi and their allies would have reported such a thing, would have given more chance to survive this. She would stand slowly, her eyes unable to find anything.

"Fine." She would close her eyes, reaching out in the force and with her vision taken she let the force guide her sight. Life all flowed with the force, all existed and she knew well that there wouldnt be escape unless the thing that did this was without life.

That was not the case though, her head turning towards a building not far from her, eyes opening up as she let out a sigh.

It was time to hunt.

She stood slowly, knowing that if she did not stop this person there would be hell to pay for more people. She launched off the roof she stood on, rushing across the rooftops. Bolting as quickly as she could and soon she would land on the spot she wanted, the sound of her landing audible to Azazel from inside the room below her. He would hear the tapping of something, the sound that there was someone up there, and then silence. There was nothing, no sound, no hint of danger, and if he looked through any equipment, even the sign that there had been something above him would be gone.

Instead, infront of him, through the door a spear would shoot through, seeming to phase right through solid metal as he was attacked. The spear followed by the woman in nothing more than a jacket and trousers, wielding the silver bladed spear.​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

LOCATION - Odacer - Faustin
TAG ALLIES - Jax Thio | Vera Noble | Aris Noble
TAG FOES - Darth Carnifex | Domina Prime

Spoiler: Personal effects

"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)

Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Starship: Spectre, HK-88 (NC-1000 X-wing (Jedi Variant) in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)

Believe it or not… Caltin doesn’t have any issue with Jax… even with his emotions sucked out of him. The big man never did. The guy had to walk his own path and realize the potential he had in him on his own, it was just a chore to try to draw it out of him, often it felt like lifting a Star Destroyer with a hydrospanner.

… I said what I said…

He always felt that Jax was a Master and should “know it” or at least “have an idea” by now…

… in short… Caltin is not a babysitter.

So when the “tells” started to surface, and Thio began to show signs of self-doubt, Caltin prepared himself to take the brunt of the combat. This was what he did, and what he knew, but it was still not a good scene really. A good sign came when the Maverick seemed almost excited at the aspect of using the fighting style that the big man taught him. Then suddenly, it was the appearance of two new auras… young… young Padawans… and judging by where he could trace the aura they were indeed the Noble kids. He would have to thank them, as they brought out “The Real Jax” came out.

Jax was taking the stand Caltin knew he could. He was one of a handful of Jedi that Caltin respected, but is only the second one that the massive Jedi Master was comfortable leaving to “hold the fort”. Taking this alien by the tale and slinging her into an attempt to create some momentary distance. The reason was simple, the big man walked over , put his right hand to the back of Jax’s head and pulled the Maverick forward touching foreheads so he could whisper the words You always have. Proud of you. There was still absolutely no emotion in his words, but it was clearly true from his actions, and the fact that he never spoke a word he did not mean.

Turning and bursting into a run, his eyes on the hole in the wall as he made way into the next section of the building, it looks like he came across what was “The Armory”, Caltin made his way in momentarily. There were several munitions lying about weapons, and explosives… aaaand troopers. Caltin was not a thief and normally did not bother with any weapons but his lightsaber, but he took a sling pouch and a couple of grenades, there would have been more, but Vanagor did not even have a chance to put the pouch over his shoulder as he dropped it and fall back out of the room as they began to pursue.

He was outnumbered as always, and had to fight his way out, as always, so he did, he did not care, he couldn’t if he wanted to. The troopers had an edge hiding places, choke points, however had a problem to deal with, a grenade, sans pin, rolling into their vault near a pallatte of power cells. His next stop was those younglings. They had to be protected, so, making his way to the lifts, none of them seemed to go where he wanted to directly, so “the hard way” it is.

Caltin was not a “shadow”, to be frank, he was about as stealthy as a Hutt in a throne room, Acolytes finding him, troopers, and whatever other sentients that Carnifex forced into servitude. Some attacked, some ran, and Vanagor responded accordingly, but this was taking too much time… the younglings were in danger.

Which was more important? A known quantity who had no qualms about killing his own blood cold, or potential evidence of a genocidal bio-weapon. No question, even without the ability to feel, those younglings needed safety. That was until he saw them, they were "protected" by what looked to be a figure of solid duracrete. It looks like they had things in hand... for the moment... but Caltin would not let himself stray too far. He had to be sure that there was nothing else to find.

 

[Marcus Dinn]

Objective II
Location: Streets of Mirial
Accompanied by: Silas Fogg, Sith Alchemist
Tags: Xeykard Amani Serys

The Mirialan seemed to offer them a chance to surrender purely for the sake of keeping face. She spoke with arrogance, convinced that she was better than them in every way, from skill to moral standing. Finally, Marcus remembered her name: “Amani. Do you want a fight?”

There would be a duel regardless of her answer, but he wanted to know what sort of teacher his sister was learning from. If she was a “true” Jedi, or just like all the rest who masked their bloodlust behind a grand moralistic cause. Killing for the greater good.

“If we surrender, you’ll throw us in an asylum,” Marcus muttered darkly. “Just like you did to my mother. Death or imprisonment—that’s not much of a choice.” She had probably never redeemed a Sith. Perhaps she hadn’t even bothered to try, figuring they were all too far gone. Not worth her time. Beneath her.

Marcus raised his lightsaber and assumed a combat-ready stance. Silas did the same, though his pose was clumsier, less sure of himself. The Master Alchemist was not a great fighter, but he could defend himself—and his mastery of more esoteric Force abilities gave him an element of unpredictability. Together they made for a more formidable threat, able to fill in each other’s gaps. Or so Marcus believed.

The boy made the first move, lunging forward to strike at Amani’s neck. Silas took advantage of the distraction and came at her from her left flank, slashing at her legs.

 

[Domina Prime]

​

If It Feels Good, Taste Good, It Must Be Mine!
So Close I Can Taste it! I See Whats Mine And TAKE IT!

​

ALLY: Darth Carnifex

ADVERSARIES: Jax Thio | Caltin Vanagor

STRIKE FORCE OBJ: @Vulpesen | Darth Strosius | Aloy Vizsla | Darth Malum of House Marr | Gerwald Lechner | Jonyna Si | Taam Moghul | Azelle Narzisce

{FACILITY LOBBY}​

The cunning of these godborn never did cease to amaze the multi limbed Xeno as her complex and dangerous maneuvering was professionally managed as Jax managed to avoid striking kick towards his chest! His master however was less fortunate, being momentarily caught off guard as that massive tail had swept his feet from beneath the hulking brute of a human only for him to expertly roll out of the way of those hooked talons on her legs!

However, upon drawing his lightsaber and striking a battle ready stance Jax threw out an arm, sending out a powerful wave of divine force as many of the loose items scattered about the lobby were suddenly tossed into the open air, slamming into the walls opposite of the room!

The might of the force however only caused Domina herself to skid across the surface of the ground about one or two meters before those taloned feet dug themselves in. The near radioactive presence of Prime shielding her from basic techniques due to her death within the force.

"Is that all you got? Because right now I'm not impressed whoever the hell you are." He called to Domina in a taunt, only making her squint those multitude of eyes from behind her Mandalorian Mask before shifting her head heavily to the side in a vicious head tilt.

She brushed the dust from her broad shoulders and scoffed.

"Why would you be? Haven't even started yet~" She mused as she once again proceeded towards the pair, noticing that they were barking at one another about something, likely attempting to split themselves up in order to progress through the facility. "But if the ONLY thing you have is tricks. Then your gonna have a BAD time~" She cooed as she flicked her weaponized tail in amusement, casually strolling back towards him.

Although, splitting up, when faced with Prime was not the wisest of decisions. But these godborn tended to disregard and underestimate any and everything unrelated to their divine god! So it only made sense that they would perceive her as a problem easily dealt with given the might of their godhood.

These poor, poor godlings had no idea what they were dealing with. All their countless years of training had prepared them for one thing and one thing only.

Battle against OTHER godborn.

Their techniques, lightsaber forms, divine power, all of it was threatened only by another one of their kind. The way they clung to their sabers and dedicated their lives to them was enough to tell Prime that much.

All that training went straight out the window when faced with something outside their understanding.

"Going to need a lot more than magic tricks little godling~" She warned before brandishing her four claws and letting those Lashers attached to her back begin to ruffle and flutter into the air as stimulation had caused them to radiate their azurite coloration.

So Jax wanted to dance?

Dima hoped he knew the fucking steps~

"Go I got this! I sense a presence on top of the tower. They'll probably need your help!" Jax called to the other Jedi Master as Domina quickly closed the distance between the two of them.

"Sure about that? You'll be needing all the help you can GET!" Domina barked in delight! Immediately invading Jax Thio space and unleashing an upward clawed swipe with one of her lower arms attempting to take his chin off his face, while an upper arm swung her claws horizontally aiming for his chest. She was vicious and unrelenting, her long legs quickly advancing and playing a dangerous game of footsies with the Jedi as she brushed her ankles with his, putting her foot between his legs and then proceeding to twirl on the balls of her raptor-like feet, purposely exposing her back to the Jedi knowing that he would be itching to take a free counter hit to her exposed side when presented.

Difference between Prime, and another Godborn however, is there were no openings. Even to an exposed back as with each twirl and spin, that MASSIVE tail unleashed a blinding whip-like motion, CLEAVING through the very walls and earth as in tandem with that tail striking and whipping about, those LASHERS did the same, just as devastating as the tail but even faster and precise as they STRUCK TOWARDS Jax, leaving him on the defensive as he was forced to endure the rapid assault of Dominas four claws, that massive tail and the twin lashers on her back. All equating to SEVEN different weapons of mass devastation upon the single Jedi since his partner had so GRACIOUSLY decided that he could 'handle the xeno on his own'.

Five eyes remained so focused they dilated to pins, one eye glued to Jax's saber arm, the other focused on his free hand. The other two eyes watched his legs, seeing where he would step so she could adjust and move her feet towards his as if they were attempting a dance and she were letting him lead! Constantly trying to step on his toes and harass him by denying him even the basics of good footing to mount a counter offensive! All four arms slashing, clawing and striking towards his arms, torso, legs or knees, whatever she could claw and scratch while overwhelming him in sheer offensive dominance unmatched by any lifeform. Eyes up godborn, your divine spark will either rage, or be snuffed out like all the rest.

COMBAT SUMMERY

After initial attacks, Jax's Force Push has weakened effect, but still pushes her back a couple of yards.
Observing Caltin Vanagor 's departure, resumes assault on Jax!
Taking advantage of Dominas anatomy, proceeds to play footsies by invading his leg space
During this pressure, unleashes a vicious flurry of clawed strikes
Proceeding said strikes, twirls and spins to expose her back to him.
Each time back is turned, unleashes TAIL & LASHERS in devastating whiplashings towards Jax


​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Perhaps worse than the gargantuan woman's manic smile, and even her disturbingly crimson lips, was the trickle of familiarity that carried on the Force like a gentle breeze.

There was nothing gentle about the battlefield.

A do-gooder?

Cora's nose wrinkled in distaste as she turned her full attention towards the woman. A glance was offered to the cleaver in her hand, but the Jedi had to tilt her head back in order to meet the Amazon's gaze.

"That color does not suit you."

A finger ghosted against her own lower lip in gesture. The cleaver snapped to the side, catching an approaching zombie by the throat. A spray of blood colored the sand beneath the falling corpse. This woman – a darksider, clear from the way her imposing presence shifted in the Force – was not to be underestimated. A far more potent threat than a cadre of zombies.

Cora frowned and extended the tip of her lightsaber towards Mercy, the blue plasma humming low.

"I am going to have to ask you to leave."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Corazona von Ascania

The comment seemed to take some of the wind out of Mercy's sails.

"What?" A slow blink there as Mercy tried to process that. "What the kark do you mean? Every color suits me. What would you know about proper color schemes and complementation, Jedi??" Neither of them aware that the other was actually part of the noble class and that both were actually quite aware of the usual and unusual conventions.

For a moment it seemed that Mercy would be thoroughly distracted and annoyed about this.

But then Corazona pointed her lightsaber at her.

That's when she snapped out of it. This showed Mercy's progress as a Sith. Once upon a time she would have hauled arse to smash this puny little creature for disrespecting her so. Not anymore. Mercy was stable (more stable anyway) now. She could get herself under control at least for a little while more.

"Nice karking glow-stick, princess." Again, not realizing that Corazona was an actual bona fide Princess. She... dropped her butcher's sword and it seemed to fade away into shadows and corruption, until it was gone.

That wasn't a good sign.

Then she grabbed a piece of rock, ripping it out of the ground and threw it right at Corazona and her smug little princess face.

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

With deft precision, the wookie adjusted the controls, guiding the ship through the swirling currents of hyperspace. The stars outside the viewport stretch and warp. As the ship begins to exit hyperspace, the wookie's keen eyes scan the instrument panels, control consoles and data terminals ensuring a smooth transition into real space. With a gentle hum, the star-filled void gives way to the familiar sight of celestial bodies, each one a beacon in the darkness. Idols of light for the young Wookie when compared to the sight of the ever growing planet of Odacer-Faustin ahead of him and his new apprentice Falentra .

She was Grrwunhooolls first padawan and how they met was particularly unlike anything he had experienced before. Sure He had seen her around the Jedi Temple, but after their shared experience on Myrkr. Grrwunhoooll had a gut feeling that she was somehow meant to be paired with him. At least intill the Force had deemed other wise. If or when that time came the Wookie was prepared to take on this responsibility of Master, Teacher and Friend to the best of his ability. A task he carried well considering the weight of it. Then again he was a wookie and loyalty and honor was infused into his very being.

Navigating through varying levels of atmosphere, the starship glides effortlessly, its sleek design cutting through the air like a blade. The wookie's steady hand on the controls keeps the ship on course, adjusting for turbulence and atmospheric pressure changes with practiced ease. It was then that a voice had interrupted his focus slightly. A voice that sounded a query.

A worry.
He could sense it.

"Grrwun... I -" Nouqai stuttered before taking a deep breath, her hand stroking over her pet's silky feathers to try and calm her nerves. "I want to know what our plan is. And what the protocol is if things go south."

Grrwunhoooll glanced at his apprentice for a second and then paused in thought. A long pause that could of felt like he was perhaphs ignoring the question, but this was not the case. On the dash of the control panel the Jedi Knight grabbed a vocoder module and turned the device on. He had observed many a time other Jedi and even non jedi attempting to understand his native tongue of Shyriiwook. To make communication smoother he was given this by the Jedi Engineers. Now he would seen if it would actually work how it was intended.

Grrwunhoooll spoke aloud in response. A sequence of growls, whines and some groans. And as he spoke in Shyriiwook the vocoder translated to Galactic Basic in a voice that resembled a middle aged human male. " Stay by my side and be vigilant. I'll be honest with you though, I dont intimately know what to expect aside from what the report gave us. I hear the apprehension in your voice and your right to feel what you feel." It was a feeling that Master and apprentice shared and Grrwunhoooll was doing his best to appear as a pillar of strength for the padawan. " If things go south then we will retreat or regroup if needed. Worst case scenario we rendezvous back at the ship." After the vocoder ended, The Jedi knight began his pre-combat ritual via Jedi relaxation techniques. The median of such was breath control. In and out in deep inhales and exhales followed by brief holds of the breath.

After some consideration the Wookie scratched his head and glanced again at his apprentice. With a low growling roar he inclined his head in question and the vocoder began again. " Something specific on your mind?"

 

[Gress D'ran]

Objective II: Mirial
Break the Stalemate
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
34th Hellstompers

Engaging: Festerruman Sachiel
Objective: Keep Moving
​

With a final trigger pull her tank fired the last round it ever would.

The round pinged harmlessly, multilayered armor of the Cerberus's legs seeming to not even notice the shell as it ricocheted off the leg, and exploded elsewhere in the hellscape. The Sphinx didn't stop moving, as the underchassis ball turrets, armed with heavy Boar Blaster Cannons, opened fire on the poor tank.

Wildcats kept moving, one engaging an enemy with it's composite beam laser by slicing the turret of the Mors Ferro clean off, before rolling over it. Missile pods opened up, CHOMP Rockets flying first up, before shooting seigurium darts right through the top of the remaining tanks.

"Sir, it seems we're mopping up the last of the enemy tanks. Progress is good, but we're-"

The sound of a Thundercat being hit rang through the air.

​

Flamethrowers spewed napalm around corners. Some Pioneer-Sappers Officers carried Chainswords and where battles became so close quarters it devolved into hand-to-hand, put them to repulsive use.

The trench war had only just began.

At first, it seemed like the Chaos pact's tactics worked, flamethrowers engulfing GADF trench positions, and coating them with napalm.

That was, until the Beak blasters opened up again.

GADF marines, trained and equipped originally to fight the Enclave Mandalorians, were no stranger to flame and slug. Nemean armor seemed to actively ignore the burning jelly, and plastoid armor shrugged off slug pellets like they were bee stings. Thunderfists and Beaks opened up once more, while leadership opened up with Roar grenades to fill entire rooms of Chaos Pact troops with shocking results. It was a slugfest in some places, but the GADF's finest kept their wits. Gress had drilled his men in CQC, men pulling out Wolverine E-tools in some cases and Rex Hand-axes alongside their heavy blaster pistols and Talons. Some marines resorted to pulling out their machine pistols, the Fang, to clear trenches. It was brutal, but efficient. No man in the trenches went without a buddy, and some would resort to fist fighting, a past time of the soldiers they had honed over the last year.

Hallways became killing grounds, as Chaos Pact Soldiers were met with carefully placed blaster cannons at the end of hallways, and marine commandos equipped with Manticore Armor that seemed to laugh at enemy fire. Due to built in targeting visions and trajectory simulators, it seemed like every marine was a sniper, targetted shots filling holes in enemy troops, regardless of what the marine was using.

It was hell, but the marines would regroup at Checkpoint Satan.

​

With a hissing shriek of superheated air, the ten Tank Hunters lanced a bright blue beam of plasma at five Thundercat walkers.

"This is Ennenhim-General Neraddur. To the commander of this unit, allow me to congratulate you. It has been an unheard-of occurrence until now for the full might of one of our tank divisions to be stopped dead in its tracks in such a decisive manner. Your Alliance certainly has an arsenal of enviable walkers. I shall look forward to bringing their captured remains back to Herodor for the tech scholars to study over. Do not fret. They shall be treated with the greatest respect. I shall see to it personally," his voice was heavily filtered by his mask, "As for the men of your battalion should you choose to surrender, rest assured they will be treated with dignity and honor. Should they choose to renounce their heretical ways and convert to the Cult of Khaos we shall welcome them with open arms into our crusading armies. Indeed, I would look forward to perhaps fighting alongside you."

"But understand this. Your fight is a hopeless one. You are but a battalion-sized against an entire army. We shall not be fazed by our losses nor suffering, for in death we receive paradise. You shall not find victory if you continue your fruitless endeavor, only death."

The first thing for Gress to register was the loss of Krayt 1 and 2. Neither fell, but they were left inoperable. He cursed, calling over the radio.

"Krayt, status report!"

His words were cut off by the gas-mask wearing hooligan.

As soon as the hologram appeared, Gress switched gears, making a subtle, but directed gesture to his comms officer.

"Is that so? Surrender?" Gress's cool demeanor shined through as he took a drag of his cigar. "Don't do that here, sorry. As for the size of your troops, can't say I'm impressed. You could throw your whole planet at us and I don't think my men would flinch. How 'bout this? You keep talking, and maybe I'll consider it."

The comms officer, Phones, started typing. Gress was no stranger to letting his men take command in his absence, and he wasn't going to be fooled by some nut in a gas-mask. He was however, interesting in what the nut had to say.

Elsewhere, the commander of Krayt took stock of the situation. Of his five Thundercats, two had been disabled, their shields first taken out, then their legs damaged. One had fallen to it's knees, a walker commanders tactic to keep the walker upright while repair droids were deployed. The other three had thrown everything they had into shields as soon as they realized the shots were coming, losing power temporarily, but now shieldless, resorting to deploying their Frosties to block direct line of sight and thermal targetting as they moved to retreat from the immediate fight. They couldn't see the enemy, but they knew the direction they were coming from. Those shots could be triangulated.

For now though, they had a plan.

"This is Krayt Commander to Falcon Command. Need suppressive barrage on the following coordinates. 24 plasma, 12 Ion."

36 turbolaser rounds soared overhead towards the remains of the old warehouse. If they couldn't figure out the exact location of the enemy fire, they'd simply reduce the general area to dust, and shut off whatever was in there with massive ion bursts.

It was inelegant, but it was a solution. Raven droids hovered above, just out of range of the ion bursts, scanning the area with LIDAR and heat detection. Whatever that area held, it would be found.

Wildcats slowly pushed in, using their low signatures to watch the area. They had acted as the forward spearhead, now they acted as the defensive line against whatever had hit them, while Cougars and Lynxes fired on infantry in the trenches, grenade launchers and Warthog blaster cannons opening up on whatever was giving the marines trouble.

 

[Vulpesen]

​

Obj: 3: Odacer-Faustin
Loadout: Battlefield
Tags: Ianswiën Darth Immortuos
Allies: GA
Enemies: Sith

The Sith Lord's arrival was heralded by a sickening feeling in Vulpesen's gut. It was as if the force was howling in pain as it was ripped apart to make room for the dark presence that made its way over the snow covered ground and the Arch Wilder barely heard is grandson's commentary over the sound of his own growling. "He certainly made quite the entrance." His form began to shrink and straighten, returning to his more humanoid form, once again clad int he Varos cloak with its runes glowing from their interaction with the force. "Lets show him the way out."

Vulpesen plucked his lightsaber from his belt and strode towards the sith, his tail flicking in anticipation as he sensed the evil emanating from what he could only assume was a man. "If you surrender and tell us where to find the manufacturing plant for the virus, I might consider letting you go. At the very least, I'll put in a good word for you at sentencing." It was as fair a deal as any, the Valde could made. But given that the virus was a bioweapon of terror that made people eat their loved ones... he doubted that even with the deal, any supporting sith would see more than the possibility of life without parole.

 

[Azelle Narzisce]

SHADOW
DARTH SCABROUS' TOWER | ODACER-FAUSTIN
ALLIES: Gerwald Lechner | SO
ENEMIES: Jonyna Si | Taam Moghul | GA | NJO
ENGAGING: Taam Moghul
GEAR: In bio

DEATH BY ROCK N ROLL​

Good grief, he was annoying.

When Gerwald gave his patronising answer, Azelle rolled her eyes with a sigh. She wasn't some ignorant and useless Acolyte. She long since passed that point. If the yipping continues, he might find himself dead on the frozen ground and not by a Jedi blade. She'd go along with his delusions, but only up to a point. He might come face to face with the very Sith pride that he thinks she doesn't have.
"Do you even hear yourself, Hound?" she deadpanned at him, completely ignoring his flash of anger. "You almost died at my hand and it wasn't even a half-cooked plan. I'm much more observant than you think, or haven't you noticed that the weather kicked up ten notches from one specific direction? Bet you can't do what I can and actually disappear." Better shut your yapper or I'll shut it for you.

Or whatever Jedi conjured the increased weather can do it for her.

The weather shifted again, with more fervor, interrupting the tension. Those they were waiting for, were close now. Azelle would swear to the day she died that Gerwald actually sniffed the air like a real dog. Weirdo.

"Let's play a little hide and seek with these Jedi… hmmm?"

"Finally we can agree on something." she said with a sinister smile of her own before fading into the shadows of the ruins as well.

She wouldn't stay as she was, however. Her Force Presence shifted as she moved, giving the appearance of another Lightsider, however a weaker one or, to the Jedi, that of a Padawan. Time to play some games with the oh-so-compassionate Jedi.

They were moving into her playground now.

She felt the wind picking up and just the slight change in its sound and knew they were here. Hopefully the pain in her butt had enough of a hunter's instinct to keep them guessing as to where exactly within these ruins each of them were. For now, she was going to have some fun and not worry about his ugly mug.

With the change in her Presence, she lingered in one place just long enough to give the impression that she was being tortured.
"Please stop! I don't have anything left to tell you!" Azelle's very distraught voice echoed through the ruins, giving the impression that she was some prisoner of a Sith. Then she moved again, remaining unseen.

She was deep into the ruins now, her occasional distraught pleadings echoing against the cold walls and amplified by the icy wind that swept through them. She wanted to bait at least one toward her, to an exact place of her choosing. High and low walls with little area between them to move, something that may have been a hallway once. Rubble littered the floor while the shadows of the walls loomed over it while the icy wind whipped around flurries of snow, creating the perfect blanket to hide within.

An Assassin's dream.

Would a Jedi come sweeping to save a little Padawan that didn't exist?

Would they look to try and find someone behind walls that weren't there?

Predator or prey - none of them ever looked up.

 

[Amani Serys]

Marcus Dinn - Xeykard​

Amani's sneer twitched, "'Want… a fight'?" She repeated incredulously. The gall to ask such a thing, in the midst of all this carnage, wrought by their own hands. "No. I don't 'want a fight'. But when you bring a plague of undead and a platoon of thugs to butcher the innocent, it's not really a question of if I 'want' it. And not only that, but you have brought it to Mirial. Which means you have made it personal, to me." Even as they spoke, their forces were milling about, destroying and exterminating. The Alderaanians helped even the playing field, but the sheer chaos made it difficult to present a unified front. Was this even worth the time she was wasting?

“If we surrender, you’ll throw us in an asylum. Just like you did to my mother. Death or imprisonment—that’s not much of a choice.”

"Consequences a new concept to you? Welcome to the real world. You've made your bed, you can lie in it." Amani found it almost childish. The whines for freedom while subjugating everyone else. "Or, you can be dragged into it kicking and screaming like a brat. And end up as just another faceless body on a thousand year old pile of dead, failed Sith. That's the choice you have." And he's lucky he was getting that much, she thought, but didn't say.

Marcus attacked. Amani blocked, "That's what I thought." Her blade deflected Marcus' to the side, while the pike haft stopped Silas' attack at her legs. She attempted to ward them back with a twirl of her weapon. But to really create space, she opened her palm towards the ground, releasing a powerful Force shockwave. Ice and snow cleared in a wide radius around them, revealing the permafrost soil beneath. And if the Sith weren't prepared, they'd find themself clearing the area with just as much kinesis.

 

[Konrad Montrose]

After firing a final shot into the lifeless creature's body, a sigh of relief escaped Konrad's lips, though it was short-lived. The distant sounds of conflict sent a jolt of anxiety through him, almost causing his heart to skip a beat. Another curse slipped from his mouth as he muttered, "Perhaps I should have stayed back and attended lessons today." It was a testament to the severity of the situation when even the notorious lesson skipper considered the idea of staying put.

Glancing at his blaster, a thought crossed his mind: 'I'm going to need a bigger gun.' With determination, he set off in search of the armory on the planet. If worse came to worst, Konrad was not above employing his persuasive skills to acquire a weapon from an unsuspecting soldier, despite being a Padawan. Even though he possessed a lightsaber, it was a tool he seldom used.

Tags | open

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

LOCATION - Odacer - Faustin
TAG ALLIES - Jax Thio | Vera Noble | Aris Noble
TAG FOES - Darth Carnifex | Domina Prime

Spoiler: Personal effects

"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)

Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Starship: Spectre, HK-88 (NC-1000 X-wing (Jedi Variant) in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)

He wasn’t hiding, but Caltin was not going to use either of his lightsabers right now. Not only did he not need either of them, but they would consistently give away his position. Hall to hall, the big man ran into security details, and patrols. He needed to move and move fast, so the Force in his legs would assist with his speed. Caltin’s attacks were swift, and hard hitting, but not lethal. They were no threat to him so there was no use in using lethal force. Take for example the fire team of four rounding the corner. The first “point man” would get “speared” to which Caltin would roll through it, grabbing onto whatever he could of the second “cover” or third “fire” man and throw them into (if not through) the far wall and front kick the fourth. Punches, kicks, and more throws would rule the moment, especially after one of them jammed a rifle butt hard into the side of his head.

Mistake.

Luckily there were absolutely no emotions coming from him, but the look on Caltin’s face said all that any of those troopers needed to know about the level of their actions. Picking up the nearest soldier in front of him by an arm and a leg and throwing him over a rail, Caltin focused on the one to his right and through the Force, pushed him hard down the hallway. The final was immobilized through the Force, the big man was levitating the trooper in front of him as the others unloaded their weapon’s powercells they killed their own, not him.

Up one level was what he was looking for, a vault, and judging by the security detail, it was indeed strains of the undead virus that were being protected in its holds. He could not assault directly, they would simply call for all possible help to slow him down and speed up the withdrawal. So Caltin had to think outside the box on this one, giving him an advantage in a manner that wouldn’t give him away. It was a two man patrol nearby that would give him that gift. Jumping in front of the two and quickly utilizing a powerful mind trick, he looked in their eyes.

I am not the one you are looking for.

“You are not the one we are looking for.”

“You are not the one we are looking for.”

The Jedi are hiding in stolen trooper uniforms.

“The Jedi are hiding in stolen trooper uniforms.”

“The Jedi are hiding in stolen trooper uniforms.”

They are liars, and want to silence you.

“They are liars, and want to silence us.”

“They are liars, and want to silence us.”

You need to take them out, quickly.

“We need to take them out quickly.”

“We need to take them out quickly.”

Without another word, the two trooper burst into a sprint and were quickly in a firefight with their brethren. The screams of weapons fire, and bursts of “We’re on the same side!” and “What is wrong with you?” rang the halls as Caltin slipped into a nearby room and pulled out “Conservator.”

SNAP-HISS

Ready, he slammed the blade into the wall, slowly, efficiently working to cut a hole into the wall. He would get into the vault through the side door (he was creating).

​

 

[Marcus Dinn]

Objective II
Location: Streets of Mirial
Accompanied by: Silas Fogg, Sith Alchemist
Tags: Xeykard Amani Serys

Amani’s diss was fine; her sharp tongue was in excellent form. But there was a sense of futility in her tone and words, as if she were wondering if any of this was even worth it. She called him a brat and seemed to view the task of war almost as a form of babysitting.

As the fight began, visions swirled in Marcus’ head. He saw flashes of a peaceful home life, a loving family in a vast white palace. “Your thoughts dwell on your family,” he said. “Why aren’t you at home with them?”

Of course, he already knew the answer. She was here to protect the innocent. This was Mirial, the homeworld of her species. It was personal to her. But his words were meant, if not to wound, then to put her mind on a specific track toward thinking about what really mattered most to her.

The blast of kinetic force caught him off guard, knocking him back. He managed to stay on his feet, though the ice that had suddenly spread across the ground made it slippery.

Silas resisted the shockwave, continuing the duel against Amani alone. But it was clear that Amani was the more experienced opponent, and he wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. Marcus skidded across the ice, which began to melt beneath his boots as he used the Force to generate heat. The soil grew muddy—still not ideal terrain for fighting, but less likely to cause him to slip and fall on his arse.

His lightsaber swung in a wide overhead arc down toward her. “Do you really think you’re making a difference here?” he scoffed. “Are you so arrogant to think that the fate of this planet rests on your shoulders?”

 

[Azazel Xaphan]

---

---

Tag: Alexandra Feanor

Spoiler: Equipment

Armour
-Wolfsbane Heavy Armor
-Beskar vambraces

Weapons
-EE-4 carbine rifle
-DT-29 heavy blaster pistol
-Vibro-Beskad Bayonet

-7-PrG proton grenade
-Baradium-core code key thermal detonator
-Compound Flex-5 Detonite Tape

Xaphan armed his blaster the moment he heard the pounding of footsteps on the roof of the top-floor apartment. His audio sensors hadn't picked up the sound of engines or a jump pack. One pair of feet judging by the pace of footfalls. He tracked the sound with his barrel, setting his EE-4 to high-powered single-shot to penetrate through the roof, but by the time he had locked on the noise was gone.

Whatever that was, it was fast. They were already inside the apartment complex with him. He reached into his sheath and drew out his Vibro-Beskad blade, gripping it in his left hand while leaving his right holding his carbine as a pistol. He could either evacuate, he thought, or eliminate this hunter right here right now. Staying here would dramatically shift the equation of survival against him but he knew if he didn't take down whoever this was they would continue to interfere with his mission.

First things first, get out of the kill box that was this apartment unit he was in and set up his own to take on this unknown hunter. He made for the door only to find...

A woman phasing through it like it didn't even exist. Curse the Gods. A blasphemer and a heretic who used the forbidden powers of the so-called Force. Xaphan was forced to dramatically revise his equation of survival.

His eyes immediately began to analyze. Humanoid with a tail. Female-appearance. Lithe but well-built. Skilled with the spear she wielded given the way she stood. He wouldn't be surprised if she was trained in the martial arts of the Echani. That made things complicated given the extremely close quarters of this tiny apartment. He could maybe get a few ineffective shots off before she closed the distance with no guarantee that she wouldn't just deflect it back at him.

That spear was ringing every single alarm bell in his head. That strange feeling he always got intensified as he focused on it. It was made up of some light and luminescent silver metal. His Impervium-infused Wolfsbane armor plating could shrug off most blaster fire from the front and even deflect lightsabers but he wasn't confident it could withstand a full-powered thrust from that lance.

No other option.

"I've done my job" he grunted, his voice filtered through his gas mask, "They're already dead. Get out of my way unless you want to join them."

He hoped that it would somehow throw his attacker off, distract them.

Xaphan triggered the flamethrower on his right gauntlet, blasting a lance of burning napalm at the attacker. He knew that wouldn't bring any competent force-user down for long. That wasn't the point. Servos in his Wolfsbane flexed as lunged forward, the ferrocrete floor under his feet cracking. The world around him became a blur. To his attacker, it would look like a demon emerging from flame.

He braced his shoulder, turning sideways to reduce his profile as much as possible while protecting his flank facing her with the plating on his upper arm. He sought to slam her against the wall, crush the wind from her lungs. A full-powered thrust from her spear couldn't happen if she didn't have the space to make that happen.

 

[Darth Immortuos]

​

Objective III
Location: On the ground, Approaching the Jedi things.
Equipment: In sig
Enemies: Vulpesen Ianswiën
Allies: Sith

Apon arrival to the planet of Odacer-Faustin, The husk of a Sith Lord was seemingly greeted by two figures below. From the height and angle Immortuos was levitating, his peripheral gaze found the duo with the same indifference that a man would have if he noticed lint in a coat pocket. Though Lord of Decay was being addressed by two living beings, Jedi by the look, To Immortuos they were merely "things". Either way he felt nothing for them and this was reflected in action by Immortuos levitating himself slowly to ground below. His head and bone-like crown rotating slowly about his surrounding. A wretched husk draped in the shroud of his own demise. His form is swallowed by tattered, loose-fitting black robes that seem to cling to his emaciated frame like funeral shrouds. Each thread whispers tales of some type of neglect and despair, a macabre echo of the life he once knew. The stench of decay hangs heavy around him, a putrid miasma that choked the air and could of turned stomach with its sickly sweet grasp. His skin, stretched tight over his skeletal visage. It was a canvas of corruption, ravaged by time and neglect. Hollow cheeks were etched with deep lines of suffering, and sunken shadowy eyes, dull and lifeless, were a reflection of a soul long since surrendered to the eternal bond of the darkside of the force.

It appeared as if the Sith Lord did not hear what was spoken to him. But this was not true. He did hear.

"If you surrender and tell us where to find the manufacturing plant for the virus, I might consider letting you go. At the very least, I'll put in a good word for you at sentencing."

With a sharp unnatural jerk of the neck, Immortuos contorted his vision directly toward the duo of things before him. The Jedi. Midst the wind that blew now more harshly, there was a opening in his upper robes that was touched by the nearby light. Light that revealed a smirk. It grew and grew revealing more and more horrors within what once was covered. The Sith Lords lips peeled back, revealing rows of yellowed, cavity-ridden teeth and the air grew heavy with the same sense of wrongness. It mirrored the Siths arrival almost perfectly. Each tooth resembled a jagged, serrated blade, honed to a deadly point that glistened ominously in the darkness. But it was not the sharpness that inspired terror; it was the thick, viscous black liquid that oozed relentlessly from the crevices between each tooth. The sickening sound of the gooey substance dripping from this monsters mouth echoed through the growing storm in the night and was followed by a moist symphany of smacking. Up and down the maw motioned as if chewing. It dripped a molten tar, pooling at the base of the teeth before dribbling down Immortuos's chin in thick black tendrils. And through it all, the shovel like grin reminded etched across his visage.

Clenching a gold armored fist and raising his right gloved hand toward his chest, Immortuos drew power from the darkside relic he wore and held tightly onto the rapid increasing metaphysical energy before letting it explode out with a stretched out motion of his gauntlet. A Force wave of telekinetic power poised to impact both Vulpesen and Ianswiën immediate and adjacent areas without discretion.

Only then did the Lord of Decay finally speak aloud.
" I cannot be caged. I cannot be controlled."