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Strange Terrain | CIS Invasion of TJE-held Zonmira

- - - - - CIS TJE The Confederacy

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#1
Eternal Muse

Eternal Muse

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Z O N M I R A


So typical it is for the shadow to fade at nightfall.

In the wake of the utter devastation unleashed by Confederate and Sith-Imperial forces the Jen'ari Empire seemingly fell. A meager glance at the aftermath of the offenses told a story similar to the destruction of the Galactic Alliance: that returning to stability was an utter impossibility. Copera. Csilla. And many of the adjoining systems soon found themselves relieved of the Jen'ari shackles which held them bound. Overnight, the darkness which had risen in order to swallow them whole...had been cut down. Or so they thought. For some, the victory had been absolute - but the Vicelord knew his ilk. The sons and daughters of the Dark Side were incredibly difficult to smite with any finality. Time and time again, Empires rose within the modern galaxy, only to be laid low. But in time, the same hands and the same faces would raise them from the ash.

Darth Metus suspected that this would occur. And stray whispers led to the confirmation of this fact. It was by pure happenstance that the Jen'ari Remnant decided to begin anew in a particular arm of the Galaxy. Pure happenstance that their newfound dominance swelled within a corner of space practically unknown to most of civilization. In fact, if not for corporate avarice decades prior, their presence would have come into being undetected by the Confederacy. However. Fortune smiled upon the Southern Systems - for a report reached the Vicelord's office by a rather atypical means. It was not by the Knights Obsidian. Not even by the Bothan SpyNet. His personal, corporate terminal erupted with the news - for the fringe office of House Verd, Incorporated had witnessed the adjacent Empire come into being firsthand.

The question then arose - what to do about this budding threat?

The Confederate forces were still licking their wounds from Eshan. Their warriors still exerting their dominance over the Exclusion Zone. But. There existed a legion for this specific purpose. A Vanguard of the highest caliber who would rapidly respond to any and all threats to the Southern Systems. Upon receiving word that the Jen'ari yet persisted, they rallied under the cry that had seen Tatooine reclaimed, Copero purged, and Eshan liberated. We shall not suffer another Empire to live. The Dauntless Legion had been unleashed and the Jen'ari Empire would never again know the rest of anonymity.


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Objectives

Edited by Eternal Muse, 15 March 2019 - 07:31 PM.


#2
Luna Terrik

Luna Terrik

    The Fallen Angel

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Time: 1000 Hours

Location: Hyperspacing into Zonmira on the Rebellious Hawk

Tags: (Allya Vi'Dreya, @Sarge, Damsy Callat, Pei Ven, Lucius Crane, Symara Tarriq, Zavek Ambrose, Ethan Winters, Lis'Ra Fennick, Rato Hus ) – The Dauntless Crew + Anyone else attacking objective 2

Team: Helldivers

Equipment: Dauntless Armor,  SC4 RepeaterTactical Recon Handguns (2)

 

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              The alarms blared loudly. Constantly. Red lights flashing every few seconds signaled to the entire ship that they would soon be coming out of hyperspace. Dauntless troopers and commandos raced through the hallways to get to their assigned posts and positions. Everyone had an assigned area, and time was running out to be ready once they those blue lights outside the viewports turned back into the twinkling of white stars.

 

              The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 5 minutes. Crew to their battle stations. Ground forces to your assigned hanger.

 

              Luna, the Dauntless’s commanding officer, was among those that were hurrying to make it to their assigned places. Having just left a final call between the other two Hellspear Frigates on this mission, the Invictus and the Vulture, meant that she was late arriving into the hanger. Even so, the commander couldn’t help but take a moment to look out of one of the hallway’s viewports, knowing that somewhere out there it the vast blue of swirling light, her comrades were doing the same. Hustling to get into position to storm and tame the planet they had been assigned to.

 

              Zonmira was a lava world, with it’s most notable feature being the Jen’ari Empire military HQ that the capital city held. That was the Helldivers’s, Dauntless’s target once they got boots on the ground. They were bring that building to it’s knees and deal a crippling blow to the Jen’ari war effort, before they were even able to mount a counterattack. It was a mission perfect for the Dauntless and those that would be fighting beside them, and Luna couldn’t help but feel a small bit of excitement.

 

              The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 4 minutes. Crew to their battle stations. Ground forces to your assigned hanger.

 

              The monotone voice over the ship’s loudspeaker was enough to bring the commander out of her thoughts and spur her back on her journey to the hanger, which didn’t take her long to make her way to. Once arriving, a buzz of activity could be felt by the hundreds of armored men and women present. Final flight preparations by the shuttles were being done. Weapon and armor checks by the commanding officers of the squads was being checked off. There was even some idle conversation by those that were already prepared, talking between their squads knowing that this might be the last moments they were seen alive.

 

              The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 3 minutes. Crew to their battle stations. Ground forces to your assigned hanger.

 

              Bobbing and weaving her way through the crowds of activity was not an easy task, especially as the redhead was constantly being stopped to salute to other squads, go over final checks, or even just be given or give a word of encouragement. She should have perhaps been in the hanger earlier, but with the mission being so focused on the Dauntless’s presence, it meant that everything had to go well from the get go. The squads had their targets, as well as the allies they were to meet up with on the ground, by final double and triple approvals were always something to strive for.

 

              Eventually the commander was able to make her way to the shuttle she was designated for, giving her squad a quick nod. Under her helmet, the commander was grimacing. Many of these men and women she had fought side by side with on multiple battle fronts, and for some, like the attack on Eshan, had saved her life more than once. Knowing that this might be the last time she saw their faces full of life never failed to send a twang of pain through her heart.

 

              Thinking of Eshan also caused her to have a slight pain in her right temple, where a new scar underneath the helmet laid. Not a large one, but noticeable. From a piece of the SSD that had crashed into the planet. Thankfully it didn’t cause her any more trouble seeing than she already had from the pilot refueling incident all those years ago, but it certainly good at all. This was her first combat deployment since then as well. And once the moment her boots hit the ground, all thoughts of sentiments and past pains would go away, for she had to focus on the moment, so that as many loved ones got to see their families once again.

 

              The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 2 minutes. Crew to their battle stations. Ground forces to your assigned hanger.

 

              This was among the final calls, the final warnings before they dropped out of hyperspace along with the Veil and other starships. From there, they would begin the liberation of the planet. Dauntless and CIS forces together, liberating the people group from the iron fist of the Emperor of his so called Empire.

 

              Hopping onto the shuttle that would be her chariot to the surface, the commander gave nods to each and every one of the people hopping onto shuttle with her, taking a special moment to pat Pei, her closest squadmate and friend on the shoulder, grinning from underneath her helmet, one that she knew he would be able see even if it was blocked. From her position in her assigned shuttle, she could hear the rustling of the rest of the squads in the hanger getting close to, or hopping into, their chariots to the surface.

 

              The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 1 minute. Crew to their battle stations. Ground forces to your assigned hanger.

 

              It wouldn’t be long now. It wouldn’t be long until she would feel the rush of battle that had been stolen from her for a time on Eshan. It wouldn’t be long until she was charging into blaster fire yet again.

 

              And boy, she could not wait.

 

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#3
Scherezade deWinter

Scherezade deWinter

    The Blood Hound

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Wearing: Armor | Leather Pants | Honey Boo Prototype Combat Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Hidden Wrist Blades | Knight Obsidian Sword | 4 Glitter Bullets

Location: The Veil

Tags: Anyone who wishes to join

Allies: Confederate of Independent Systems and those who fight with them

Enemies: The Jen'ari Empire and those who fight for them

Post: One

 

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"All right," Madalena said with a firm nod as she sat at the head of the table, "y'all know the rules. This is us going up against the Jen'ari Empire, and we're going to do the very same thing we did last time."

 

Knowing she had the audience's attention, the Knight Obsidian grinned from ear to ear as she produced a medium sized purple package out of seemingly nowhere, and flashed the text that was on it to all those who had gathered along with her aboard the Veil. Many of them knew what this was, because they had played with her en-route to Copero. There were some new faces here now though.

 

"Ladies, gentlemen, aliens, droids," she smiled, "I present to you – Cards Against the Confederacy."

 

Taking her seat, the curvaceous Warrior removed two piles of cards, one white and one black, and began to expertly shuffle them. Everyone who was at the table received their seven white cards, while she set the black pile in front of her. She was going to read first.

 

"The rules are simple. Slide me one of the white cards that you will be using in response to my black card, and I will read it out. I choose who had the best response and they get a point. After that, the pack moves to the person on my right, and we do the whole thing. Whoever has the most points by the time we arrive and need to go planet-side is the winner and gets a kiss from Srina Talon."

 

Kicking back, the Sithling smiled once more.

 

"Game on!"

 

Taking her black card, she flipped it around and read it out loud.  "Only Confederate Viceroys would waste hours talking about _________?"


Edited by Scherezade deWinter, 15 March 2019 - 07:54 PM.

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#4
Kiff Brayde

Kiff Brayde

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OBJECTIVE: Establish CIS Dominance of Zonmira's Skies

SHIP: The CNS Victator, Invictus-class Battlecruiser

ALLIES: All CIS Forces
ENEMIES: All Jen'ari Forces

The Victator, Hyperspace

 

At last, the Confederacy was at war. No one could forget the hardships that they had faced against the Mandalorians over Eshan, but this was different. This was not some noble campaign to reinstate a Queen to her rightfully-deserved thrown. This was an attack purely meant to waste the Jen'ari, to hurt it so badly that it could never rise from the ashes. Politicians might put a nice spin on it, but for all of his jokes Kiff knew the true purpose and cost of war. He had seen it so often that it had become commonplace to him, and he was not one to begin questioning the Vicelord himself on whether or not some outback empire full of Sith should get what they owed or not. And for the first time in a while, Kiff wasn't joking around. Not yet, at least. There was too much to get done, and he knew that he could save the jokes for when the ships of the Jen'ari were reduced to spinning debris and burnt-out hulls. Until then, it was all hands on deck.

 

As the blue swirls of Hyperspace swirled around the bridge of the Victator, the officers aboard were busy with preparing the fleet for the upcoming attack. Checks, double-checks and triple-checks were made of every system, gunnery command had given the order for crews to warm up their batteries, shields were at maximum, starfighter squadrons were ready and dropships full to the brim of troopers and droids were on standby to be deployed. Meanwhile, Kiff stood at the edge of a large holotable ringed by officers and commanders, as displays of the 186th along with their respective statuses and locations were constantly updated in a live feed. Senior officers from sub-squadrons within the battleline were also present via holotransmission, listening as reports and orders were given. 

 

"We'll be reverting to realspace as close to Zonmira's atmosphere as possible to give our Sigmas a good chance to get to the surface. Commander Forrin, you and the Cherobyl will be taking the lead with the Doppelganger providing firepower for any unfriendlies. For the rest of you, our top priority is making sure that we create a wedge in the Jen'ari's defenses. We have fleets of dropships and carriers that will be torn to shreds, with their infantry and artillery inside, unless we can break through the orbital defenses. We won't be alone, but the Jen'ari are tough and they're prepared for a siege. This is going to be a lot more fun than Copereo." The various commanders nodded as their assignments were given, and the flight commander of the Victator folded his arms thoughtfully. None of them questioned his judgement; it was sensible plan and one that they had more or less expected. Kiff knew that and appreciated that no dissent had been raised, but there was no time to savor the moment. "Commander Jol, the Valor, Arkanis and Valiance will be at the center of the triangle formation, with the Valor in front. The Victator will be focusing on their larger ships; I need our Star Destroyers to aim at their carriers and support vessels. If we can destroy those, then the bigger battlecruisers should not be a problem."

 

Jol nodded, saluting as Kiff cleared his throat in the manner that indicated the debriefing was over. One by one the officers keyed out, and those who were onboard the Victator strode to their respective stations. In a few minutes, they would be at Zonmira. And then the fun would begin.

 


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#5
Lirka Ka

Lirka Ka

    The mean Elf-lady

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Location: The Veil

Tags: None, running solo

Allies: CIS

Enemies: TJE

 

Revenge took many forms, that was all this was to Lirka: not the stamping of another Imperial tumor on the Galaxy. It was revenge, pure and basic revenge. The Jen’ari had scarred her at Copero, stolen her arm and eye. She intended to crush them, the ruthless butchery she displayed on that rock wouldn’t even compare to what she would unleash today.

If given the chance, she would level the planet single-handedly: take as long as needed to do so. Such was the unending pit of spite some people called Lirka Ka.

 

But spite needed to be controlled, and as she waited for the Veil to arrive and the reaping to begin she decided such wrath was better saved for the battlefield. Lirka had decided to convene with her Honor Guard before being launched planetside, for regardless of this coming dance with the beast known as vengeance, which fueled her soul to such acts of malice: she did not believe things would be so simple.

 

Lirka was not a religious woman by no means, nor a superstitious one at that. Violently did she shun such prospects, invoking the old gods of Thustra when the need showed itself. But regardless of these things, she could not help but feel a lingering shadow, a darkness that covered the bizarre little group of Sephi in the unending tide of droids and other lunatics.

 

This did not stop the time to rejoice before the carnage, for one never knew when one battle would be their last. Huddled within one of the Hangars, sitting on crates or standing the Sephi drank. They joshed as old comrades did, even though they had known each other for little time at all (to an extent at least, a reuniting was much more apt description), shouting out cries of battle and hunts for glory on the field of war.

 

Even the most somber were able to have fun, sometimes.

 

Of course, no such feelings would survive when the killing started. There was only the art of battle then.

 

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#6
Zak Amroth

Zak Amroth

    worst jedi

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Location: Lower City, Zonmira

Objective: What Happened Last Night?

Allies: CIS Probably

Enemies: Jen'ari or Whichever Empire This One Is

Equipment: Expeditionary Suit, Hand Cannon, Backup Piece, Lightsaber, Backup Blades

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"Oh man, my head is killing me."

 

A sudden pain radiated throughout his body, like flying sparks. Zak clutched his battered ribs defensively.

 

"So, not dead after all. Documentation."

 

"Docu-what now?" he groaned.

 

"Your ID slip. Where are you from?"

 

"Where am I?" Zak blinked up at the two Imperial security force officers without comprehension.

 

"Where gutter trash like you belongs, the lower city," when he continued to stare at them, the speaker shook his head and sighed, "The capital? Must have been one night."

 

"Right..." he glanced back and forth between them, "Which planet is this?"

 

"Okay, on your feet. You're coming with us."

 

He heard the all too familiar sound of stun cuffs activating, and hung his head dejectedly. This was a new low. While being hauled roughly to his feet Amroth tried to make sense of his surroundings, to piece anything he was seeing now together with a memory from before. Whoever these brusque gentlemen were, they were right. It had been a particularly noteworthy evening, although he could remember virtually none of the particulars. There was just a vague impression that things had probably gotten a little out of control. He had been celebrating the First Order's departure from Terminus, and after about the third day of revelry was when things began to grow somewhat hazy.

 

"But I'm a law enforcement officer!" Zak protested.

 

"Sure you are, buddy."

 

"I am! I'm sheriff of an entire planet!"

 

"Uh huh." so concentrated was he on struggling, Sheriff Amroth didn't notice the not so subtle glances exchanged between his two captors.



#7
ToKola Bakari

ToKola Bakari

    I am a son of the Mountain.

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Location: The Veil {Hyperspace} | Allies: The Confederacy | Enemies: The Jen'ari Empire | TagsScherezade deWinter | Objective: Prepare for Combat

 

Cardinal had barely recovered from his wounds when his brother had ordered their next strike against The Jen'ari. Even now his body ached from the wounds he had suffered from Eshan. Unlike most others, Cardinal could not be healed through conventional means. Most modern medicine was harmful to his bodies natural healing capacity so he was forced to go into deep trances so he could heal from grievous injuries. 

 

Eshan. 

 

Just the thought of the planet brought on a heavy memory of shame. It had been his first defeat in years. His brother, Darth Metus, had perfected the man into a machine bred and perfected for war. He was not supposed to lose, he was not supposed to be defeated, but he had been. 

 

On the eve before the strike against Zonmira, Cardinal stood in the refresher, staring at his reflection in the mirror. A rough hand ran over his jaw, his arm rolling over his head as his hand swept over the long thin braids that fell from his head. He rolled the braids into his fingers, pulling at the tightly woven ropes for a moment before his hand fell to the sink in front of him. He exhaled, his hand stretching over the sink to take the shears in his hand. How long had he been sporting the thinly woven braids? One hundred years? Longer. It was just hair. However, the meaning behind it seemed a bit more than the man wanted to admit. 

 

Cardinal said nothing and began to cut at the strands. They fell down to the peak of his back when he began, however now he pulled them to be only a few inches out from his head. He snorted at his reflection. 

 

"I look like chit..." He muttered. Still, there was more to be done. Over the next hour Cardinal would release each of the clasps that maintained his braids. Luckily they had been freshly relocked so they were freed fairly easy. After freeing his braids and returning his hair to a soft pad. After cutting it and shearing his beard a bit, the man dunked his head into a sink filled with water. Pulling from the water, he cleared his face of the liquid and smirked at what he saw. He looked like a completely new man. His beard was more tightly trimmed and his hair had been trimmed into something a bit more stylish, and certainly better for combat. 

 

When it came for Cardinal to seek out his Knights, he had an idea of where they would be. He walked down the hall, his sunburnt eyes showing a fiery glimmer in them that had not been there in the days before. Maybe he had let Eshan put him down farther than he should have, still he was ready to return to the war in full form. No, he was ready to return a new Warrior.

 

The Dominus Prime hefted his warspear, Msomaji, over his shoulder, sighing a bit. "They're probably...." Cardinal tapped the back of his spear against a nearby door, watching it slide into its host as he was revealed the group gathered for one of Scherezade deWinter card games. Some of the Knights seemed surprised by Cardinal's new appearance, he merely flashed them a playful grin. "Trying a new look." He glanced down to Madalena, arching a brow at her and the game she was leading. "We land in under an hour. Game gonna be done by then?" He asked, before flipping the tip of his spear down and tucking it into his waistband. "Well, deal me in.

 

As the woman went over the rules to the game, Cardinal sat silently, still not fully grasping the rules until the very end. "Ah, so it's just about making a joke. Good, my sense of humor is known galaxy-wide." The blank stares that met him from the other Knights told him, they did not agree. "What?! Shut up." He commanded them, before smirking and looking down to the cards that had been placed in his hand. 

 

Cardinal listened to Madalena call out the phrase and his eyes danced over the options in his hand. He gazed at them for a moment before plucking one card, sliding it over to the woman so it couldn't be seen. 

 

It had been a decent choice, 

 

Twi'lek Dancers.


Edited by Cardinal Vi'dreya, 15 March 2019 - 09:41 PM.

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#8
Geir Hammand

Geir Hammand

    Darth Abaddon

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Location: Hyperspace in route to Zonmira

Objective: Strike the False Sith From Existence?

Equipment: NirwosWûzêansiKnights Obsidian Executor BootsObsidian-type Strike ArmorYrkaa Sidearm

Tags: Anyone that wishes to join

Post: 1

 

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 The void of space was quite different from what was soon to befall the Jen’ari strangled world of Zonmira. Soon, a violent dance would erupt over the planet as it was suffocated beneath the hands of the sniveling empire of falsehood. A prism of encapsulated color was sure to be aroused above the planet soon as masses of turret and cannon fire were sure to stand in stark contrast to the grim, darkness which open space offered, but it was web spun to tell the tale of the scuffle to exert an undying justice upon this place. The fragile peace hung fleetingly here would be torn asunder as it was upheaved in the magnificence of complete and utter war. For the ‘peace’ this world thought it held was nothing short of a lie. A shroud pulled over the eyes of those so easily manipulated to believe such whims were anything but fleeting. But this lie would be allowed to live on here no longer. This seat of false power that sought to stretch its unwavering tyranny out across the galaxy would be expunged. It was an eventuality that could not be undone.

 

Shrieking through the void of hyperspace, a single HWK-1000 Light Freighter, the Inichas, looked to join the greater armada of the Confederacy’s arms which reached out to snuff such weakness from the galaxy for weakness, and those that coddled its existence and allowed it to grow were the greatest threat against the galaxy itself. It was a slight that could not be allowed to continue, and even though the Sith Lord’s views did not fully align to the tenets upheld by the government he now served, it offered him the single greatest chance to strike against that of which he’d been called by the Force to do. Perhaps upon another age his guise would turn to something else, but for now it held true to snuffing this false empire from existence.

 

Soon, this world would be cleansed of the ilk under whose hand it suffered. Soon the putridness that plagued the galaxy now from one of its many arms will find its cure. Soon the galaxy would be allowed to smile once more, a momentary break from it’s anguished weaping.



#9
Allya Vi'Dreya

Allya Vi'Dreya

    Dauntless Adjudant

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Equipment: Beskar'garm, blasters, lightsaber, grenades

Location: Onboard her Scimitar - Entering Jen'ari space

Objective: Raid the Libraries

Tags: Jaeson Starchaser - Darth Novus Shakti Sweet

 

 

In the cockpit of her favorite Scimitar-2, Allya stared at the lines of hyperspace. How many times did she see this, and have the same thought, of a desire to explore this other realm they passed through?Dozens, she was sure. Once more, this ship brought her and all she loved to war. However, this time was different. Jerek Zenduu was here, to be sure, as was Micah , however, several others were onboard as well. Each of the teens tried to push away the nervousness, and to focus on the task they had been given. They were to invade the libraries on the world, and take as much of the knowledge and artifacts as they could get their hands on. In her hold, she carried many droids for back up, and a handful of slicer droids. She had every intention to send them at the main bank branch on the planet. Destabilize the economy, get some extra credits in her pocket to push into this new project she had dreamed up.

 

 

The girl pressed the intercom button. “We are reverting to real space in five minutes. Finish your preparations, and get up here, and get buckled in in case we arrive in fire.” She flicked the sensors over to passive, turned off the comm channels, dimmed internal lights, and placed a lot of extra things on standby, to stop the ship from having a large energy draw. This would help keep them from being spotted by enemy patrols. Especially as they exited hyperspace at the edges of the fleet and made a bee line for the surface.

 

Her eyes looked around, however, as she attempted to find Jerek. Once he was in view, her heart would calm down a bit, and the girl would practice Jedi meditation. Focus on the breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth, clear your mind of all other worries, and emotions. She relaxed into her chair. “Alright, reverting to real space, in three.......two......one....mark.” The girl pulled back on the hyperdrive throttle, and the ship pulled out of hyperspace, the lines shrunk back to dots. The group began to avoid an enemy fire, and ships, as well as their own, since they ran silent. She was a good pilot, not as good as Jerek, but in ships like this, she felt her skill outshone his own.


Edited by Allya Vi'Dreya, 16 March 2019 - 01:29 AM.

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#10
Voph

Voph

    High Councilor of Vylmira

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Location: Zonmira Orbit

Objective: Destroy all traces of the Mad Emperor's Empire

Equipment: In Signature

Tags: Any who wish to join

Post: 01

 

 

Voph stood aboard the bridge of the Vanguard, hands clasped behind his back. The ship was tearing through hyperspace, surrounded by the rest of the Covenant ships. They were on their way to war. And Voph would be lying if he said he was not writhing in anticipation. The chance to go to war with the old enemy. The last gasping remnants of Vitiate's Empire. Deep down, he was impressed that they survived this long. But then again, it was an Empire led by Vyrassu. Deep down Voph wondered how bad the standard had fallen if he was their emperor.

 

"Reverting to realspace in five. Four. Three. Two... Mark."

 

The ship lurched as it decelerated to realspace, flanked by five Archwing Destroyers, two to port, three to Starboard. Small, yet formidable. "All fighters, standby to launch on my mark. We're taking no prisoners today. Communications, open a system wide broadcast." Voph turned and sat down on the commander's chair, flexing his fingers in anticipation. He'd left his apprentice behind for this one. War was no place for a child. And more to the point...Well...he didn't want to be troubled with the "Do as I say, not as I do" talk. It was odd, though. He could not sense Vyrassu's presence anywhere in the system. It had been some time, to be sure. Ah, no matter. Emperors often had better things to do than defend their most valuable military stronghold.

 

"You're live, sir."

 

Voph turned his face towards the holoprojector, glaring with all the rage befitting an Elder Sith. "People of the Jen'ari Empire. This is Lord Voph of the Octarchy Covenant, Vassal of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Surrender, and you shall be shown mercy. Defect, and you shall be allowed to live. But know this: I will not suffer this Empire to live. The remnants of the Mad Emperor must be extinguished for the galaxy to know peace. And the one you call Emperor is no better. He is a weakling, and a coward. He thinks that he has conducted himself in secret. That his deeds are unknown to the galaxy. But he is no better than the Mad Emperor that sought to destroy the galaxy."

 

Voph leaned forward in his chair, his nearly white hair pulled back in a pony tail behind him, black cloth blindfold pulled taut over his eyes. The scar across his visage ugly, twisting and red. "And so I ask you, Vyrassu. Where were you when the Dread Wars raged? When our people died, wallowing in filth and fear? Where were you when the Revanites struck? Tearing us apart from within, turning brother against brother? Where were you when the Mad Emperor destroyed Ziost!? Where were you when Zakuul burned our homes and slaughtered our people!?"

 

Voph pushed himself to his feet, his rage visible to those around him, and echoing across the force like a clap of thunder. "And now you leave your people to die! Lost! Alone! Frightened! Abandoned. Nothing has changed, whelp. Nothing has changed. Look upon your mighty Empire, you Jen'ari. Look upon the one you call Emperor. And know that at his hands, you will face naught but ruin and destruction. Over. And over again. Vyrassu cares not for you. Nor for this Empire. He, like so many Sith before him, have forsaken his people for his own gain. Look upon your emperor. And know that you are nothing more to him than cattle."

 

Voph turned as the transmission ended, settling back in his chair. He had no intent of gracing the surface with his presence. He'd walked too many Sith worlds already. "All fighters, you are cleared to launch. Destroyers, form up at the bow of the Vanguard, prepare the cannons." He settled back into his chair as the fighters began to stream from the hanger below him. He would not suffer another Empire to live. Especially not this one. They had taken too much from him already. The Resurgent Sith Empire owed Voph a massive debt. And it was time to collect his dues...

 



#11
Srina Talon

Srina Talon

    Dread Queen

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Location: The Veil {Hyperspace} | Allies: The Confederacy | Enemies: The Jen'ari Empire | Tags: Scherezade deWinter, Cardinal Vi'dreya, + Anyone Else Cool Who Wants to Hang | Objective: Prepare for Combat

 

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The quiet Apprentice wondered, slowly, if she was losing the stomach for war. Combat sang in her blood like an eerie melody from on high but the actual prospect of going off to fight victimless battles was starting to wear on her soul. She felt older, so much so, that she wondered if she was coming down with some sort of affliction or malady. It was strange. Echani didn’t often take ill due to their genetic manipulation. Even still…She felt weakened. Exhausted.

 

She was tired of losing everything in order to win, tired of her friends and family turning to ash, and more than anything, tired of enemies that just wouldn’t stay gone.

 

What she wouldn’t give to lay down in her quarters on the Veil and sleep until the end of eternity.  

 

That wasn’t in the cards. Apparently, what was in the cards, was another rousing game of Cards Against the Confederacy. The silvery maiden stared into the back of Madalena’s [Scherezade deWinter] head with eyes that were cold enough to burn. Hadn’t she ordered the Knight to throw these damnable treasonous cards out of an airlock? Was this why had she been seeing them pop up all over Golbah City? Every café, from the Sprawl, to the Crown, seemed to have a box of these bright pink monstrosities in lingering in the sitting areas.

 

The Exarch opened her mouth, rolled a few words around her mouth for a moment, before snapping it shut. They had enough to worry about. They were all smiling. Happy. Srina wished she could emulate the sentiment but she was still preoccupied with the state of her homeworld. Eshan was dear to her. It was wounded, in shambles, and part of her wondered if Zonmira would soon be just as scarred.

 

For what it was worth the Dread Queen tempered herself, standing tall, in the blue and silver armor that Darth Tacitus had crafted for her. It had taken quite the beating on Eshan but her Master had managed to make repairs on Ryloth. So much so, that it barely seemed to show signs of use, let alone, wear and tear. Within the confines of such designs, she felt safe. Perhaps, it was because the person that made them, did so with care, and not malice. It was not for the destruction she could bring but for the protection, it would provide. “Knight Antares…”

 

Her voice would carry, as it always did, no matter how softly she spoke. Heads turned. The Dauntless and Knights that hadn’t traveled with the Helldivers seemed to snap to attention faster enough that there was a real risk in suffering a broken neck. Srina stepped forward, soundless, and came to stand directly behind the one that seemed to hell bent on defying her orders. “If you wished for a kiss—you only needed to ask. Why you pervade the need for such foolish games…I will never know.”

 

Ivory hair spilled over her shoulder as she bent at the waist to press an airy kiss to the top of the Sithlings head. Something that might have been a smile broke her frozen expression before it returned to the fathomless ocean she was known for. The Echani female straightened and then inclined her head to Cardinal Vi'dreya. Clearly, Madalena was having an effect on him. “Dominus.”

 

Soon enough she would return to the command center so that she could keep in touch with the variety of teams that may need to make reports. She was tempted to join the fight, but overall, she wished to bring all of her people home. If it meant that she was to take the position of a guardian and relay station the young Exarch would not complain.

 

Just once, despite the absurdity of it, she wished to escape without Confederate casualties.

 

Just once. 


Edited by Srina Talon, 16 March 2019 - 01:32 AM.

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#12
Jaeson Starchaser

Jaeson Starchaser
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Location: Along for the ride on Allya Vi'Dreya's Scimitar
Objective: I'm going down to the library...
 
 
Jae was sitting back, lounging really, in a chair on Allya's personal vessel. A fedora was lowered the brim covering his face as he relaxed getting moments of rest before the action began. He'd never been involved in an operation like this, normally the libraries he went to had been destroyed or otherwise abandoned for a thousand years or more. So why was he here? The answer to that question was as simple as it was dangerous; he was asked by a friend. As the ship approached the system Jaeson fiddled with his lightsaber twisting and turning it in his hand. The lightsaber was an elegant weapon, a weapon of the Jedi and the Sith, Jae preferred a blaster.
 
The ship lurched out of hyperspace and Jae pushed his hat up off his face with the hilt of his saber. Making a quick mental inventory and checking his equipment he prepared for the landing. Blaster, holstered and loaded. Lightsaber? He proffered the blade clipping it to his belt. A basic medkit and four laser inhibiting smoke grenades affixed to his belt rounded out his basic gear. Oh! Jae almost jumped out of his seat as he almost forgot the most important items. His haversack, and backpack, and plenty of containers for looting.... 


#13
Alkor Centaris

Alkor Centaris

    Ashes

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Location: Leaving the Rebellious Hawk, en route to Zonmira surface
Allies: Luna Terrik, Dauntless Commandos
Team: Helldivers
Equipment: Armor Lightsaber

Alkor sat with his head bowed, surrounded on all sides by Dauntless Commandos who he had never formally met before this mission, and who he might never see again. Success on the surface of Zonmira was all that mattered, and the only conversation between the Knight and his contingent of Commandos was given by the XO at briefing.

They decanted into realspace just outside of orbit, still hot as they streaked toward atmosphere. The carrier came into position, and the Dauntless took their positions aboard their assigned dropship. The mood was a constant blend of anxiety and excitement, which broke his concentration away from meditation. It was not an environment conducive to concentration.

The burns on his arms had healed only a small amount since Eshan, and that factored his near constant administration of the salve he received from the Sacred Lotus healers. The news reached some of the Confederacy's most skilled healers, and he received consultation several hours before they set out for Zonmira. It was very possible he would need enhancements to correct the damage that the Dark side had done to his body.

His red blood cells actively resisted clotting, his white blood cells had deteriorated to the point where they did almost nothing to fight infection. Flesh died off and necrosis festered where the burns had been the worst. There was considerable nerve damage. He had always known the price. He had always been willing to pay it.

Until now, when the debtor finally came calling.

His frustration irradiated the small dropship, permeating the team of Dauntless Commandos he had been assigned to. His hands were folded, and he rested the bridge of his nose against them. His elbows rested on his thighs, and he held his calm. The time was close that he would unleash his pain on their enemies. He had only to be patient.

When they launched, his eyes opened.

He felt it before them. A terrified world, aware of them but woefully unready. He felt the horrors of Eshan in his past and the atrocities that would unfold on Zonmira steady on the horizon. The Force gave him clarity, and his clarity spread to his allies. Such was the nature of a seasoned battlefield combatant strong in the ways of the great mystery- their presence bolstered the confidence and acumen of those they led to war.

Within moments, they were plummeting toward the volcanic world below. There was only the mission. There was nothing else.

Edited by Alkor Centaris, 16 March 2019 - 02:50 PM.

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#14
Shakti Sweet

Shakti Sweet

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Location: Aboard the ship of one Allya Vi'Dreya, entering Zonmia's airspace

Objective: Security Detail for the Looting Party

Enemies: The Jen'air Empire | Allies: The Confederacy of Independent Systems

Post: 1
Tags: Jerek Zenduu | Micah | Jaeson Starchaser | Darth Novus
 

 

 

There hadn't been a call for additional security for the small group of teens when the plans for the invasion of Zonmia had been disclosed to those who had been called upon by the Confederacy - but Ms. Sweet seemed a little shocked to hear that no one had just outright volunteered anyways. These children were going to be sent to this alien planet in the heart of the Jen'ari empire's space and for whatever reason, they hadn't been assigned a single person to keep an eye out for them... Sure, several people had blatantly laughed at her when she inquired after why that was, insisting that any Jenny that was foolish enough to come against the group was unlikely to make it out alive... But these were children! She'd basically taken it upon herself to ensure that the group made it to and from Zonmia safely - regardless of what anyone else had said about it. 

 

Talking her way onto the ship had been difficult, especially since she couldn't speak at all - but it seemed that despite being somewhat confused for her reasoning for being there, they were willing to let her tag along. She'd taken up a silent sentinel position near the cockpit, crouching against a wall and staying characteristically silent for the entirety of the journey into Jen'ari space. She perked up for the first time as Allya announced that they would be exiting lightspeed, glancing up from the floor and looking about at the horde of teenagers she'd found herself with. With any luck, they wouldn't encounter too much resistance for their small group - why anyone would suspect that they'd send this small cell to start looting she couldn't fathom.

Shakti slowly rose to her feet as she felt the ship lurch into space above Zonmi and begin bobbing and weeving any resistance they found, using one hand to hold onto the wall behind her as she turned and glancing out the cockpit windows from behind the two seated up there. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the planet - the brilliant red from all the volcanic activity making it glow in the looming darkness of space... It didn't exactly look inviting, but with some work this could be over quickly.


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#15
Darth Novus

Darth Novus

    The Returning One

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Location: Bedroom - Scimitar

Equipment: Lightsaber | Basic Tunic | Basic Trousers | Basic Boots

Objective: Read Fanfic

#Bookclub: Shakti SweetJaeson StarchaserAllya Vi'Dreya | Micah | Jerek Zenduu

 

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He blinked softly.

 

It felt strange, in many ways to be working alongside people again. He wasn't used to it, he had been alone since the fall of Mythos. He'd gotten used to being alone since he had been made a Sith Knight in the days of the One Sith. He had spent ages alone, refining his skills in Sith Alchemy before he had been thrown into the Utapu sinkhole. Even when he was brought back, he was alone. He had spent years trapped inside of a child body, alone with no-one else.

 

Now he had friends.

 

Friends was loosely used. In reality, Novus never had friends. He had people that either worked with him or against him or for him. None of those ever classed as friends, either a useful tool or a target. He had once wondered if he had friends in his past life, the life he couldn't remember, the life before the accident Mythos had rescued him from. He had tried hard to remember that life but it was like trying to get through a brick wall with a pair of tweezers. 

 

Impossible.

 

The familiar feel of a ship under him was comforting. While he was a fighter at heart, he had willingly agreed to join the library raid. Ancient Sith libraries were sure to contain ancient Sith books and scrolls and artifacts. All of those were sure to equate to power, more power. That was the one code he tried to live by, make sure everything that you did ended with you becoming more powerful than you had started. It wasn't worth doing something if there was no reward.

 

He had been a recluse for most of the journey. He didn't even know if anyone on the ship actually knew he was there. He had kept to himself, sat in a corner on his own. He had remained silent, he didn't remember saying a word for the entire journey. He had sat there, in silence, pondering. They were bound to come across something special in the libraries, something that would excite or interest him. He just didn't know what that something would be.

 

He blinked again. 

 

They were exiting hyperspace.

 

It was showtime.


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#16
Keva

Keva

    Totally not Sev'rance Tann

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Location: Munificent-class Frigate, K'aszuso K'ticah

Enemies: TJE

Allies: CIS

Tags: -

 

The call to war had been sounded, and Keva answered. Such was the duty of the soldier, her frigate flying through the streaking blue of Hyperspace, within the bowls of the vessels in a slumber her droid army sat: ready to be activated at a moments notice and prepare the Iron March. The world would be crushed under the stamp of millions of metal feet.

 

And that fact brought the slightest smile to her face, a dark solace taken in the inevitably of the violence that would happen today.

 

Lounging in her command chair, the Chiss observed the bridge around her as it buzzed with activity: so incredibly disappointing the Confederacy had become reliant on droids, even it’s warships were manned by droids.

 

“We’ll be arriving from hyperspace soon, Marshal.”

One of the nasally voices of the B1s manning the controls pierced her deep thought, thankfully for something actually meaningful this time. Good. The carnage would begin soon, without saying a word the Chiss rose from her seat. Making her way off to the landing craft that waited within the depths of her warship. Boots clicked against the cold metal floor and a cape softly flew behind her as she made her march down to the decks.

 

The carnage was coming, and she needed to be totally and utterly prepared for it.

 

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#17
Cay-Yo

Cay-Yo

    Certified Newbie, CEO Big Meds

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Location: Vanguard Hangar

Objective: Establish Space Superiority

Allies: The Confederacy of Independent Systems, Voph

Enemies: The Jen'ari Empire

Ship: Moonbeam (See Signature Link)

 

Cay-Yo had no love for the Jen'ari, they had abandoned him on Copero to fight the Confederacy by himself despite repeated requests for aid. He doubted that he would ever cross paths with those who betrayed them, as elusive as they seemed to be, but here he was "I'll show them! Cay-Yo will get the last laugh." he nodded to himself defiantly as he grabbed the joysticks that controlled the Moonbeam. The small interceptor's engines powered up and the interior of the ship illuminated dimly "Moonbeam ready." he reported to the hangar's flight control as the entire hangar waited for the order from the bridge.

 

Cay-Yo could not hear much of the speech from inside his starfighter but he had heard enough to know that this was personal for more than a few of the Confederate commanders. Once the order was given the hangar, which was roaring with the sounds of multitudes of starfighter engines, began to clear swiftly. Cay-Yo had been told the Moonbeam would be the last to launch due to the irregular size it posed a risk to the other pilots "Going!" the Patitite declared triumphantly as he was given the green-light.

 

Now that he was free to fly around the formation among the other starfighters he noticed a distinct lack of intercepting fighter formations making their way towards them. Perhaps this would change "Where are they? I don't see anything!" he complained in disappointment.



#18
Luna Terrik

Luna Terrik

    The Fallen Angel

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Time: 1010 Hours

Location: Hyperspacing into Zonmira on the Rebellious Hawk

Tags: (Allya Vi'Dreya, @Sarge, Damsy Callat, Pei Ven, Lucius Crane, Symara Tarriq, Zavek Ambrose, Ethan Winters, Lis'Ra Fennick, Rato Hus ) – The Dauntless Crew + Anyone else attacking objective 2

Team: Helldivers

Equipment: Dauntless Armor,  SC4 RepeaterTactical Recon Handguns (2)

 

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It was an interesting feeling, to be brought out of hyperspace while not being able to see it. You can feel your stomach suddenly lurching as the speed suddenly changes, but without the sight of the blue swirling lights being suddenly cut away and replaced with white twinkling stars, the feeling of sudden stop left everyone in the shuttle taking a quick step forward to steady themselves. But even without the visual confirmation, everyone knew what had just occurred, and what was to happen now.

 

The CIS had arrived at Zonmira, and they had come to burn it all to the ground.

 

As soon as the Rebellious Hawk arrived in the system, just as the Dauntless had planned earlier, the sounds of the blast door bays to the hanger could be heard opening, and the shuttle doors of the chariots of victory that the Dauntless road on began to close. It didn’t take long for the blast doors to open, and the shuttle doors to close, sealing the commandos in a dark prison for a moment, before an interior red light flickered on.

 

Only a moment later, the shuttles within the belly of the Rebellious Hawk began to lift off, shooting out of the hanger like blaster bolts fired out of a rifle. Luna’s shuttle was in the lead, at least that was how it was planned, and she could feel the ship beginning to bank to the right, creating a large circle for the ensuing shuttles to follow as they all poured out of the hanger. During this time, as Luna Terrik, commander of the invading Dauntless forces stood and held tightly to a grip coming from the ceiling of the shuttle, she began to send out a command comm to every attacking squad in the CIS forces for this invasion.

 

“This is commander Terrik. The Veil has arrived in the system with us, and we are all systems go. Begin your attack on the capital city of Zonmira city. Burn it to the ground, protect your brothers and sisters and combat, and come back alive. Lets not bury people on this kriff forsaken rock.”

Looking to the pilot cabin of the shuttle, she nodded silently as he looked back to get her confirmation. With that silent affirmative shared between them, the ship stopped it’s circular path to turn directly toward the planet, on a crash course with the capital city. This change of direction was punctuated by the shaking and rumbling of the craft as it plunged it’s way through the atmosphere.

 

The commander’s head turned to those that shared the shuttle cabin with her, giving them all nods as they held on for dear life as the atmosphere was shoved aside by their craft, which eventually gave way to shaking from the explosions of flax near their ship. It was this moment that Luna hoped desperately that they had given enough time for the fighters to catch up and cover their decent, otherwise they’d be sitting ducks with little to no cover.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to sit and linger on this thought, as the redhead slowly made her way to the center of the shuttle, pulling a holocom off her belt. Keying in a few coordinates, a bridge, surrounded by powerful enemy forces, flashed up in that hologram blue and spun slowly around.

 

The Dauntless commnados riding their squad leader huddled around as she cleared her throat and began to speak. “Alright, as you know, this is our target. The bridge connects the military HQ and the rest of the island. We are going to land, control the bridge while our engineers rig it with explosives, then sever that connection the enemy has with it’s reinforcements. From there, we will gather our forces and hit the main military HQ building. That should deal a decisive enough blow that all the other CIS members on the ground can clean up the rest. Are we understood?”

 

The nods, quick yesma’ams and affirmations that followed had Luna nodding and putting the recorder away. Soon the shuttle would be over the military HQ island, and from there, they would move onto their objective. They would complete it to the absolute best of their abilities, as Dauntless always did.

 

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#19
Darth Timorem

Darth Timorem
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Wearing: Fire Lord's BulwarkTalisman of the Demon

 

 

 

Wielding:  Dual SaberSingle Saber

 

 

 

 

Theme: Fight Like Hell

 

 

 

Location: Citadel

 

 

 

Objective: Havoc Heathens IA0dVSk.gif

 

 

 

Tags: N/A

 

 

 

Allies: CIS

 

 

Enemies: Jen'ari

 

 

 

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Timorem watched, as hell broke loose on the planet. It was the dream of every sith, yet one he had not seen fulfilled to such an extent since the days of Vitiate's Empire. The weak fool, Vitiate was. He claimed to be immortal, yet he'd done it better, he'd seen many other sith do immortality better. He stood, clutching his sabers in each hand, he focused his attention across the small bridge that acted as an emergency entrance to the Citadel. He watched as the hordes of Jen'ari Marauders and the Sorcerers that called themselves the Dusuah. It took but a moment for him to sense their power. They were weak compared to what he had faced back in his time.

 

He ignited his sabers, and started walking. The Sith Marauders started charging him down as he walked closer. The first one leapt at him, and his dual saber went out, as he raised his hand, and electrocuted the Marauder, throwing him off the bridge, into the boiling lava. He then blocked the next Marauder's downward stroke with his single blade, and sliced him in half with his dual saber. The next in line to be slaughtered pushed his comrade's corpse into the lava himself, and slashed at Timorem, which was met with a backhand, that hit him so hard, he was knocked onto the railing of the bridge. His mask had been smashed by the power and strength of the Mandalorian Iron. He then reached up to his throat, as Timorem kept fighting, not even needing to raise his hand to choke the man. 

 

He pushed his lightsabers into an X, and caught a blade, then pulled the dual saber away, and pushed the blade to the right with his single saber, knocking it into the railing. He then gave a swift kick to the man, knocking him back and off his feet. He then started slashing and stabbing the rest of the Marauders. It was clear that the Marauders had underestimated him if they thought they could take him with one vs one's. This became clear to them, as the ranks near the back turned and ran, two stood by the bridge's connections to the citadel.

 

His eyes glowed red behind his helmet, and he blocked a few strikes by one of the more angry marauders, then stabbed him in the gut, and back handed him to the side, over the railing. It was then that the two marauders at the end of the bridge brought their sabers down on the ties that kept the bridge up, and two sorcerers broke the bridge off at the other end. And the bridge fell, Timorem tried to force leap to the top, dodging bodies, but one hit him, and knocked him flailing down into the lava. His body hit the lava, sinking slowly. He'd managed to clip his sabers onto the armour, and started walking to the shore. He pulled himself out of the lava, as it drooled down off of him. He then reached out, his hand grabbing a volcanic rock, big enough to hold him, and brought it, resting on the lava. He stepped onto the rock, and then manipulated the lava with the force, shooting him up like a geyser. He then leapt off the rock, grabbing his sabers, and held them to his sides. He landed on the platform of the Citadel, in between the marauders who had cut it off, and stabbed them through their throats with his sabers. 

 

He then put his sabers back on his belt, as their crimson blades vanished. He then watched as a number of the Sorcerers raised themselves up, calling small lightning storms over him, trying to strike him with lightning. He raised his hand, absorbing the lightning, and raised his other hand at the sorcerers, their own power shooting back at them. When the storm ended, he relented his use of Tutaminis, and raised himself up, lightning flying from his upward facing palms, into a deadly storm cloud above, as lightning then travelled from the soles of his feet into the ground. His eyes glowed purple, as a storm was called down on the sorcerers, striking them down. Lightning electrified the ground around him, preventing marauders from getting close.

 

He dropped down moments later, his channelling had stopped, but the storm continued. A freak of nature. He ignited his sabers again, and started deflecting shots fired by the Imperial Troopers, sending them flying back at them. He then marched on. 


Edited by Darth Timorem, 20 March 2019 - 08:37 AM.

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"The Dark Side is an illness no true Sith would wish to be cured of." - Darth Plagueis

"Everything of significance is the result of Conquest" - Darth Sidious 


#20
Lirka Ka

Lirka Ka

    The mean Elf-lady

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Location: Landing

Tags: None, running solo

Allies: CIS

Enemies: TJE

 

The jovial times shared between the ancient warriors felt short-lived, while they joked and joshed the Veil had burst from hyperspace above the pitiful planet that would become the Sephis’ newest killing ground, the bodies would be high and the streets would run crimson with gore. A reminder to any fledgling Empire that wished to infect the Galaxy with their presence.

 

But Lirka took no pleasure in this, not like she usually did: for she still saw the fires of Copero, heard it even. The sounds of the coldest of efficiency that reaped a bounty of combatants and civilians all the same...to some extent she wondered how the world faired now. How deep did it’s scars run? As deep as the ones the fighting had given her? Just as Copero reaped it’s bounty of lives, it had taken much of her flesh. A skeletal cybernetic arm replaced the one lost to the fire that had engulfed her battlefield, and after so much of her face had been damaged by the Tank’s blast as well: and it claimed her eye, a cybernetic that burned crimson. A crimson that some would say matched her bloody acts on that world: a butcher, she was. And it gave her little pride.

 

She did not let the thoughts dwell, and when the klaxons blared to signal the time to drop she rose: her face stone cold, as it always was before battles like these. She felt little when fighting the Jen’ari, maybe a burning conviction to see a Force Cult eradicated but little else. They made fine training dummies, but nothing else there. It was mindless fighting, to reap the bounty of blood and gore that was necessary for victory to be achieved and that was all.

 

The quartet of warriors armed themselves, Lirka placing her helmet on with a hiss and a click as it locked. The Honor Guard doing the same, grabbing their Glaives before heading down to the decks to find their respective pods: it had been deemed more suitable once again to spread the bladesmanship of the warriors throughout the invasion force, hacking through whatever walls of bodies the Imperials would throw at the Confederacy to try and stop the advance of their armies. As it had been on bloody Copero.

 

With either the click or stomp of metal against the floors of the Veil, the Sephi made their way down to the loading decks. Few words were shared between them, save for the smallest of exchanges between Lirka and her head Honor Guard, Ankyre.

 

The warrior, in his crimson armor, had been with Lirka since she was a mere child. And was the one who had taught her the blade, in essence he created the savage killing machine that was going to be unleashed upon the Jen’ari and any who dared associate with them once again.

 

“Kyr celol, Tia Cel.”

 

Good hunting. The humor in it would be lost to the uninitiated, his voice was as cold and unflinching as Lirka’s own: there was no good hunting to be had on this rock, only fools trying to build an Empire once again. And with a turn he embarked into his own Droch Pod, the doors closing with a hiss. And maybe somewhere inside of herself, Lirka wondered if they’d ever see each-other again.

 

And soon the warriors all departed, split up and sent into their own pods. Lirka sat herself down into the dark thing, listening to the all too familiar hiss of the closing doors and the preparations to drop.

 

And then once more, hell rained.

 

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The rumbling of the pod had grown tiresome, Lirka sat motionless and unflinching as the sounds of battle roared outside, a pod that had been flying next to them sending a thunderous roar and making her own vessel shake violently as it was torn to little more than flaming rubble and falling corpses. Or whatever was left of the occupants. Not a flinch, this was standard fare for her now. Not quite as exhilarating as merely jumping down from Low-Orbit in her powersuit, the act of falling from orbit in a Droch just didn’t excite her anymore, and the prospect of the “chaos” down below was all the more boring.

 

And with a thunderous crash and shake the blades of the Droch implanted itself onto the world below, and the doors slid open once again: the immobile statue of a woman launched out like a bullet: her Klaive clutched in her cybernetic hand as the carnage began. Already fortifications in place by the Jen’ari troopers had been demolished by the landing of the Confederacy’s forces. The soldiers who had survived fared no better, the blur of Lirka’s glowing blade made short work of the dazed survivors: heads rolled, and armor helped little against the sheer ferocity expressed in the hulking monster.

 

That’s all Lirka was when the fighting began, a monster. Comparable to one of the Force Cult’s Sithspawn, or a rampaging Rancor on the hunt for food: it was why she had fallen so easily into the orders of “destroy”. Why she stood on the pile of fallen corpses, the corpses whose only sin was to have been on the Jen’ari’s Copero. And the rage made her only fight harder, the Dark Side coursed through her veins in this moment. Her emotions were raw, untamed things, she had become a vessel of pure slaughter in these moments.

 

The Confederacy’s Attack Dog.

 

With the Dark Side flowing through her, Lirka roared out a battle cry for all those Confederates that had landed with her: and it would be a fool's errand not to listen to the Sephi when her battle frenzy had decided it would rear it’s true and ugly head.

 

“LEAVE NOTHING STANDING!”

 

The cry echoed, the Dark Side channeled through it. And so did the carnage she assumed to come had indeed decided to show itself, the bounding beast of a warrior threw itself against any warriors too foolish to not get out of it’s way: one of the force cultists, a foolish boy had decided he would stand and slay the monster to feel the glory it would reap. His crimson blade held high, it was a hopeless endeavour. The songsteel Klaive knocked his blade aside, flung it out of his hands with the sheer force it held behind it it. And with the monster’s free hand it grabbed the boy by his face, with it’s mighty bulk thrown behind it, the cultists was sent crashing down into the street with the sickly crack of shattering bone.

And so did it’s implacable march continue, the crushed boy left among the growing stream of corpses that follow that things assault.

 

She was lost to battle frenzy. Consumed in the fires of Copero, of the guilt of wanton slaughter. And the mocking laughter of ghosts long dead.

 

There was no good hunting here.

 

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Lirka’s slaughter continued on, little could stop the rampaging beast. The Dark Side had truly gotten it’s talons around the woman: the Sephi had been replaced with a monster.

For a time at least.

 

For soon she was violently pulled from her frenzy, a stabbing pain burst within her soul. She could feel a crushing pain, as though apart of herself was lost. She could feel the quartet growing smaller, another soul lost.

 

Blades, crimson as the blood that was not shed claimed the life of a Guard. Her form, lithe and swift, was broken: fallen to her knees the blades slashed and the Guard’s head rolled from her neck. Her assaulting force all but obliterated...artisan gear that had served for centuries lost in the fires of battle.

 

Lirka staggered ever so slightly, a blaster bolt pinging into her armor as a reprimand for her foolish action. Rage soon began to be replaced by a righteous sorrow, a violent sorrow. Vengeance would be reaped. Vengeance needed to be had!

 

And she saw the force to extract her vengeance upon, one of the Jen’ari Marauders, one of the people who had claimed the life of her sworn Honor Guard. With a bestial fury harnessed, the warrior woman charged forward: bashing aside two of the Imperial troopers as if they were mere toys. Her Klaive slashing out in a brutal slash, to be met with the fiery crack of the lightsabers connecting to the plasma filament that made the Klaive burn. Burn like all that had be reduced to ash under the many wrathful marches the Sephi had inflicted during her many years of life.

 

And so did the two warriors fight, blades clashing together in a fiery exchange. Sparks flew from both weapons, and as time progressed the Marauder launched himself into the air, landing onto the top of a nearby building. To little shock Lirka followed suit, the massive creature launching herself into the air with little trouble. Her Klaive slashing downwards with her Klaive the weapon easily sliced through the duracrete of the structure, but alas, did not slice the marauder into two fine bits.

 

Instead the flashing duel continued, Lirka’s rage only growing as the Cultist refused to die. With a stylized twirl the blades found themselves in a lock, sparks flying and heat radiating as the two pushed against each-other to try and find the weakness within the others defense.

 

And then she was struck, another feeling of her soul being torn apart.

 

One of the last of the guards stood, tall and proud, his Glaive swinging in twirling arcs that left a trail of emerald within the air: deflecting whatever blaster bolts he could...but he had been surrounded. And the unrelenting horde continued, a hundred pin pricks, a thousand pin pricks, slowly slicing into the crimson armor they wore. And soon, as dozens of bolts collided with his form. He fell, crying out as a bolt finally made it’s way into his shoulder. His Glaive swung one more time before another bolt connected, and another, and another, and another. And soon, he fell. His Glaive crackling one last time before it went silent.

 

Staggered, an opening was finally given for the Sith. And his blade connected, slashing through Lirka’s armor and part of her stomach. Roaring out in pain, she let out a proper stagger. Grasping the Sith in one of her mighty hands before the entire building shook: an explosion rocking the entire thing before they both fell down into the fires of battle below.

 

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Everything hurt. Once again, Lirka opened her eyes to fire. Her assault force decimated, and forced to divert the Sephi shakily rose, coughing violently as she felt the bitter metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Staggering her way forward, using her Klaive as a walking stick, she tried to continue onwards. She was the unrelenting force. The unstoppable wave. The Confederacy’s instrument of total annihilation!

 

Right?...

 

With a searing pain filling her entire left side Lirka fell, finding herself fallen once again. Dragging herself along the broken remains of the street, ignoring the corpses that lined the burning remains of the strike. Eventually the woman sat herself down, her back pressed against what remained of her former battlefield. Her HUD flickered...her helmet was dying. With another snap the broken helmet was pulled from her head by her cybernetic arm. Throwing the thing aside Lirka looked out to the sky...she was dying. She could feel it. The pain roared within her once again, was this how it would end? On some meaningless Jen’ari rock?...

 

Without the strength to move, Lirka sat among the dead. Left with little more than her own recollections of her life...her life as little more than a tool. It was a crushing thing, for a dying woman to think about. And it shattered what little remained of Lirka’s heart…

 

Though maybe some hoped exist, for crimson plate showed itself in her vision: Ankyre. He had survived...unlike the others.  But his survival filled the former Princess with some hope in that cold dead heart.

 

He was not a dumb man, and he was quick to move to the fallen woman. Offering out a hand, his own armor battered and beaten...just like it had been when the Guards had reunited with the heir they had sworn their lives too.

 

“Tia Cel, can you stand?”
 

Even his cold demeanor could not hide his worry. Even as his armored face showed no emotion, he had watched this woman grow for so much of his life: sworn himself to her survival...sworn himself to the throne.

 

Lirka clasped his hand, and what seemed like effortlessly pulled him down. She didn’t want to strain her voice anymore, with his armored head close to her bloody and battered face the Sephi weakly spoke.

 

“Ankyre...byrdi shasos os Thustra. I’m done for-”
 

She was interrupted by another coughing fit, blood splattering from her mouth.

 

“I, have failed our people once again...but Ankyre, byrdi shasos os Thustra. Promise me this.:”

 

She heaved the words out, drawing what little strength remained in her once mighty form to speak.

 

“Promise me you will be there, when Thustra is reclaimed...when the Mandalorian paerylaes are removed from fair Thustra...succeed where I have failed byrdi shasos os Thustra: see, our planet restored.”

 

A violent coughing fit followed, and Lirka yanked the ancient man in closer. What followed was her quiet will, in the language of the Sephi. Broken and hushed under the roaring sounds of Battle, promises were proposed, declarations made, plans prepared so briefly as the life drained from her wound. And soon, she let go on his gauntlet. Letting out a weak cough.

 

Pulling himself back to his feet, Ankyre grabbed his Glaive. Standing as tall and as proud as he did when he swore his oath to the throne of Thustra, the true throne. He would not waver...even as he watched the Queen die. The true Queen. The true ruler of Thustra. No, he did not waver.

 

“I promise. Ai maes ol tia shadi os shoraer mar shi therolaer, Tia Cel.”

 

And so, another oath was sworn. An oath sworn to a dying Queen. Lirka merely smiled, a proper smile...something she hadn’t done in so long. And so she looked to the sky, watching the explosions of flame and color as the world around them was broken under the Confederacy’s might…

 

It was….such...beautiful….art……..

 

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