Public A Sword-Forged Anew | Raid on Kaas City | Open to All

[Ryv]

A SWORD-FORGED ANEW

Prequels
Three Letters | A Monument to Your Sins | Three Virtues | The Hirata Reformation

“I had hoped our sacrifice would buy them more time.

Following Darth Solipsis ' defeat on Tython, the Brotherhood of the Maw was soon defeated, and the temptation of peace was promised anew. And within that deception, the darkness gathered its strength. The Devotees of Bogan took up their foul sorcery, drawing on powers birthed from the vilest of emotions, and they dragged the accursed Dark Lord back from the grave.

The New Jedi Order stands ready to face him–the final bulwark between Solipsis and Coruscant. For in the hands of a hero, a Shield is a great boon. But Solipsis was only one of many threats.

Darth Empyrean and his Dark Council have reclaimed the Stygian Caldera, the ancestral homes of their malignant Order. In the aftermath of the most recent battle, Darth Carnifex has bombarded the planet of Tion from orbit, laying waste to all life–forever wounding Tydeus of Tion .

Time and time again, the Sith reveal the truth of their wretched existence and why it must come to a bloody end.

So we take up our blades once more, for in the hands of a killer, the Sword is the only means to peace.”

​

The vibrant whites and blues of hyperspace flashed around a small fleet of HEAVILY MODIFIED Davro-class light freighters as they skipped from one pocket of space to another. Bernard stood beside Nova Dainlei within the cockpit of the lead ship. Though neither Jedi spoke, both bore wildly different expressions. The Arkanian’s features were a mask of perfect serenity, whereas the boy’s features twisted and shifted every few seconds.

Behind them, Inosuke abruptly stood from his own meditation. The Jedi Master turned to his apprentice, Kyric, and nodded curtly. The kiffar pushed a tiny green button atop the ship’s navi-computer. The holoprojector whirred to life, capturing the likeness of Inosuke Ashina before projecting it to the three other freighters positioned around them.

“We exit hyperspace in thirty seconds. Be prepared.”

The hologram died away immediately after the warning.

Back on the lead ship, Kyric shifted focus from Inosuke to Nova. “What are they doing exactly, Master?”

“A technique known as Instinctive Astrogation. Young Dainlei’s mastery over the ability allows our forces to jump from point to point through hyperspace.”

“That’s incredible,” the kiffar murmured.

“He has not begun the difficult part,” Inosuke said flatly.

Bernard’s hands settled on Nova’s shoulder at that moment. The older Jedi’s serenity became something tangible as Kyric watched a momentary break in Nova’s concentration immediately reinstilled by the former Sentinel of Harmony. Further ahead, Kyric could see the infinite span of hyperspace breaking away to reveal a dark-gray cloud covering that stretched from one end of the sky to the other.

“Sheesh,” Kyric began in awe. “He put us in the atmosphere from hyperspace?” He watched Nova’s shoulder slump from what the kiffar assumed to be exhaustion.

Red lights flashed throughout the four freighters as they pierced through the uppermost layer of clouds. The ships diverted power from their sensors and weapons systems to the Gimmellian Stealth Devices used to cover their approach. All four vessels stalked through the mists like great predators, their metallic hulls camouflaged by the endless shades of gray wrapped around them.

Together the ships burst from the cloud covering over Kaas City–to deliver death upon their most hated enemy.

______________________________________________________________________________________________
The Lightsworn
Inosuke Ashina | Bernard | Kyric | Henna Ashina | Stennis Fel | Nova Dainlei
Tydeus of Tion | Rik Perris | Fallon Draellix-Kobitana | Kornon | Alaric
Shinzou Ashina | Kinoan Amalasuntha L'lerim | Kaleleon | Sera Rosh | Tyrus Vastor
______________________________________________________________________________________________​

Spoiler

This thread is meant to be an in-universe answer to the atrocities committed at Tion by the Kainate and their Dark Lord! Ideally, we'll do a little PVP, maybe cook up some future narratives from here, and have a grand old time with no real stakes! The Lightsworn are entering this with a small strike team meant to do some damage, shock and awe, style. We're not about to capture and hold Kaas City!

Darth Empyrean ... Unless...?

 

[Alaric]

Since we'd left Atrisia I'd had a pit in my stomach that churned. Every hap-hazard hyperspace jump stirred me, each step closer to Tion stoked the burning question of identity that plagued me so. What was I doing? Was I taking up a righteous cause like my father? Or was I following Jedi blinded by the Light? Was that even a possibility, when our light shined brightest as the day darkened beyond hope?

I wasn't aboard the ship by choice, but for duty, perhaps for fate. I couldn't say providence was delivering me to conflict, but I could believe that providence would bring us home alive. A prayer for the people of Tion and for the brave Jedi of the Lightsworn was all I feared I could give. I was no swordsman like Inosuke Ashina , nor a wise leader like Henna Ashina . They, and most of their followers, had just renounced the New Jedi Order. My entire life as a Jedi thus far had been away from the Order as an independent, intermittently with the Ashlan Church, but always transient.

To me, the Jedi Code had never needed an organization to back it. It needed only the belief of good-hearted people. The hearts of those who had stolen Tython, and who had ground Tion under heel, were black as sin. That was enough to at least point me in the same direction as the Lightsworn.

Tion was a world familiar to me. It made me sick to think that everything I'd ever done in helping people on Tion was undone in the blink of a cruel eye. The feeling worsened at the thought that many worlds of the Empire's far reaches, worlds I had spent years spreading the word of peace, were poised to fall in the same disgusting, genocidal manner. That was why I had agreed to travel to Atrisia, leaving the outer rim for the first time in my life. It was of course why I had returned with the strike force.

Being along for the ride felt strange, considering I knew exactly where the wave we rode was about to crash, but I wasn't alone. My family had seen the righteousness in the Hirata Reformation the same as I had, and for better or for worse, we were in this together.

It was Heinrich Faust , who I called Uncle for he was such a good friend to my folks, that led our team. To my one side was my sister, Amalasuntha L'lerim , the Eldest Daughter of Ession. I may have grown up as the voice of reason in my family, but she was our strength. I was not half the warrior my parents had wished me to be, but she was.

On my other side, the young padawan Fallon Draellix-Kobitana . It concerned me that the little girl had been allowed to accompany us on the mission, but her tenacity was frightening. I daresay no one could have stopped the child from coming. Thus it had become the case that I pledged I would see her safety, and the safety of all the Jedi laying down their lives to turn to the tide of the darkness, no matter how futile it might have looked to those outside of the covenant forged on Atrisia.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Mors Mon had returned to Dromund Kaas for resupply and refitting - not that it required it, but after conquering two systems and a dozen worlds between them, it bode well to replenish it. There was many more wars to be fought before his great chariot could return to test the Galactic Alliance from the South - so the less attrition he faced now, the better it would be later. It hung in orbit, idling like a corpse as its systems ran cold and ships created great trails in the sky as they transitioned immense amounts of cargo to its unholy frame.​

​

The Emperor Empyrean sat upon one of his various obsidian thrones, engraved with enchantments that made 'living' easier. It kept the pain of death at bay, and let him enjoy himself in the most loose definition of the word. It kept him sane, these idle moments of fancy, where he could simply relax as much as his dead body was able to do. He missed his life as a living being, to feel and touch and taste, he missed the breath he once took in a cold morning - or the very sensation of cold at all. Now all he felt was pain - and anger, eternal and righteous.​

​

It was in these moments of pseudo relaxation that his attention became stirred - the sensation foreign to this world, like white specs of paint on a black canvas. They stood out, harsh and contrasted to the suffering this world was under. Hope, corrupted as it was, descended on this world for bloodshed - he could sense it in their emotions, thick and heavy even from the distance he was at. They came to kill, they came for revenge, they came for the lives that had stolen from Tion.​

​

It forced the ever so slight smile on the Corpse's face. It never looked like joy, more the bearing of teeth from a wolf, but the Emperor shakily stood from his make shift throne and turned in the direction they descended - even through the wall, he could tell where they were, where they were going. He had hoped for bloodshed on Dromund Kaas - but he hadn't expected it to be so soon, not by vigilantes or a strike team, but by the combined force of the Mandalorians and their Galactic Alliance brethren.​

​

This only accelerated his plans, played exactly into his machinations. It seemed the decimation of Tion had worked all the better for it, surpassing even his own expectations. His gaze watched them as they neared the world's surface - but for good measure, he let his own presence become known across the world.​

​

As the Jedi breached the clouds, as they neared the world's surface, they would feel him. Darth Empyrean was not hidden among the skyscrapers, but a lighthouse in the savage waters. If they wanted to fight, to kill, they had found one of their many targets already - by his own design.​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Úlfs Reiði
ALLIES: Darth Empyrean
ENEMIES: OPEN

​

Every decision had a consequence, Gerwald was not foolish enough to think otherwise. Life and experience had taught him this with every choice he made. No one was surprised the actions of Darth Carnifex would draw the ire of some, and in this instance it would expose the extremist Jedi which the New Jedi Order could not control. They were like a rabid dog, wild and contagious. As with any diseased animal there was only one solution.

They must be put down.

He was Empyrean’s Wrath. His oath to the Emperor had been a simple one made while the Dead God himself still maneuvered about the political minefield which made up the Sith Triumvirate he strategically gained control of. Carnifex came to heel while Ophidia had not. In the end she paid for her usurpations with her life. If this was how the Sith dealt with their own kind, how much more their enemy.

Úlfs Reiði paled in comparison to the behemoth that was the Mors Mon. It was a new ship in a new line of Star Destroyers the Wolf had commissioned for the Sith. His bid for the Dark Council came with a demonstration that he could provide for the war machine in ways no one else vying for a seat could. Gerwald Lechner had access to the best technology the Confederacy of Independent Systems had ever produced. They had been more technologically advanced than the Sith then, and such assets would be a boon to them now.

Kaas City provided everything the crew would need by way of supplies and much needed rest and recuperation after a hard fought battle. The Siege of Tion had been a successful campaign, one which had ended with a terrifying display of Kainite power. It had also become a beacon, illuminating the threat which the Sith were.

Gerwald looked to the skies as he felt something from Darth Empyrean . They shared no real bond in any true sense. It was simply the depth of the Dead God’s power. The Dread Wolf had learned to anticipate the subtle commands which came from his sovereign, but this had not been subtle. Dromund Kaas was under attack. Payback was the most likely motivation for the counter, but this was not Empire of the Lost.

The Wolf stood with Darth Empyrean, ready for whatever was coming their way. While he fully expected combat to take them both in separate directions, it would be the first time the two would be seen side by side on the field of battle. While Empyrean’s stature was frightening enough, the two of them standing together would make the Netherworld itself tremble in fear.

The Jedi were rushing toward their demise.

 

[Kornon]

Henna Ashina | Kaleleon Kinoan | en route to Darth Empyrean | Open to jumpings
​

The cold wind whipped at the Jedi's robes as their stealth-freighters descended upon the world. As though in anticipation of their arrival, Kaas City had brought a terrible rain, dark clouds gathered all about, and the chill precipitating their coming. Kornon withheld his judgement on these omens. For such a dark day, the light he was surrounded by seemed almost blinding.

On the lowered ramp of the freighter he stood next to Master Henna Ashina; even with her name, she herself seemed to carry a significant weight amongst the Lightsworn. Her presence had an edge to it, a blade honed for moments like these, even if she had once been forged as a different sort. But he knew she could be trusted -- and together with the Lightsworn, they could tear down the Sith.

Following them were the younger Jedi -- the seemingly ever-padawan Kaleleon, and the Imperial Knight Kinoan, now sworn to the Light like the rest. Then there were their contingent of other Jedi; with Kornon, five guardians of Barab, blades soon white-hot with barab ore crystals. This would be their first true battle, but he had prepared them well. Their determination met the rest.

"Look at this wretched place," he murmured, sissing with discomfort. "Ever have our enemies had their claws in this place. These ones must loosen the Sith's grip."

Distantly, he felt that grand, death-like presence, doubtless one of those Sith'ari claimants. Another plague on this galaxy to be cured.

"Or perhaps, these ones break their wrist," he looked to Ashina. They descended far enough -- he unclipped his saber, raised it to the sky, and ignited it, blue blade steaming in the rain. "Tear down their idols! Slay their champions! Nowhere in the galaxy is safe for the Sith!

"For Light and Life!" The Jedi Master leapt from the ship, shattering the earth on his landing, a flash of light from the heavens.

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

A SWORD-FORGED ANEW
HIGH LORD OF THE JEDI
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
[KIRISUTE GOMEN 将軍]

Lighting convulsed from a low cloud, smiting the starboard edge of the stealth ship's deflectors. Briefly, the ship's silhouette cascaded against the stormfront. Regulator coils fired with an audible pulse, dispersing the electricity into the atmosphere and allowing the vessel to wane into imperceptibility. Ingressing Kaas City limits, repulsors droned as the light freighter began shedding altitude like a hailstone. Emergency chimes resonated from the cockpit to the loading aisle where the Jedi waited. A light flashed from red to green above a falling ramp, indicating their target altitude. For bodies descended from the cloaked ship at the apex of its low pass between skyscrapers, heralding the dive of several pods behind them.

The Force tempered their landings onto the Kaasian streets. Strike Team Karis had only one objective; Do damage. Bystanders fled at the behest of the snap-hiss of their blades and the violent landings of the Imperial Knight retainers who came in pods. In a matter of moments, the central street of Kaas City became a small-scale warzone. Retainers hammered blaster fire at security forces whilst the Jedi cut their way down the street. Enforcers, troopers, and fanatics alike fell at the cyclone of multi-colored plasma that surrounded their tight formation.

Crimson sabers came from the alleyways and leisure complexes. They were met with ripostes in the variety of Cerulean, Verdant, Silver, and the cold gray of Ashina steel. Giving himself to the force as per the wont of Ashin'Kai, Inosuke ebbed through abandoned speeders, his body tumbling and rolling to cater to a corridor of safety between every firey streak and vermillion blade. Lazuline blade pulling itself to every mark, he butchered lackey and ancient enemy alike. Heads rolled.

Deflecting oncoming fire, the High Lord retreated to line up with the formation of his strike team. "Ahead, I sense a great disturbance," he shouted over the sound of their skirmish. "Like a soul in twilight..." Inosuke's body moved on its, swatting every endeavored bolt of condensed tibanna away whilst he searched the depths of his feelings. A horrible notion manifested; The Emperor? Retaking his volition, he cut down an approaching sith and took up the crimson blade to continue his shell of defense against the fire from security forces.

"Fel! The Emperor! We must push!" he shouted, relaying the urgency of this opportunity. With his blue saber, he indicated down the corpse and traffic-crowded street and toward the gates Kaas Palace proper.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Kyric | Stennis Fel | Shinzou Ashina
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The Lightsworn
Bernard | Henna Ashina | Nova Dainlei | Tydeus of Tion | Rik Perris
Fallon Draellix-Kobitana | Kornon | Alaric | Kinoan | Kaleleon | Tyrus Vastor
Sera Rosh | Amalasuntha L'lerim
SITH ORDER
Darth Empyrean (perhaps?)
______________________________________________________________________________________________​

 

[Heinrich Faust]

Tags: Thelar Grayson , Fallon Draellix-Kobitana , Alaric , Amalasuntha L'lerim

Sanctus Dominus

Kaas City... it had been years since Heinrich had set foot upon its accursed soil. The last two significant visits here ended in bloodshed. First it was the Sith and the Maw that had been put to the sword, when the allied forces of the Bastion Accords had laid siege to the planet, leveling much of what was left of the Sith city. Since then, the Crusade had put forth an incredible amount of effort to cleanse the planet, mostly under the guidance of Cardinal Pietro Demici. He had even undergone a reconstruction of a new city, and dedicated an incredible amount of resources to keeping the nexus upon the world at bay. He had gone as far as to make it his seat of power, the central hub for all who worshipped Ashla's Light.

Yet, it wasn't meant to last, for the next time Heinrich had placed his boots on the ground, it was to bring that same man down. Heinrich often wondered if it was the evil nature of the planet itself that had driven Pietro to his final days of madness. Perhaps that just made it easier for him to stomach the Cardinal's shortcomings. It mattered little, for it ended all the same, with Ashlan against Ashlan. And now here he was... on his way to commit himself to the violent business of crusade once again, hoping that maybe for once a long lasting difference would be made.

He turned to his strike team, his eyes narrowing as he looked at those that he held dear. Some were more experienced than others, but he did not doubt their hearts.

"I'm sure you can sense what we are up against here. For those of you that haven't seen this level of violence firsthand, I know that you have at least heard the stories. Well... I wish I could say the reality is as glorious, but I would never lie to you."

His hand reached for his Ashlan rosary, and with a great exhale he continued.

"Be smart, and let Ashla's wisdom guide you. Stick together, and remember... we may be here to do some damage, but don't jump to end the first Sith that crosses your path. There are evils here too great for any one of us to face alone. We are strongest as one."

Turning toward the door of the dropship, Heinrich steeled himself for the bloodshed to come. With a quick punch of a button, the door opened, and Heinrich stepped forth.

"For Ashla!"

With those words, the Grand Marshall dove from the ship, igniting his lightsaber with as snap-hiss as he freefell, landing on an unsuspecting Sith as he plunged the emerald blade deep into his clavicle. An emerald flurry followed as Heinrich deflected several incoming blaster bolts, sending them back from whence they came. He would hold this position as long as it took, until he was sure his team had safely touched boots upon the crowded, violent streets of Kaas City.

​

 

[Darth Invictus]

​

KAAS CITY | STREETS
TAGS: OPEN

​

He came to the planet shortly after the glorious end of Tion, His ship lay at anchor, dwarfed by the massive Mons Mors but also having no immediate interest in the Emperor's chariot. He had not met the corpse god yet but also was not too interested in the Eternalists rule, their interpretation of eternity and conflict was not His.

He came to Dromund Kaas to witness one of the great old Sith worlds, to witness its purity, shaped by the one who was a true Emperor, whose legacy was eternal. And would be restored. The Kainate had reestablished the world and rebuild its cities and fortresses with the sweat of His kin. The Epicanthix rarely experienced a feeling of home, but walking among those who were like Him, was intriguing. Even though He was not as swiftly convinced of the god-like status of Darth Carnifex . Despite being more convinced of that than of the status Darth Empyrean held. Who knew who the gods among mortals were, who knew what religion would prevail.

The presence of the Dead God loomed over the city, but it was not only his that Darth Invictus felt. Something was coming. Someone. Someone with a cause, as righteous and as wrathful as one could wish for. Fanatics pitching themselves to the thrill of vengeance, to the tides of chaos, to the embrace of conflict. He nearly experienced the sensation of pride for them, certainly it fueled His own hubris, the certainty that violence was simply part of nature's plan.

The Sith heard the noise of combat, He felt the unleashed violence and it mirrored inside Him. He took it in, it fueled His every fiber. Clad in dark, battle scarred armor, a hood covering the helmet, a tabard flowing in the winds of the storm which whipped raindrops across every inch of His being, He moved towards the fight. The aura swirling, the presence expanding, a singularity of passion, of wrath.

 

[Amalasuntha L'lerim]

Crusader, Defender of Faith

Information

Objective: Bring Justice
Location: Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Equipment: Sword of Light | Armour || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Alaric | Heinrich Faust | Thelar Grayson | Fallon Draellix-Kobitana

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Dromund Kaas, I had mixed feelings about this place; first Sith world, then Ashlan, then Sith again. It was also important for our family. According to family stories I have heard, this was the place where Alaric and my grandfather lived, the tower named after him was still standing in the town and was owned by our uncle and our family's company. Despite this, I have never been to this planet, as the Ashlan Crusade collapsed right after my "birth" and the Sith soon took over the planet. Fortunately, however, Ession was not yet theirs.

I was looking forward to the fight, but I was still in a family atmosphere, with my brother, my uncle and two friends of our family. Fellon must have been the same age as the Kala'myr twins. Time passes differently in the Netherworld, even though we were the same age, they were still young, but me and Alaric spent more time in a place where time passed like it did here in Realspace.

"At least you don't say uncle what mom would say." I looked at Heinrich with a smile, mom would say not to kill and try to make everyone see Ashla's way, or at least she would try to save their souls.

Most people might wish they'd said they'd never seen anything like it, but I have, and I've seen how my mother destroyed demon armies in the Netherworld that tried to attack either the Sanctuary or the Seat of Ashla. I once wished I could have been a great warrior like Uncle Heinrich, Dad, or Mom. But Fellon had probably never seen anything like it and Alaric always tried to stay away. In Thelar's case, I wasn't sure if he had or hadn't seen anything like that.

"Fellon, I know you can take care of yourself, but try to stay close to me. I'll take care of you!" I smiled kindly at her, I didn't offer it to my brother, I didn't want to offend him.

I then turned my gaze back to Heinrich.

"Ashla wills it!" I replied to my uncle's words when he finished them.

After that he jumped out of the drop ship. Before I even flew out - at times it was a huge advantage to be a shape-shifter - with my wings, I sent a telepathic message to my brother. In Netherworld, I communicated this way most of the time with members of the Valkyrja or Children of Ashla, it's faster and others can't hear.

~ Are you sure you're ready for this, Al? ~ I asked Alaric worriedly.

If Fellon accepted my offer to stay by my side and had no objection to my taking her in my arms, I did so and jumped out of the drop ship with her, then using my wings I landed on the streets of Dromun Kaas, where I put the little girl down on the ground so she could move freely. If she didn't agree to this, I would arrive alone in enemy territory.

 

[Ohois Qhut'eol]

Darth Grosnais arrived at the Storm World of Dromund Kaas before the Lightsworn Strike Team ever touched down, although not with the intention of submitting to the Kainate, who held a misguided belief that their leader Darth Carnifex was a Sith savior and the Sith'ari rather than a self-serving opportunist.

Carnifex had previously led the Sith Empire to glory, only to allow it to crumble due to the schemes of dissatisifed Imperials within their own ranks.

The influence of the Ashlan Crusade's light persisted in small pockets, despite the Sith Order's efforts to bring back the planet's darkness. He had come to study such small pockets of the force in hopes of better understanding their ancient enemy after facing Jedi within the Starship Graveyard on Jakku.

Those jedi had been much more aggressive in their attempts to eradicate him from existence, and so it would seem that radicals had overtaken the once sacred New Jedi Order's principles.

"The intrusion of such extreme Jedi poses a threat to the delicate equilibrium between the Jedi and the Sith."

As he strolled through the revitalized Kaas City, he spoke aloud. His acute perception detected a slight change in the Force, indicating that these were not just minor traces of Ashlan Light, but rather a more perilous force at play. This was further validated by the sudden eruption of blasterfire and alarms echoing throughout the various sectors of the city.

"So it would seem that once again the Planet of Dromund Kaas plays a crucial role in the fate of the restored Sith Empire."

The crimson blade snapped to attention, within tendril hand.

​

 

[QK-2510]

Location: Military District -> Capital District, New Kaas City - Dromund Kaas
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Tag: Kyric

QK-2510’s days were a ritual of devotion to the Eternal Father. Mornings began with ablutions, then prayer, strength and conditioning, and firing exercises. From there, simulated combat drills went late into the afternoon, before finally, lunch was taken, followed by a debrief, maintenance, ablutions, prayer, and then, personal time. However, as pertaining to the very last ritual, QK-2510 could not help but to regard it as a disgusting, unholy waste. Not all shared her opinion, of course. But for her part, the Hapan strand-cast occupied her personal time with additional physical training, so as to hone the body that the Eternal Father had crafted with His hands into a finer, more lethal weapon.

And so, QK-2510 worked to train her strength, flexibility, agility, and balance. All were indispensable to a jet trooper, especially to stave off any potential injury which might be incurred from the powerful forces acting on her body during intense jetpack operation. Without said physical balance, she could very easily strain muscles or tear tendons, both of which were painful, embarrassing consequences that the strand-cast had suffered on more than one occasion. Each time, she had hated the rehabilitation and disability that came with injury, often crippling her to such an extent that she was unable to participate in afternoon combat drills.

While there were some who considered such injuries to ultimately stem from luck, for QK-2510, they represented not only a weakness of the body, but also of the mind and spirit.

As such, there were few things that QK-2510 could suffer to interrupt her nightly physical training sessions. It went without saying that an emergency raid was one of those few exceptions. In that regard, only minutes passed between from the moment she had received the alert on her G1 OmniLink while doing her stretches to now—fully suited-up and at maximum combat readiness.

Then, only minutes later, QK-2510 took to the skies.

Three full squads of jet troopers raced out from the upper platforms of Fortress Ultima on wings of fire and fury in response to the growing Jedi incursion and now, rebellion. In that respect, remnant cells of Ashlan radicals concealed within the population had seized the raid as an opportunity to rise up in open, armed revolt. Thus, QK-2510 and the soldiers in her squad had been tasked with striking them down, with the objective of restoring order.

<<Rebels in our sector.>> The squad lead hissed in guttural Ghoul-Speak. <<They've infested the Capital District, making for the Tower.>> He added, his tone marked with disgust. All the while, the implications of what might happen if the Tower were to be compromised immediately dawned on the strand-cast. Vast amounts of intelligence and information risked falling in the hands of Lightblind heretics, thereby giving them access to clearance codes, classified reports, and yet more. The compromising of even a single clearance code, if used judiciously, could prove disastrous.

<<We need an assessment of their capabilities before we move to strike.>> The squad lead continued. <<QK-2510, you will move ahead to probe their positions. Engage the rebels at your discretion, but report back as soon as possible.>> He directed.

<<Copy that, Lieutenant.>> QK-2510 answered back, before rolling off from the main formation and breaking towards the Capital District in a steep, diving descent. As she did, her rifle came unfolded from its place over her jetpack, at which point she leveraged both her synthetic and natural senses to search for the rebels below.

It did not take her long to find them.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

​

The Dark Lord had pushed the boundaries of the city until it encompassed the entire continent of Kosqam. Rather than completely pave over the jungle, as those who founded Old Kaas City would have done, the Dark Lord employed the greatest Epicanthix architectural minds to blend both city and jungle seamlessly together. These new districts He gave to the Epicanthix, to express themselves and grow as they pleased. They were not solely limited to these new lands, of course, and the Epicanthix spread far and wide across Dromund Kaas. From the harsh jungles to the biting poles, the Dark Lord's people embraced their new home and thrived in the adversity.​

Kosqam, New Kaas City

Low Atmosphere

The black thunderheads above New Kaas City mirrored the storm within Tydeus' soul. As he clung to the overhead rail and felt their ship rock with turbulence, the whirlwind within him only grew. Every day since pledging his blade to the Lightsworn, he'd risen to train and not gone to sleep until the muscles in his body ached. On the journey here, he spent every waking moment in an empty cargo bay, breaking only to eat. Nothing else mattered to him.

He drew in a breath as the freighter lowered, then he exhaled. As he exhaled, he shunted open the door and fell through the atmsophere. Rain whipped around him, splashing across his simple armorweave and soaking his face and hair. He squinted through the storm. His stomach lurched in his mouth. The ground rushed up to meet him. He landed cat-like, absorbing the shock as he bent his knees and rolled as that blind MIralukan taught him what seemed so long ago. He came up on his feet, cortosis woven vibrosword in one hand, the other empty.

Before him lay a training complex for the Ilam Bsaakik, the Epicanthix warriors of the genocidal tyrant, Darth Carnifex. Jungle trees and durasteel blended together in the complex in some symbiosis. Tydeus wondered if it would stop it all from burning.

Two warriors at the gates spotted Tydeus and rushed toward him, come to defend their Sozeal'r-Hozim.

The last of the Gravid dynasty flowed between them with preternatural speed, a gloved fist shooting forward with precision and power. Tydeus' fist slammed into the man's armor covered chest.

CRACK​

The boom echoed and the man stumbled back, spitting blood from his mouth.

A blur of silver through the rain toward an outstretched hand. The hand went flying, cartwheeling scarlet. Tydeus brought the vibroblade around in a backhand that finished the second handless foe with a cut that removed his head. It bounced along the ground and rolled, the body followed, gushing gore.

The rain fell, coming harder now, sweeping their vitae toward the nearest drain.

Tydeus advanced on the survivor, his lips twisting up in a cruel imitation of a smile.

Let their iron blood flow.

Bernard | Rik Perris | Sera Rosh​

 

[Shinzou Ashina]

[ Theme ]

Shinzou Ashina

| Location | Kaas City, Dromund Kaas​

| Objective | Retribution​

​

Shinzou leaned back in his seat as the stealth ship made its way down to the surface of Dromund Kaas, raising a hand up to pick at a loose straw from his hat before pushing the end of it between his lips. The call had been made to hit the Sith fast and hard, with the attack being aimed at one of their core home worlds in light of recent events. Shinzou was a firm believer of karmic retribution, and for what the Sith had done, there would be an appropriate response - and they would be reminded that they were not free to do as they pleased in the Galaxy. Even if the Galactic Alliance and the Jedi Order had become lax in the campaign against the Dark, the Lightsworn would be there to reignite the flame that nearly wiped out the Sith before.​

​

As the ship descended further, Shinzou stood ready to disembark, giving a glance over to Inosuke Ashina who was taking point for the strike team they had assembled. As they made ready to make landfall he simply commented, " On you Inosuke. " before leaping down to the ground and taking up position with the rest of Strike Team Karis. With one lightsaber drawn and ignited to flash its cerulean blue blade, Shinzou wasted little time in cutting down any combatants that came his way or approached the Strike Team from the flank, effortlessly redirecting blaster shots and fending off incoming hostiles. ​

​

A Sith warrior would emerge from the shadows, swinging upwards at Shinzou in an attempt to cut him in half. The Ashina bladesman reached down with his free hand as he gripped the hilt of one of his sheathed blades, partially drawing it as the Ashina steel flashed when intercepting the crimson saber. The katana had caused the Sith's saber to short out, taking the Sith by surprise as he found himself without arms soon after as Shinzou's saber moved gracefully to remove them from their body as the bladesman twirled in a flurry of cloth and blade. The Sith's mouth was agape, about to let out a scream of pain - but no sound escaped as his vision suddenly went spiraling; his head having been liberated from his torso as the click of his katana being resheathed was heard and Shinzou turned to ignite his second saber to provide additional cover.​

​

Shinzou's gaze turned over to Inosuke as he heard him speak. He felt it too - the dark presence that set itself apart from the lower rank and file. Perhaps they would have an opportunity to deal an even greater blow than just the simple retaliatory raid they had initially planned.​

​

​

Inosuke Ashina | Kyric | Stennis Fel ​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Krataa, Irluuk, Midwan."

Several voices chanted in synchronized rhythm amidst smoke and darkness, twelve bodies prostrating before a great slab of metal and stone. Above them was the body of the Dark Lord of the Kainate, suspended inverse amidst a tangle of organic mass. Pain radiated out from His body, bleeding into the Force and blackened it with darkness. He endured the pain, welcomed it, allowed it to fill His body with terrible agony. For there was purity in such suffering, enlightenment and truth.

The voices spoke again, "Krataa, Irluuk, Midwan."

Eyes clenched closed suddenly opened, unnerving the reverent supplicants. The cancerous mass withdrew, the Dark Lord slipping from it's embrace and lowering to the ground. He pivoted as He did, coming to rest on His feet. Naked and drenched in sweat, the Dark Lord's body was a tapestry of devotion; black tattoos inked across His chest and limbs, radiating with dark, esoteric power.

His eyes, pupils a brilliant gold amidst inky wells, stared out at the assembled devotees. Without a gesture, they all suddenly arched back on their knees, wisps of sickly green light spilling from their eyes and mouth. All coalesced into a single stream, converging at the center of the Dark Lord's chest. When the light faded from them, all that remained were desiccated husks. The Dark Lord arose, vitality strengthened from His grotesque feast. Slipping on a black robe, Darth Carnifex made His way to the door.

As He slipped out of the ritual chamber, a robed attendant moved to shadow Him. "Supreme Excellency, there's been a disturbance." The Dark Lord's answer was immediate and struck through with impatience. "Yes, I've felt it. You regale me with what I already know." The attendant bowed and allowed the Dark Lord to continue on without him, he would discipline himself later with the lash. Emerging onto a balcony overlooking the city, the Dark Lord's senses flooded every street, boulevard, and alleyway.

Yes, it was as expected.

His eyes briefly glanced towards the heavens, where the Mors Mon loomed like a monstrous bird of prey. Both of them had anticipated this, welcomed it even. It was what they had discussed so long ago in secret, and now all of the pieces were beginning to fall into place. As His armor was being prepared for use, the Dark Lord summoned a security commandant to His quarters. When the commandant arrived, the Dark Lord relayed His edicts.

"Conduct your forces reactively, commandant. Draw in the full scale of their incursion. When the time comes, I will ride out myself." The commandant bowed low in reverence, "Our existence is at your pleasure, Supreme Excellency, my life is given freely." At the Dark Lord's bidding, the commandant arose and turned to carry out the Dark Lord's orders. But before he left, the Dark Lord had one final parting statement. "Die well, commandant. It is not only my eyes who fall upon you today." To that, the commandant could only bow his head, and then he was gone.

Watching from high above, the Dark Lord of the Kainate bid His time.

 

[Kaleleon]

​

ARMOR | SHIELD | SUNFIRE SWORD | LIGHTSABER | SHATTER PISTOL

​

This was the beginning of our fight. This was the beginning of the Lightsworn to take the fight to the Sith. This was going to be the start of something greater. Breathing in and out, the sound of such echoing within the helmet I wore. Feeling the rocking and bouncing of the ship as we dropped down to the planet. Centering myself for this conflict like I had done so many times before. Only now, there was the one reason I had for doing this. The singular power within my chest that I knew this was the right decision.

The ramp lowered with Kornon stepping first. Almost leading it as part of their starting position. Only just recently met the individual, they knew of me it seemed. Always having my reputation proceed me. Yet here I was. Full armor, and gear. Prepared for War. Reaching to my back, I pulled the shield from the mag-lock on my back. Rendering it to my left forearm instead. The hard metal clamp sound echoed from behind with the opening of the ramp. Drawn from my belt, was the Crossguarded hilt. A wolf's head on the emitter. Specifically, it was a weapon of my ancestors. One in which I would be bringing with me not just as a Jedi, Not as a Lightsworn, but also as a Paladin of the Adamite Tower. We would now no longer be held upon just Weik. We would be expanding to be the Protector-Judges of the Galaxy.

The Jedi were peacekeepers. Paladins? They didn't keep the peace. They didn't police people. They brought judgement to those who had wronged others. They brought the wrath of the force down upon them. The Destruction of Tion, was only their start. And so here, we would be returning the favor.

Jedi and Sith were of the same coin. Each seeking power in different ways. Seeking to bring justice or vengeance in their own forms. Yet, the Jedi held so many rules. They burdened themselves with stipulations and restrictions so that they would not fall to the Darkness. The Sith were Monsters and yet could still be held off against those who held those rules. So there was a singular thought that rang through my mind.

What if a Jedi, and Paladin, held not a rule? Held not to the oaths of war. And instead using their power in the force, combat, would bring the Sith back down to their knees?

This was the Lightsworn. Good men, who had rules for a reason.

"For Light and Life."

I echoed Kormon as I followed him to land upon the earth. The Fire of my blade igniting as it fell down to the ground. Slamming into the earth with force.

Kornon | Kinoan | Henna Ashina
Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex ​

 

[Kyric]

A SWORD-FORGED ANEW
The Kid
Blade Runner

​

Kyric exploded from his drop pod with the intensity of a living storm. Viridescent plasma mixed with sterling steel as he followed in the wake of the elder Ashina cousins. Terror erupted around the quartet as dozens died within seconds. Stennis' silver saber descended in powerful strikes that left soldiers dead in groupings of two and three, while Kyric skipped between the trio in a haze, his form shrouded in the shadow of his allies as his blade tore through the unsuspecting Sith.

Innocents fell in the opening crossfire immediately. While their surprise attack did not go unnoticed by the Dead God, the sudden arrival of four freighters, dozens of drop pods, and rampant explosions throughout the bio-synthetic streets did little to keep the commonfolk at peace. This was not an organized invasion force striking at the Stygian Caldera. These were extremists radicalized by the untold deaths of Tion and the loss of Tython.

"Ahead, I sense a great disturbance."

Kyric ducked a blaster bolt fired from the second floor of a nearby cafe, or maybe an apartment, the Kid couldn't tell. The fighting grew thicker with each passing second. If not for the experience of his immediate compatriots, the boy knew he would have been lost in the opening clash. Though Kyric's skills were sharpened from years of training, a battlefield was a very different place. These weren't underpaid criminals or lone bladesman on the other end of his saber. Every one of them was a trained killer dedicated to the eradication of the light. They moved with precision, organizing in positions of superiority to even the odds in the aftermath of the ambush.

"Fel! The Emperor! We must push!"

The Apprentice nearly slipped at the mention of the Emperor. He narrowly recovered his footing in time to parry aside a half-dressed Acolyte who threw himself at Kyric from the nearby shadows. The two flashed, their bodies no more than a black blur. Crimson hate met emerald Resolve as the two blades clashed. Kyric parried aside the opening thrust and countered with a downward chop. His opponent side-stepped the strike, reversed his saber so what should have been the pommel pointed directly at the boy, and flicked a second ignition switch on their saber hilt.

The kiffar swatted the second blade aside with an inside-outside low block aimed for the Acolyte's hilt, then unceremoniously drove his blade directly through the Sith's gut and tore up and out of his shoulder. A thrust of the hand sent the body tumbling wordlessly out of sight.

By then, Inosuke, Shinzou, and Stennis had pushed further up the street. Kyric looked up to the stream of blaster fire following them from the second story of the same building from before.

"Man, y'all are annoyin'!" Kyric took a few steps back and jumped up. He caught the railing with his free hand and slipped over onto the second-floor veranda. A nearby Sith trooper turned in time to raise their blaster, meet the oncoming saber, and watch their arms carry it over the railing. Kyric winced and decapitated him. A quicker death. The kiffar's body blurred forward after, and he cut an emerald path through the riflemen who harried his allies with little trouble.

Now was a better time than any to break off and begin his objective. Kyric stood atop the railing and leaped up to the third floor of the adjacent building. He continued that process for the next minute, scaling up to the very top of the star scraper he inhabited. From the roof, he could see Kaas City stretching out all around him. The seamless blend of city and jungle made it something beautiful, even if it was tucked away on a disgusting, corrupt planet like Dromuund Kaas.

Standing above the city like a monolith to some dark god (probably Kaine), the Sith Citadel and its many secrets awaited the seasoned Shadow.

Inosuke Ashina | Shinzou Ashina | Stennis Fel
Darth Empyrean (perhaps?) | QK-2510

 

[Fallon Draellix-Kobitana]

Location: Dromund Kaas
Objective:
Loadout: here
Tags: Thelar Grayson Amalasuntha L'lerim Heinrich Faust Alaric

Fallon was unusually quiet on the journey over to Dromund Kaas, other than being sick once along the way which she wished she could put down to nerves but her family knew was down to her embarrassing case of space induced motion sickness. They let her get on with it and didn't make a scene, which helped. It wasn't the sickness that made her quiet though, and finally as they broke atmosphere allowed the rest of them insight into her thoughts. "The last time a Draellix set foot on Kaas was when my mother faced Cardinal Demici." Ashla rest his soul. She didn't expect comfort, it was just statement of fact, a story her mother had told as part of Ashlan history. But now they were here.

Amalasuntha L'lerim offered her a lift to the ground, she accepted it, it wasn't the first time she had been carried aloft by a L'lerim and she knew how to hold her small body to put the least amount strain on the valkyrie. "Sure, we can look out for each other." she said gratefully, there was no sense in getting bothered that people looked at her as the baby of the group, it was true after all. And if a fellow Ashlan offered to stand back to back with you, you were grateful. She did look forward to showing just how well she could take care of herself.

The pair landed on the streets and Fallon looked around her. Her mother had been very keen on teaching Fallon that force would take her far, but a true warrior used all the tools at their disposal. So she quickly unlinked to the few remaining Ashlan satellites in orbit over the world and SAINT selected some information that had been gathered by them. In practice it gave her a usable heads up map of the city with sith activity hotspots marked out. Unfortunately it was not real time as the satellites that did remain survived for their limited active sensors. She offered to share the information with Amalasuntha L'lerim and any other chipped Ashlans.

"What do you think? Apparently there was a Ashlan medical centre not far from here and you know what the Bogan are like for those kinds of things."

 

[Bernard]

Dromund Kaas, Kaas City
Separated from Strike Team Treicolt
PoV: Bernard of Arca, formerly the Sentinel of Harmony. Now the ...

SWORD OF THE JEDI

With a snap-hiss, the sword of a Jedi once again breathed life on the ancestral home of an enemy, for the first time in decades. It devoured the oxygen around it and exhaled its ozone breath. The blade dug into steel, cloth, then flesh, but remained unsated.

The first soldier collapsed to the floor, and his comrade turned to open fire. Bernard twirled the blue blade of his saber, reflecting one of the bolts. It struck the remaining soldier, who yelped and fell, clattering to the floor in his full armour dress uniform. The alleyway calmed after that. Both of the soldiers now laid crumpled lifelessly on the floor. Yells and panicked footsteps echoed from the street ahead, those of civilians fleeing from the sound of blaster fire.

Bernard stepped out into that street. The silhouettes of men and women disappeared around corners and into alleyways, while curious heads stole cautious glimpses through curtains above.

He stood alone on that street then, separated even from the other warriors in his task force. During their transit, he'd assisted the young Nova Dainlei to navigate the currents of hyperspace on a transport different from that his team occupied. A necessary, if regrettable risk, but it made prioritizing his next steps simpler.

Before anything else, he had to find the others. He had been named their Sword by the Lightsworn's reformation. The blade that would cut the darkness and lead the Light to victory. The fates of his Lightsworn were now a responsibility he would bear.

He set out into the overgrown streets of Kaas City in search of his comrades, and reached out through the Force. With their cover blown, there was no no longer any reason to hide himself from the Sith. Let them see him in the Force, he thought, a beacon foretelling their oncoming destruction.

He walked the empty streets, an open challenge to any Sith, and beneath Kaas' rain his lightsaber hummed its quiet song of ruin.

---

PoV: Maro Vancil
Formerly a military sensors technician in the outer regions of Sith space within the Stygian Caldera. Now jobless on Dromund Kaas.

Dromund Kaas, Vornskr Square
Several blocks away from the Jedi's point of incursion

//OOC: Trying my hand at some storytelling that's novel to me here, no slights intended to our Sith writer brethren and sisters

Maro Vancil had gone out for his weekly grocery run, clutching the curled up, empty plastic bag in his hand so tight his knuckles were running white. His stomach churned and growled. He hadn't eaten in days. Now, finally, his feet had carried him all the way to Vornskr Square where the markets had reopened only a few days ago.

Vorsnkr Square, he'd come to loathe the place, fear it even, over the last weeks. It started when he was let go from his position in the military. 'Tardiness, sloppy work, and a lack of imperial spirit.' Those had been the reasons handed to him on that piece of flimsi which had made the firing official. He hadn't cared too much about that. He'd stopped caring what his superiors thought of him a long time ago. They would invent reports and falsify documents, attributing any wide number of cowardly, slovenly, or unpatriotic deeds to his name as they saw fit. No, he didn't much mind what they claimed he did, nor did he regret all the orders he had carried out in their service. As a sensors technician he'd been the first to identify and report any threats, so that the military proper could keep the people safe.

No, the reason for the nightmares that plagued him each and every night was what he hadn't done under their noses.

Maro stepped onto Vornskr Square proper, swallowing hard. At this time of day, the square was fairly deserted. Only a handful of people hurried from vendor to vendor to accomplish their errands. But time of day wasn't everything. Vornskr Square bore scars. On the side opposite Maro, a construction team still drilled to get at damaged powerlines at the bottom of a crater, left by the recent Mandalorian attack, that stood out like a scar on an otherwise spotless duracrete edifice of Imperial power.

Maro's throat tightened. Nervously, he pinched at the fabric of his trousers. That scar, the people that lay buried there ... he bore their deaths on his conscience. Yet none of those faces in this square, going about their errands now, would ever know. He bore the weight all on his own. Alone in a city of millions.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Conflict began to erupt, and the emotions that come with war flooded the capital city of the world. Deep and pulsing, blood spilled and the world came alive in its carnage - the pain, sorrow, the adrenaline and fear, all these things empowered the Dark Side. Perhaps in turn, it even empowered the crusaders, who's ideals were built so deeply in passion that they bordered on Sith zealotry in their own right.​

​

The death's this strike team caused were profound, but negligible in the grand scheme of the wars to be fought. A hundred died, and the Emperor could only think that the blood spilled would pay dividends in a years time. Let it soak into the cursed earth, it will soon serve its purpose as all things in this galaxy must. If not today, then tomorrow.​

​

"My Emperor, shall you be returning to the Mors Mon?", an aged, decrepit Sepulchral Priest asked him, head bowed and eyes averted to the ground.​

​

Empyrean looked back to him with a frown, forgetting he was even present. Annoying things these priests - he had killed three and they kept sending more without so much as a complaint. They reassured him it was his right to kill them when he wished, that their lives were his to dispose of, but he wasn't a fool. He didn't trust these leeches and power brokers. He could smell their manipulation.​

​

"No. I will stay here and fight. Gerwald Lechner -", he said as he turned to his Wrath.​

​

"Find the Jedi and kill them. I will begin to make my way there. Don't be too quick about it, the more harm they do the Kainite the better. Try and figure out if they have a plan that means something more than mass murder. Critical Infrastructure they're moving towards, military installations, anywhere they linger too long. Report these things to Kainite authorities, but do your own investigation before you do. If they leave a bomb, I want to know about it."​

​

WIth that, he raised a hand and dismissed the wolf. With a second movement, he walked through the aether, from the room of luxury he held court to the streets near the fighting. In one hand his staff, Kala'anda formed in preparation for war, and in the other, the slow manifestation of the Dark Side created a cloudy pseudo hand that carved through the air as he walked.​

​

One of these Jedi would soon move to face him - he'd just have to kill the first one that did so.​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: New Kaas City //:
//: Tydeus of Tion //:

May we dance unknowingly with a Devil

New Kaas City had recently become home to the Echani Princess. Despite the war being at the forefront, Quinn still found value in having a place to call home. This was the first place besides Eshan that she had been able to do so. She had recently pulled back from the battlefield, looking to find herself before returning. It felt that most of her life was surrounded by war, and today, it seemed like it wouldn't be any different. Quinn had planned her day accordingly, with small chores and some shopping to make the apartment feel more like Eshan. Her Godmother had been an angel and had given her artifacts to use while decorating. It never occurred to Quinn how much she had missed the Eshan Palace, but at least she had parts of it to keep her connected.

As Quinn pulled her cloak over her shoulders, the city's defense sirens began to ring. She looked towards her window and saw the mobilization of the ground forces designated to protect the city. Pausing, Quinn wondered if she should remain hidden; the threat outside was unknown, and she was ill-prepared for a fight. A hand thumbed with the broach near her neck as she let her eyes scan the foyer, her saber suddenly catching her attention. "Might as well." her words muffled as she spoke quietly.

At the end of the day, Quinn Varanin was a citizen of the Sith Empire, the god-daughter of the Emperor and Empress; she had to stand firm against any enemy threat.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs; a hand pushed her white hair from her face and behind an ear once she emerged from the stairwell. Already, the fighting had begun. Her errands would have to wait, which meant dinner would also be late - at least, it would only be her suffering. Quinn moved quickly down the street, heading in a direction led only by the Force. The rain pelted harder against her clothing as she used the base of her palm to push aside her hair again, trying to keep the soaked strands from her eyes.

A gasp escaped her parted lips as she stopped running, coming across a scene she hadn't expected. A guard lay dead, their head rolling towards the woman's foot, stopping as its dead gaze stared up in horror.

Quinn looked down as the thick ichor caused the rain to stain the streets red. It took a moment, but she found her voice as she looked up towards the man who advanced on the lone survivor. "What are you doing?" Fear bled through her words as she watched, waiting to see if her question could give the surviving guard a moment to run.

Stupidly, she should have attacked, but something in her froze - the attacker had something horrid about him. He bled, not from a physical wound - no, something more profound that she could sense. The Forceborn had never felt this before, and she clutched the locket that hung around her neck for comfort. Sadly, the locket's creator - her protector would never come, no matter how hard she wished it.