Junction An Eye for an Eye | GA + MAW Junction of Selvaris and Copero

[Michael Sardun]

Apprentice: Ishida Ashina
Foes: Laoth

All around them, death.

This was the Force.

As much as life if not more. ​

Sardun followed behind his padawan. Slower and with no rush. While Ishida heard the cries of help, Sardun already knew they were too late. The thrum in the Light made that clear. And to rush into dangerous for the benefit of the dying? Well, you only ensured your own death in kind. The dead could not provide justice.

The dead could not mettle out judgement.

These were the things Sardun provided. Not the warmth of healing, which Bernard so foolishly tried to teach his Padawan. Not the path of forgiveness explained by Asmundr Varobalder when they were discussing the danger presented by Dagon Kaze .

Justice. Judgement.

Nothing less, nothing more. It would have to be enough.

By the time that Michael entered the clearing his suspicions were confirmed. The bond forged between Ish and himself had vibrated with pain.... and horror... and shame. A curious combination of feelings. When younger Michael might have been confused. But even as his Padawan tried to shield her inner-most thoughts, her Master could sense the surface of them. Skidding past. Difficult to grasp, but familiar.

"You attempted to practice what Padawan Bernard preached." Michael said simply as he came to stop next to her. His gauntleted hand reaching out to touch Ish's shoulder... and then withdrawing, before she could see the tentative motion of support.

No, this was not the time.

"And now... all around you.... death." His gaze followed that of his Padawan. A forged path of broken trees and branches. Where the Light had swept and forced abomination out. Temporarily anyway. "When I tell you something, I do not do so in ignorance. I do this... to spare you from the mistakes I made in my own youth."

No judgement here.

But no warmth either, never warmth, no.

"Erase your guilt. Rip out your hate. Excise everything in your heart except for one thing, duty. We will attempt to destroy this evil. Here and now. But there will be no pleasure or satisfaction."

The helmet hiding his face shifted to regard the broken bodies of Alliance personnel.

From his belt Sardun pulled out his hammer. Their immediate area cleared up ever so slightly. Light within and without. Their spines straightening up by themselves as they both responded to its call. "Too many have died already, because of this abomination. More will follow... unless we destroy it at its root."

And there his free hand did settle on Ish's shoulder. Not to support, instead to squeeze and ground his Padawan to the present.

"Think. Act after." Repeating himself again... and again. This seemed to be the most difficult lesson for Ish to learn.

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Sword of the Tenth | The Panoply
Tags: Michael Sardun | Ishida Ashina
Location: Selvaris| The Ebruchized

A Display of Rage
White Flames
Sardun Joins the Fray​

---

Laoth never felt the impact until he was flat on his back in the rubble of what was once trees and shrubbery. For the moments of his reunion with Ishida Ashina, he had been so focused on the actual conversation - or, rather, manipulation of her emotions. His eyes blind to all but her expressions, his ears deaf to all but her tonal shifts, and his stance far too relaxed to indicate that he took her seriously. After all, why would he when she had let him live despite all that had occurred on Jedha.

Relics plundered, recruits slaughtered, families torn asunder, minds shattered at the stems. All by his drug-addled hands so desperately trying to achieve some semblance of bloodied understanding in this post-prison world. This day surely would be no different, and Ishida - if she somehow bested him - would let him walk away with perhaps a few new scars and a new growing hatred for Jedi. But he would live once more, and if she lived, she would go on with the regret of her mercy festering more than it already was.

So, one can say it came as a surprise to the Devaronian when he suddenly saw a flicker of emotion not common in the Jedi cross her face. Rage. Pure unadulterated fury and even shame. Had he a moment to truly understand what was coming from that flicker of emotion, Laoth would have licked his lips in anticipation or humor, ready to see just how far one born in the Light would be willing to dive to combat a beast of darkness. As said before, Laoth never felt the impact until he was flat on his back. One moment he was standing with sword pointed at the woman, and the next saw him flying through the trees until he crashed down hard. Laoth rose to his feet immediately with a noise somewhere between a snarl and a chortle, and he began to rush forth through the thickets of jungle trees and vines.

Yet, he was stopped mid-step by a sudden surge of a presence next to Ishida's own. One he had not been aware of until just now. His vision faded from scintillating colors to a muted field of black, unexpectedly as if pushed into an overdrive of focus in the Force. The plumes of white indicating the Jedi had now quadrupled in size, Ishida's own modest flame brilliantly raised up by the scorching inferno of whoever had joined her side. Laoth's vision returned to normal as his lips curved into a fanged grin as wide as his sword, the mangled rows of sharp teeth a horrid picture of evil.

Great strides carried him far through the path he had traveled, stepping and stepping until finally he breached the thickets into the clearing of the once hidden trail. Crystal blue eyes settled on the woman of his malicious intent, yet quickly shifted to the man standing next to her. Like Laoth, he was a giant compared to the woman, though the Devaronian still held more of that field. But that did not interest him. Physique was nothing. What did was that the man was armored like a crusader of old - perhaps even an angel of the older myths of the Galaxy - his gauntleted hand gripping a hammer sizzling with energy.

"Well, who might you be?" the Devaronian inquired, rotating his shoulders to a symphony of crackles as his joints were loosened. He stepped forward after, swinging his massive blade through the air in twirling displays of swordsmanship. "The little mouse's handler? Making sure she does not sneak off too much?

The piercing gaze roved to the hand on the woman's shoulder, and a light clicked in the beast's mind. "Wait...no, are you her Master? If so, you're doing a poor job of that you know. Look at what she did. Got all of these young men and women killed...because she didn't kill me. Poor, poor training if you ask me."

 

[Ishida Ashina]

LIGHT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING
SELVARIS | JUNGLES | APPROACHING OUTPOST
LIGHT THINKS IT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING
BUT IT IS WRONG
NO MATTER HOW FAST LIGHT TRAVELS,
IT FINDS DARKNESS HAS ALWAYS GOT THERE FIRST.
AND IS WAITING FOR IT.

"You attempted to practice what Padawan Bernard preached."

Ishida sucked in a sharp breath. Her cheeks tingled, brows shoved in closer to one another, and an involuntary tightness wound its way through her body.

"And now... all around you.... death. When I tell you something, I do not do so in ignorance. I do this... to spare you from the mistakes I made in my own youth."

Syllable after syllable of pedagogical condemnation reverberated through her. Each sentence punctuated another sting to her fault. It wound its way into her joints, behind her eyes, and the hard set of her jaw.

In silence, she collected herself and stared down the pathway of shattered branches and crushed shrubbery. She did not protest, did not try to defend herself from the truth. Attempts and practice of mercy had resulted in morbid permanence for the lives of dutiful soldiers.

"Erase your guilt. Rip out your hate. Excise everything in your heart except for one thing, duty. We will attempt to destroy this evil. Here and now. But there will be no pleasure or satisfaction."

At the precipice of losing herself to the vertigo of shame, Ishida was drawn back by the pressure from Sardun’s palm. She forced herself not to breathe, in case he felt the roiling shudder that threatened to snap through the tension between her shoulders. Exhaling out a shallow, shuddery breath, she felt herself nod. Her hand squeezed the fallen soldier’s one last time. Then, with her guilt and her hate, she let it go.

She might have been able to do it so easily if Sardun hadn’t withdrawn his Lightborn weapon at the same time she decided to exhale. She sat for a few extra seconds, preciously consuming the time to calibrate her centre and ease the tremble that threatened to creep into her limbs. The still air crawled across her skin and she exhaled again, through clenched teeth.

The time for trancelike calm was not now, however.

"Well, who might you be?" "The little mouse's handler? Making sure she does not sneak off too much?

The hate she’d allow slide off her started to congeal in a pool around her knees, vying to drown her in it again. She leapt up, separating herself from its seeping pull.

Look at what she did. Got all of these young men and women killed...because she didn't kill me. Poor, poor training if you ask me."

His words stabbed at her heart. A prickling sensation danced across the scar on her chest and tightened around her lungs. Detest for the massive Sith started to rise from where she’d abandoned it, like a low tide ready for her to wade through. Heat flared from her core, and she glowered at the beast as if she could incinerate him with her gaze.

She’d apologize to Sardun later — for now, the best apology was action.

Her sabre snapped back to her hand, bright white, with a grip so strong if the hilt were made of anything other than Ashina steel it might have shattered. Hesitation fell away, and Ishida stretched out a hand. The Force groped around on her behalf, and while she surged forward in deadly silence and attacked at the right side of the beast to draw the attention of his weapon, her metaphysical extension wound itself around one of the fallen, girthy branches Laoth had crushed earlier and whipped it toward the back of his legs to bring him down.

---

NJO | GA | Michael Sardun

| Valery Noble | Cale Gunderson | Aleksandr Stirsea
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Laoth

| Kralmus Orr | Dodhorn Harert

 

[Michael Sardun]

Apprentice: Ishida Ashina
Foes: Laoth

Unbridled impulse does surprise
If not for longstanding experience
Ishida Ashina is no mice
​

The presence of Laoth arrived before his large stride ripped through the cacophony of forest green.

Sardun already looked up.

Took it in.

Measured. Judged. And found the beast wanting in the Light. This one could be put down safely. There would be no quest for redemption... not that Michael searched for this often in his crusade. But he tempered, ever so slightly, in the continued pressure of those closest around him. From Kaska Arden to Ishida now.

"I do not matter." Sardun responded as he let go of Ish's shoulder. "Only the Light does. And I am its keeper." Its Lord, the hammer sang, as his grip tightened around the pommel.

As the beast spoke Ishida responded.

Her hatred blossoming up. Sardun sighed in disappointment. She had much to learn, so much.

"The one who swings the sword does the killing. We hold the first and last responsibility. We choose. We do. We judge. This is our duty." Sardun said calmly, more to Ishida than to Laoth, because the latter did not matter. The former? Mattered too much perhaps. Even still, Sardun knew what would happen next and his fist already rose up.

An invisible grip tightened around the slight frame of Ishida and violently pulled her back with little regard.

Until she was sat right next to him.

"This is no fairy tale, where the heroine dashes off to get vengeance." The ring set around his gauntlet flared up in colors of blue in response to his call of the Force. By some means Sardun's presence in the Force magnified even more.

"Beast." Only now addressing Laoth personally. "Kneel and submit. Your execution will be clean. This is my final offer."

The invisible tendrils holding Ishina next to him did not subside.

Not yet.

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Sword of the Tenth | The Panoply
Tags: Michael Sardun | Ishida Ashina
Location: Selvaris| The Ebruchized

A Leash Gets Yanked
A Demon Laughs
Kneeling Befits Peons​

---

There was little time for Laoth to truly understand what occurred before him in the span of four seconds. First, he saw Ishida Ashina rise to her feet and felt the bubblings of rage ignite into a boiling cauldron of choler and redemption. Then, she charged at him with her blade in hand and ignited to produce the gleaming white plasmic light, and her hand coiling to pull on the powers of the Force. His smile grew only impossibly wider at the sensation it filled him with, his danger sense rising to the surface of the black ocean of his faculties as he suddenly lunged backward, up and over the branch his foe had attempted to strike him down with.

Bringing his blade across his chest and sliding his legs apart at shoulder distance, Laoth was prepared to block her clear intent to cut him, only to - shockingly - find that she had vanished from her approach. In fact, she had now been seated next to the armored man who sounded as if he were scolding her. Laoth's stance slackened from the defensive posture he had adopted. What had happened? Had the man...pulled on her leash like a dog?

The image of what had happened was a blank in his mind, but judging by the words chosen by the armored man, it was the only logical conclusion the beast of bloodshed could draw. Ishida Ashina, warrior extraordinaire of the Jedi, had just been put into a timeout. Laughter erupted instantly from the beast's belly in thundering waves that cracked even the sounds of distant battle. True humor had only come to the man three times before, at most, and all of them prior to his entombment at the hands of those traitorous bastards. Snorting, the Devaronian swung his hand away from the hilt of his sword in an expression of disbelief, turning his back to the pair and taking a few false steps away.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he cackled, catching his breath as he turned back around and wiped a single tear from his eye. "I know, I should not be laughing...but...that's just...you really are...completely pathetic, little mouse. I mean, all Jedi are pathetic hypocrites, but you...getting leashed like that? Truly, you keep setting the bar lower."

His attentions then switched the armored man who finally spoke to him directly, and his words only sparked further hysterical laughter from the already humored giant of corrupted flesh and bone. In the midst of his frantic attempts to catch his breath, the Devaronian quickly spied the glowing ring around the man's finger and the intense feelings of the Force that rang from it like a smith's hammer. Taking a few steps forward now toward the pair, Laoth's expression abruptly fell from his good touches of humor, returning to the sadistic grin of unchained and unhoned pure evil that lay within his soul. Ever so slowly, his free hand began to twist and bend to a symphony of cracks and pops. If the pair were attentive enough, they might have caught the ground some ways away slightly shifting - perhaps even...bubbling?

"You want me to kneel, Jedi?" he asked lowly, his voice a miasma of dark tones with a surprising hint of offended irritation. The grip on his sword tightened and he swung it up in a clean slash of the air to point at the armored figure. "My apologies to you, but Devaronians...do not kneel. We are not peons. We are not weaklings. And, unlike you...we are not dead."

The word - or threat - was emphasized by a sudden surge of speed one would not likely expect from a man the size of Laoth. In a quick flash of movements, the giant of muscle lunged forward and swung his blade. Arcing through the air with screaming ferocity, the master-crafted sword was aimed for the gap between the man's helmet and chest plate, its wielder hoping that the hooked edge would manage to slice through the narrow space and cut open his throat. At the same moment, he yanked with the Force not unlike how the young Ishida was yanked by her master, cracking apart the earth that had previously been manipulated by his subtle effects. A large chunk of dirt and rock now soared through the air, careening directly for the leashed mouse.

 

[Michael Sardun]

Apprentice: Ishida Ashina
Foes: Laoth

WHY?!

BECAUSE OUR DUTY WEIGHS HEAVIER THAN YOUR FAILURE

Burned into angry mind.
Fury met with unyielding mountain.
Anger meets stoic kind
​

This silent exchange was what distracted Sardun.

Briefly.

This was all that Laoth needed to shift from language to action. This was all the beast needed to leap towards Michael with a killing blow in mind. His head snapped back towards the approaching mass.

Too late.

In this sheath of golden metal he did not move quickly. The blade came down, it hit home, and there Mad Horned Loath met a mountain of resolve. Michael did not waver, did not stumble back, no. The sword bit into the exposed flesh between plated mesh. It threatened to sever skin, fiber, meat, bone and throat.

Saw off and destroy.

The ring pulsed with a fury that Sardun did not possess itself. "You talk more than I do." Sardun said in spite of the blade in his throat. Gauntleted hand came down and gripped with Force that had nothing to do with muscle. And then the hammer came swinging down from the side. To smash with amplified Light, with measured destruction.

Blood trickled down his neck, but his flesh held. Sealed tight with the Light.

Now kneel.

The hammer came down to Laoth's knees, while the Jedi Master kept the Beast close with that same unyielding grip.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Walking Monsters: Kralmus Orr Dodhorn Harert
Fresh Meat: Cale Gunderson Aleksandr Stirsea

The woman’s quips of Kyrel being Sith enraged the undead warrior. As he treked through the jungle floor, he had shot her a look that only emphasized his hatred for her. He hated the Sith, for it was them that had swept him up into an eternal battle between dark and light. It was the Sith who made him what he was now, and it was the Sith who had controlled him like a lap dog. The Master of Ren swore to himself that if she got in the way of his kill he would not hesitate to end her. He kept walking in a faster pace, remembering the cannibal’s remark of this being a contest. Three hungry monsters seeking to indulge in the richness of midichlorian blood.

His heavy form kept trying to move as fast as he could possibly muster, driving by the desire of bloodlust and a rage that could only bring him a sense of peace. Finally emerging out of the jungle bushes hearing the cannibal speak, there he finally saw them more clearly. First his sights went to a one armed man, and what seemed to be a young boy. His fingers itchy, hovering over his signature lightsaber fighting the urge to rush them.

Even the remarks they made only further increased his aggression. Too long has he faced Jedi, and just like he had once in life he would destroy them. His eyes narrowed on the two, tension was high for the contest of who would be the first to kill them. Who would drain them of they’re flesh. The ladder of rage kept climbing up the rungs as he couldn’t stand and wait, even feeling the mysterious woman’s energy he only sought to beat her on what he viewed as his kills.

Finally the moment came when the two struck out. He watched as the sabers activated, and like all Masters and Apprentices they moved in unison. Both aiming to strike the Mandalorian down, the boy striking from below, and the Master moving with speed to strike through the Mandalorians armor. In that moment Kyrel’s own rage burst forth, using his raw might, he cause the ground beneath the Padawan to rise and hit him from below. With a yell Kyrel moved, his red blade snapped as he tried sweeping power strikes in an attempt to drive off the Jedi Master. The fight had begun, and the Wrath was determined in taking what he thought was his.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

LIGHT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING
SELVARIS | JUNGLES | APPROACHING OUTPOST
LIGHT THINKS IT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING
BUT IT IS WRONG
NO MATTER HOW FAST LIGHT TRAVELS,
IT FINDS DARKNESS HAS ALWAYS GOT THERE FIRST.
AND IS WAITING FOR IT.

Vengeance hungry and eager, she could see the beast’s death at her hand so quickly. She would startle him with a swipe at the gap above his girded waist, either puncture skin or cut through the leather strap that bound his pauldron. With that exposed, Sardun could move in and take advantage. By then, she’d already be behind the beast, and would go for his hamstring, he’d flail, or crackle with lightning, in either scenario he’d be brought to his kne ——

HYURK! Her breath whooshed through her as a shrill yawp of shock.

Heels whipped forward and shoulders shunted back. Her spine arched against herself. It was a sudden and humiliating intrusion, a violent rip backward before she could make the first of her swings. The whole urgent universe became a blur, a whirl of colours streaming away from her. Her sabre hummed loudly, cutting through the air as she sailed.

What was happening? Realization dawned halfway through her oblivious, horrified travel backward. Seconds before her knees slammed into the marshy grass, Ishida realized her master was yeeting her away from her opportunity for vengeance.

Like a feral, savage and caged animal, her mind bounced from corner to corner without escape. Furious thoughts twisted from one to the other, looping incomprehensibly. Overwhelming, clapping rage, consumed all thoughts and congested the ability for rationality to manifest.

Hindered by non-consentual humility, Ishida was forced to collapse on her knees.

"This is no fairy tale, where the heroine dashes off to get vengeance."

Ishida glared at the ground, her face red-hot. Laughter and unshakeable threats were exchanged in the air above her, and she felt her fists clench. Her nails were so tight to her palm, that little white crescent indentations were left behind.

Fury knotted her throat. The sounds of her own breath and the blood in her ears were too loud, her face too hot, her heart pounding too loudly to hear the first words Sardun spoke above and over her at the beast.

"I'm...I'm sorry," "I know, I should not be laughing...but...that's just...you really are...completely pathetic, little mouse. I mean, all Jedi are pathetic hypocrites, but you...getting leashed like that? Truly, you keep setting the bar lower."

Her lips were tight to her teeth, close to baring, and each breath she drew in and out hissed through her nose. Her muscles quivered, and when she tried to twist from her unseen binds, to shut the Devaronian up, she was met with strength she could not counter and forced to remain by her Master’s side. A tunnel burrowed into her chest cavity with dissolved, apoplectic speed.

This was an outrage! Humiliating! She struggled again, to no avail, and let a growl burn through her. The sound simmered until it puffed out with a pout.

All her emotion blinded her for what came straight for them. Laoth, with all his brutal might and Force, went straight to Sardun. Ishida felt her shackles disappear just in time to try and defend herself from the chunk of earth that made its way for her. Trying to think like Sardun, she met the hulking clump of dirt and stone with her blade.

But not only did they not think alike, but they also were not built alike.

Her sabre sizzled through the earth, but the intent of the devaronian was true. She’d barely hopped up from her knees when it slammed entirely against her and flung her back several feet. Bits of gritty debris stung her exposed skin, slicing it up, and the great weight of the rock knocked against her skull.

Temporarily, the world of green went black.

It was only a few seconds, but it was enough for Ishida to blink back to clarity to find the wind knocked from her. Uselessly, she heaved, fighting for air and rolling from her back to her side to assess how much distance she’d travelled, and how to best reinsert herself by her Master’s side.

On her own terms.

The jungle’s detail filled itself in after a few more blinks, and she groaned. Her landmark for distance was the soldier she’d held the hand of earlier, who’d watched her as he died.

“Not you again.” Ishida groaned.

---

NJO | GA | Michael Sardun

| Valery Noble | Cale Gunderson | Aleksandr Stirsea
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Laoth

| Kralmus Orr | Dodhorn Harert

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

JUNGLES OF SELVARIS
OBJECTIVE II

ENGAGING: Valery Noble

TAGS: Kralmus Orr Dodhorn Harert Ishida Ashina Laoth Kyrel Ren Aleksandr Stirsea Cale Gunderson

Equipment in bio.

HATRED
​

Ptolemis could already taste the death of his opponent. Mere meters remained between the crimson saber flying toward its target and the Jedi Master. But he was once again reminded of who he was dealing with.

The fierce guardian appeared to have completely immaterialized right before the expected impact, just for the right amount of time to hop backwards and miraculously phase across the saber, allowing the weapon to slice off two of his own fingers instead. The severed digits flew up and away, and the Sith Lord instinctively buckled under the sudden surge of searing pain, clutching the blackened wound, a barely audible gasp hollowing his lungs of all air. The extinguished saber rolled away behind him...

Not a second later, while still trying to simply comprehend what just happened, a ruthless Force push slammed into his body from the direction of the Jedi Master, carrying chunks of earth and dust on its unstoppable waves and sending his frame flipping, twisting, hurtling through the air, as if he was a man nailed to a gyroscope, until…

eeeEEEENOUGHHHHhhh​

His terrible voice blasted out like a sudden sonic detonation, and his body abruptly stopped in the air, levitating…. Like an aspect of death, he loomed in the air for a few seconds, blocking out the sun, his body facing the Jedi; his frightening glare a monument to malevolence, his eyes beneath the mask now flaring up in a terrible glow of neon purple. A soft thud – his dormant hilt collided with his palm. Allowing his psyche to submerge beneath the acute pain of his mutilated left hand, he dropped on the ground, and almost instantly, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over the clearing. The jungle around them creaked, and a foreboding shadow crept over the horizon.

He stared into the woman's soul and unleashed his boiling hatred. Chunks of earth scattered around him were picked up by the whirlpool of malice swirling around the Sith Lord. A protective envelope sprung up around him. His crimson saber erupted once again. He raised his arm as be began walking toward the Master to finally wipe her away completely with deafening strikes of lightning whipping out at her, and a quaking shockwave following up the hateful onslaught.

​

 

[Kralmus Orr]

Selvaris: Jungle Huntin' (Objective II)
​

Location: Selvaris, Deep Jungle
Allies: Dodhorn Harert | Kyrel Ren
Foes: Cale Gunderson | Aleksandr Stirsea

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus blocks Aleksandr's strike with the haft of his axe
• Kyrel saves him from getting impaled from behind
• Kralmus tries to push Aleksandr's blade aside, then aims a punch at his face

​

How'd I do? The snarky Jedi asked, slapping labels on his foes. Kralmus looked at his allies, then shrugged. "Pretty good, honestly."

It wasn't the first time he'd been called crazy, and it wouldn't be the last. By the standards of civilized society, he was. He totally disregarded all laws and social norms, and he placed no inherent value on life. He was a jungle predator clad in sentient flesh, living for the thrill of the hunt, the joy of killing and consuming. That was crazy, wasn't it? To be utterly atavistic, giving in to the animal inside him, was insane in the eyes of ordinary people. They lived their little lives in the safety of the tiny outposts of stability they'd created, spending their days working their meaningless jobs so that they could spend the evenings staring at their mass-media fantasies on a holoprojector.

A man who lived without that safety, who just took whatever he wanted and killed whoever got in his way, was mad to them.

Because if more people were like him, their precious little societies wouldn't work.

The other labels were even more obvious. It wasn't hard to guess that Kyrel was a being consumed by rage; even without a connection to the Force, Kralmus could feel the seething anger that roiled up from the Master of Ren, could read it in his body language and his monstrous eyes. As for Dodhorn being the most depraved of all, well, the jury was still out on that; she had some stiff competition. But the Jedi was right that she appeared far more refined than the other two, and if she could match them for wicked deeds and vile appetites, her apparent refinement made that all the more shocking to the likes of the lightsiders. And she could. Kralmus had seen her hunger; felt it, even.

Watching her call up beasts made out of blood from thin air pretty much solidified his faith in her utter depravity.

Dodhorn mockingly bade the Jedi to run, but they wouldn't, of course. The blond one was young, and high on the self-righteous certainty that heroes always win and the light always overcomes the darkness. Kralmus would enjoy watching the hope fade from his eyes in his last moments, when this sad little child realized that his vaunted Jedi Masters had lied to him about all of that. He would enjoy it almost as much as he enjoyed the taste of the padawan's flesh, seasoned by then with a delectable blend of saccharine arrogance and bitter despair. The other one was older, clearly the more experienced and dangerous of the two, and wise enough not to bother with running.

They were outnumbered and stranded in the jungle. They'd only die tired.

All at once, the little meeting exploded into violence. Good. Boring conversation anyway. The Jedi took their swings at Dodhorn's strange blood beasts and then kept on coming, with the padawan making a beeline for Kralmus. Perhaps they thought him the lesser threat, one that even the trainee among them could quickly take out of the fight before turning to face the Force-users. Well, the cannibal would disabuse them of that notion. As the blond Jedi's lightsaber swept in toward his legs, Kralmus moved his hand up the long haft of his songsteel-beskar axe, then thrust the spiked bottom of the haft into the ground. The result: the lightsaber slammed into it, rather than his lower half.

It was like the Jedi was striking a sparring post, except that Kralmus was holding the top.

​

The force of the impact ran up the Mandalorian's arms, a harsh, jarring vibration... but he was accustomed to such things, a veteran warrior who had parried many blows over his long fighting career, and his powerful muscles were more than up to the task of holding strong. But as he fended off the padawan's sudden attack, Kralmus left himself open to the blow of his master; though skilled at fighting multiple opponents, he could not counter two lightsabers flanking from different directions at once, especially when the Knight's movements were aided by Force speed. Fortunately, he did not fight alone. An instant before Cale's blade would have impaled Kralmus from behind...

... it was intercepted by Kyrel's glowing red saber as the Master of Ren leapt into the fray.

"Oh dear," the cannibal mocked, his visor level with Aleksandr's face. "That didn't go quite to plan, did it?" Pulling his axe from the ground, he heaved with all his might, trying to push the padawan's blade out away from his body and leave the young Jedi open. He didn't have the right angle to strike with the bottom spike while holding the saber at bay, and his hands were too high on the axe haft to swing it effectively, so he improvised. "What honorable Jedi you are," he sneered, "ganging up on the one you think is weakest, striking from behind. Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen." Letting go of the haft with his right hand, he aimed a vicious punch at Aleksandr's nose.

 

[Dodhorn Harert]

Dodhorn Harert, the Hellwolf of Mandalore
Alor of Clan Harert, Sith Lord, Former Mandalore the Ruthless​

Location: To awake, return to life
Location: Selvaris, Deep Jungle
Equipment: Simple black dress
Allies: Kralmus Orr | Kyrel Ren
Enemies: Cale Gunderson | Aleksandr Stirsea

[ We Drink Your Blood ]
<"Mandalorian or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tl;dr | translation

• One demon dies, the other tries to hid Kralmus from the two Jedi with an illusion.
• Dodhorn intervenes in the fight when Kralmus tries to hit Aleksandr.
• She tries to grab the Padawan and embrace him from behind while hold him to herself.
• She tries to wound him with her claws and to bite her neck to drink from his blood.

As they made their way to the Jedi, Dodhorn felt the rage and hatred of the mysterious man. Especially after the woman's words, it was all much more powerful in the Force. If she had had time, she would have tried to devour even those emotions, but now she was hungry for something else, for blood. And that was waiting there not so far away from them. And they arrived there soon.

She was glad the two Jedi reacted similarly, and they were able to fight with intrigue, sharp words. All this always entertained the woman.

She laughed softly at the man's "compliment." A predatory smile appeared on her lips again. She licked her lower lip softly like a predator watching their future dinner. Fortunately, in nearly two hundred years of her life, she learned how to control her hunger, how not to lose her patience. For now, she was able to think sober. But she already hears the three men's heartbeat, how the blood is flowing in their body…

"You have no idea how much, darling…" breathed with a pleasured tone.

Then the two Jedi attacked; apparently, they were both targeting Kralmus. The two demons were the first to be attacked. They also managed to kill one, but the other evaded the attack and immediately began casting a spell. With an illusion, the demon tried to make Kralmus disappear from the eyes of the padawan so that he would not see it. The success was highly doubtful, as the Padawan was also a Force user, but it was worth a try.

Dodhorn would have tried to attack the master when the other Sith attacked him. It was then left for the woman to protect the Mandalorian. She didn't care if the Sith died. She came from an age when the Sith did not have an alliance with each other but hated each other. The woman also had this upbringing. However, as Alor and former Mandalore, the protection of her people has ingrained her being.

The Hellwolf watched the events for a bit, and then when Kralmus was about to hit the young Jedi, the woman moved. She reached into the Force and accelerated her movement even more than her original speed. She appeared as a blurry spot behind the Padawan. With her clawed fingers, and with her hands, she tried to grab the boy so that he would not be able to move away from the blow of Kralmus, and with this movement she would also try to press the boy's two arms to his side, as she tried to hug him from behind.

If he had armour, she tried to grab it, tried to digging its claws into the boy's flesh where there were weak points in the armour. If it wasn’t like that, she was just trying to hug him around his neck and belly and squeeze him from behind with her superhuman strength, and here she would try to thrust her claws into the boy’s belly and shoulders, through the armour, or just through the flesh.

"I told you to run!" she told Aleksandr.

Then, if she was still able and Aleksandr's neck or collarbone was free, another smile would appear on her lips as she even looked at Kralmus, the woman's two canines stretched and became sharp, pointed. Then she tried to bite the Padawan's neck so she could finally taste his blood.

After all, a wolf never hunts alone and Dodhorn was never really interested in a fair fight…

 

[Lief]

That was really it?​

​

No big secret way to know, just... Feel in the moment, and trust in the Force, and hope you made the right decision? Sometimes his newfound life as a Jedi was far too metaphysical and philosophical for the boy who'd always had more tangible structure in his life. Aboard a ship there were rules and regulations, protocol to follow for almost every conceivable situation. This though?​

​

It felt too... Open ended.​

​

There wasn't exactly time to dwell on it though, not with that rising heat. Starlin was obviously feeling it too, though he took the time to explain what he was doing all the same. Something known as Tutaminis. Eliphas didn't rightly know what his Master had done, only that the heat seemed to dissipate around him.​

​

Down into the depths below the pair of them fell, and then the boy watched as the heat which had been building up above was released on the crowd of creatures they'd fallen among.​

​

He gawped for just a moment, staring at the back of Starlin's head.​

​

"Woah, wait, what, how did you do that?"​

​

At this point the man was already cutting a hole through the door of the laboratory, so Eliphas took the time to observe the burned creatures on the ground. Heat still swelled down from above, and sweat had formed over every bit of the boys skin. His clothes were sticking, and he felt well and truly miserable as a result.​

​

The door was soon burned open, and the pair came face to face with what he could only imagine to be his Master's worst nightmare.​

​

Flying arachnids...​

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Starlin Rand Tu'teggacha Silas Westgard ​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

​

Location: Selvaris, Deep Jungle
Not Pals: Kralmus Orr | Dodhorn Harert , Kyrel Ren
Pals: Aleksandr Stirsea

"Just process of elimination big guy don't take it so personal." Cale grunted in response to the flesh-hungry Mandalorian, straining against the onslaught of the Master of Ren. Instinctively Cale wanted to match him blow for blow, harness the might of the force, and let the jungle around them deal with the aftermath, but instinct could not always be relied upon when hard-learned lessons showed otherwise.

"See he's taking it personally too, come on." He muttered, stimstick falling from his lips as his blade again met Kyrel's. Barbed remarks weren't a staple of his fighting, they hadn't been for a long time, but the grizzled Jedi couldn't help himself. They weren't looking to be saved, and he wasn't looking to save them. He knew when to fold, and when to not bother playing.

Cale flowed like water, blue and red cascaded against one another in a shower of sparks, the Jedi redirecting and parrying with practiced efficiency. But he wasn't fighting alone anymore, he couldn't simply zone in on his battle alone. That came with being a master.

The Jedi ducked under another blow, the angry hum of the Darksider's blade singing the air where his head had been a moment prior. He shot forward, wide of the Ren, and harnessed the all surrounding energy into a blast of kinetic force into the Hellwolf in an effort to stop the surge for his Padawan short of an otherwise lethal hold.

Speed and coordination were all that was going to keep them alive, thus they needed to keep both in check.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective B: The Ebruchized
Lief Silas Westgard Tu'teggacha
​

He could feel Eli giving him a look of incredulity, but there was no time to elaborate on his bullshit speech. Not much time to explain Tutaminis, either, so when Eli asked—

"Woah, wait, what, how did you do that?"

—Starlin’s reply was “Tutaminis! I’ll teach you later!”—

—followed by “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” as Tu’teggacha sent in the Skitterwings.

Now, Starlin had fought at Lao-mon. It was one of the harshest defeats he’d ever suffered, an experience he'd never forget. The Skitterwings weren’t really anything new to him. Unfortunately, he also really, really, really hated spiders, so his only thought upon spotting one was that he needed to get as far away from the flying spider-bat-nightmare-creatures as possible.

“MOTHERFETHER!”

The realization that he’d underestimated his enemy’s ability to spell, and had thus led them into a trap, had nothing to do with him turning tail and running in the opposite direction of the open door. He slaughtered Ebruchized in his haste to flee, his incoherent screaming and flailing causing a few of the mutants to pause in their gibbering out of confusion. Was he one of them? Nah, he wasn’t blue. (Speaking of, do the Ebruchized attack each other?)

Starlin tore through their ranks and emerged on the other side of the horde, having sliced a panicked path down the hall until he reached a crossroads. Groanings of monsters and the stench of charred flesh surrounded him as he looked around, panting, trying to sense which way to go.

That was when he spotted another labeled door with another alternate way of spelling laboratory, and another, and another. It occurred to him then (not for the first time) that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Eli!” he called out to his apprentice. “How do you spell ‘laboratory’?”

 

[Orn'om]

Liedran Kathause | CETCOM | Constantine Oliva​

Operation Glacier
Chiss Expansionary Defense Force​

COPERO DEFENSE FORCE
1000+ Meters Breath of Vengance Lightbringer Icebreaker Roar of War
100-1000 Meters Several Steadfast-Class Heavy Cruisers
Fighter Compliment Clawcraft Fangcraft Gunships

Taking center stage within the Chiss Fleet, the Breath of Vengance was easily the largest vessel out of all present in the space above Copero. Its megamaser cannons firing into the Maw's defenses and spectrum lasers cutting down fighters, it cut like a dagger through the stars. Orn'om's eyes narrowed as the Maw vessels seemed to focus on the smaller alliance frigates. For a long while he simply sat in his chair, watching the progress of the invasion down below, ignoring the turbolaser and starfighter sounds as his crew took care of the battle. The Alliance seemed to have not taken this battle nearly as seriously as he would have hoped. To take a shipyard as important as Copero from within enemy territory and to only send a single destroyer? What if they had left battlecruisers here to defend the shipyard? They were lucky they hadn't.

"Mid Captain Fumakro, what are the status of Lightbringer and Icebreaker?" The young Mid Captain looked up from his readouts and then quickly back down to the display, nodding to himself sharply before giving an answer.

"All green. Most of our forces have been completely ignored." Orn'om chuckled. They saw them as a token force did they?

"Order both of them to concentrate fire of their main guns on the lead Tyrant-Class Destroyer. They are moving on our smaller allies. I don't recognize the weapon they're using though. Regardless, it looks to be a close-range weapon. Fire at will." It didn't take long for the orders to be relayed to the two Commodores running the vessels. Over the aural sensors and translated through speakers in the bridge the sound of the two Peltast's main weapon firing resounded with a teeth-rattling roar as the semi-kinetic bolt of blue flew through the darkness of space, trailing like a blue comet across the battlefield. When the bolts both passed the viewport of the bridge Orn'om snapped into action.

"Full speed ahead, leave the escorts behind. Prepare a full salvo of breacher missiles and plasma spheres. It's time we end this. Two destroyers shouldn't hold up to the full might of our firepower." The gunners assigned to Man-of-War vessels could never be average, the ships were too valuable an asset. So when the order came down to their crews the breachers were set and the sphere liquid loaded. The Chiss lieutenant in command checked the firing solutions via an implant, the text and numbers running across his red irised eyes and processing in seconds. He nodded his approval. Massive spherical globules of sparking plasma roared from their cannons and hurtled towards the destroyers even as the Chimera Man-of-War flew towards them in an attempt to rescue the smaller Alliance ships. Acid-filled breacher missiles flew from salvos in the Breath's underbelly, streams of white smoke following them as they screamed towards external systems and vulnerable patches of hull to deliver their hull chewing acid payloads.

More orders. Megamasers opened up on both sides of the Breath's prow as it approached the two enemy vessels. The heavy cruisers struggled to keep pace, their maser cannons and spectrum lasers picking off fighters and ordinance that flew too close to their mother ship. Behind them, the Roar of War, an older battlecruiser, stayed behind to escort the twin Peltasts, already loading for another volley at the two Maw destroyers. Orn'om's fingers gripped the arms of his chair tightly, so tightly that the tips began to lighten to a sky blue.

Copero would be his.

 

[Valery Noble]

Location: Selvaris
Valery: Appearance
Outfit: Factory Link
Weapon: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Tag: Darth Ptolemis

ENOUGH!

With all the pressure Valery had put on him from the moment he had thrown his weapon, the masked Sith had been given very little time to breathe. Two of his fingers were severed and before he had a chance to properly respond and adapt to it, she had used the Force to send him flying uncontrollably. But with his scream of pure rage, he commanded the Force to stop himself in mid-air the way only those tainted by the Dark Side could. He wasn't using the mysterious source of strength as an ally, but as a tool controlled by his will and hatred.

His hateful, purple eyes then connected with her fiery orange and the battle between Dark and Light really started to rise in intensity. She could feel his intense malice as strongly as he felt her fiery determination, and now both sides drew on their prowess with the Force. Around the imposing Sith, a bubble of Force energy formed, produced by his anger, and the whole environment began to respond violently.

Rocks were swirling around him, debris was turned into dangerous projectiles, and arcs of lightning lashed out at anything that moved in his immediate area. It forced Valery to shift the double-bladed lightsaber into her right hand alone, allowing her to form a blue funnel of Force energy within the palm of her left hand, a focal point much like the one he had used himself earlier. But rather than absorbing a lightsaber blade, she siphoned in the arcs of lightning that were unleashed towards her.

However, due to how powerful they were, and how chaotically they lashed out, the energy of the lightning could not easily be converted entirely. Electricity sparked through her arm, causing the woman to grit her teeth while she stood strong in the face of her angered opposition. But no matter the pain or the intensity of the attacks, she would never back down.

Then, while she gathered energy from the lightning, he finally unleashed the second half of his attack — a powerful shockwave traveled between the two Force-users, destroying everything in its path. Seeing it, Valery disengaged her weapon instantly and extended both hands forward to shield herself with a powerful Barrier. The lethal energy of the shockwave was absorbed on impact, but the sheer force knocked her back several feet until she fell down onto her rear.

But as the dust of the attack began to settle, it became evident that she hadn't been the only target. Whether intentional or not, the data center had been struck as well, and she could feel that many of those hiding inside were hurt or gone completely.

"It's best you retreat while you still can," Valery said as she hopped up to her feet, her eyes briefly scanning the burnt flesh of her arm before they settled back on the Sith Lord. His attack had not angered the Jedi Master at all, but there was definitely a shift in intensity within her eyes. The two violet blades then ignited again and the two stood face-to-face.

"Because I'm not going anywhere,"

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Sword of the Tenth | The Panoply
Tags: Michael Sardun | Ishida Ashina
Location: Selvaris| The Ebruchized​

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The outcomes of combat were never a certainty, no matter the bravado or strength of the combatants. In fact, both were often the reason that the outcomes were as fluid and changeable as they were. Both affected the success of strategy and tactics far more than they were themselves affected. Thus, despite Laoth assuming that the outcome of this battle would be his victory, it was not a certainty. And his expectation that his sword would cut open the throat and kill the armored man before him was not a certainty. This was proven perhaps no more strongly than when the man's throat was cut, but he reacted barely more than just a grunt.

Wait...no...no his throat was not cut. In fact, it had barely been scratched, the Force of Light holding together his sinew and muscle and bone with as much pressure as a Rancor's grip on a piglet. Laoth bit back a curse and choked down a gasp, his crystal blue eyes glaring down at the armored man with furious resolve even as his great hammer burning with the Light cracked into view from the man's side.

The Devaronian snarled as he attempted to pull back in time before the clearly intended strike hit its mark, but found that both he and the sword had been held in place by nothing more than pure willpower of the universal power. Time stopped to a fraction of its speed, punishing the would-be slayer of Light to watch the entire event play out in spite of his efforts. The hammer swung in a blazing arc of fury towards him, angled low enough to strike at his knees and force him to kneel as the armored man had demanded. A myriad of curses swelled to his brain. Damn you's, frack you's, go to hell's. He would not kneel. He could not kneel. He was Devaronian! Devaronian's. Do. Not. Kneel.

Laoth roared as time resumed to its normal pace, and with a surge of inhuman power, wrenched his blade and himself free from the armored man's grasp just as the hammer struck his knees. Only by virtue of his alchemized physique did his bones not shatter into pieces and splinters. And only by the shunting of his blade against the earth to keep himself aloft as he spun with the impacting momentum of the strike did the beast remain bent, but unkneeling. His reaction was instantaneous. Gripping the hilt of his sword, the Devaronian unleashed a surge of power from his palms, darkness of an unholy kind seeping into the very roots of the planet around them. Then, with a curve of both body and blade, Laoth spun around to meet the armored man once more and carved open the very earth in an upward swing.

"First, I will kill you!" he exclaimed as the blade traveled. "Then, I will kill that failure you call Padawan!"

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

JUNGLES OF SELVARIS
OBJECTIVE II

ENGAGING: Valery Noble

TAGS: Kralmus Orr Dodhorn Harert Ishida Ashina Laoth Kyrel Ren Aleksandr Stirsea Cale Gunderson

Equipment in bio.

HATRED
​

A vortex of danger, the Sith Lord was. Force-accelerated debris flung violently about in the air, whizzing barely past the Jedi Master, only to circle around Darth Ptolemis and begin another cycle of destruction. Thunderous strikes blasted from his fingertips, and he kept on advancing toward his nemesis. One step. Two steps. Three steps. With purposeful momentum the Jedi stuck out an arm at him, and the electrostatic arcs collided with her palm again and again, banging on her display of defiance, pushing her to the absolute limit. Ptolemis' hatred ultimately crashed down on her in a crescendo of ruin, manifesting in the form of a Force blast that pushed the Jedi away, sending her stumbling to the ground.

The Masked Man stopped. The spinning pieces of dislodged earth dropped from the air and tumbled far. His protective shell was swept away in the wind. In the interim calm before the storm that was Lord Ptolemis, an eerie silence rolled over the land, and visions of death crept in from the direction of the data center. For a moment nobody talked; only his crimson lightsaber sung, hissing a repetitive melody that was both serene and utterly terrifying.

"It's best you retreat while you still can," Valery said as she hopped up to her feet, her eyes briefly scanning the burnt flesh of her arm before they settled back on the Sith Lord.

The sense of peace emanating from her weighed heavy on Ptolemis' soul; clawing at his throat, kicking him, trying hard to drag him down. Despite his oppressive will, she endured the pressure. Courageous. In balance.

Her violet double blades ignited, and their eyes locked.​

"Because I'm not going anywhere,"

The Sith Lord needed to wound her and do it soon, as he had exerted himself considerably with his maelstrom of hate, and could only channel the pain of his butchered hand for so long. Holding his profaned lightsaber at a low angle in his right hand, he slowly raised his device of death to waist level, aimed it at the Jedi and responded. – Hand over the files, phantom. Or I'll bury you alive. – His words plain and sincere, as if delivering mundane truths. He began walking… Then the walk turned into running, and in a sudden shift of speed, he dashed at the Jedi, a mass of shadow barreling toward her, accentuated by flashes of red. Ptolemis began his offensive with a quick jab at her forward planted foot, but he placed no real weight into the thrust. It was the foreword to his real plan of attack; a subsequent jumping spin around his axis and a wound-up strike from above aimed straight at her head. Only a quick-thinking master of the blade could anticipate his confusing moves, yet due to her previous display of prowess he wouldn't be surprised if the Jedi Master could block both attacks.

…But blocking an overhead attack would leave her lower body open – which was his goal from the very beginning.
To deliver a brutal kick to her knee and crush her strong foundations once and for all.

​

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Copero, the tunnels
Objective: B, The Ebruchized
Tags: Tu'teggacha / Starlin Rand / Lief

The shining red blades of the elite guard glowed with menacing intent in the hands of the warriors. Slowly but surely, all three spread out and surrounded him in a triangle formation. Silas kept his eyes on the talking alien with a clenched jaw, his lightsaber raised in a guard just in case any of the sith around him decided to take a chance "If the Jedi didn't believe in my abilities they wouldn't have sent me here. Think again..." he shot back to his claim. Silas wasn't a defenseless kid anymore, but a trained peacemaker whose goal was to stand up for those who couldn't.

"Well keep imagining, you will never use me for your sadistic experiments. Nor will you anyone else..." he shot back to the alien who was seemingly making a grand escape away from the unexpected visitor. Before leaving, he ordered the elite guards to kill him and take a sample of his blood for future experiments. There was no way that was going to happen, and as the mastermind behind this operation slithered away into his hole it only seemed like he wasn't going to have the honor of watching the intruder getting cut down.

Keeping locked on the spot he took a deep breath and gazed at all the figures around him, anticipating for them to strike him at any moment "What are you waiting for, you heard your master" he bravely said to the three, a false grin forming on his lips. There was no way he was going to win this engagement, in many things they outmatched him greatly. Other than speed, they had complete superiority over him.

Suddenly, the guard closest to him slashed at his hips, while the others came closer to cut him down just in case he decided to move their way. Silas eyes widened and swiftly met the lightsaber with his own, locking them in a stalemate for a few seconds. He knew one of the other two were going to strike at any moment, something needed to be done and fast. Flicking his hand up to his chest he suddenly used the force to pull down on the air vent above, sending cold steam onto all the figures below.

In the hopes it would disorientate and blind them for a few precious seconds Silas swiftly jumps backward from the death triangle and stumbles towards experimental tubes filled with disfigured bodies. Right now he had to stand his ground in the hopes Jedi arrived, otherwise he'd cut into pieces and used them as part of their newest horror experiments. Raising his blue saber in a defensive stance, he slowly kept backing away, not allowing the guards to surround him once again.

"Come on... keep it together Silas" he encouraged himself, using the force to throw a number of lab equipment in their direction. Right now, keeping them at bay was the only option...

 

[Tren Chaar]

D E N I A L _ R E D U X

COPERA
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

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Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Two: FLT Olly Piblarian Galactic Alliance RADM Constantine Oliva CDRE Liedran Kathause Chiss Ascendency ADM Orn'om Brotherhood of the Maw CETCOM Spoiler: Summary -One Flight reach the shipyard and commence their bombing run

The twelve starfighters of Revenant Squadron fell on the Brotherhood-controlled shipyards. TIE fighters streaked from hanger bays to intercept the A-wings, B-wings and X-wings as point defence turrets opened fire. Chaar has planned on using the fast-moving interceptors to Three Flight to draw the enemy gunners into revealing themselves, but they seemed more than willing to give away their positions. All the more easier for Revenant.

Chaar’s battle computer identified the turrets, calculated approached vectors based on known weaknesses and blindspots, and fed the data to the B-wings of One Flight. Revenant Three and Four peeled to starboard to begin their bombing run on the auxiliary shipyard, leaving the main prize to Chaar and his wingmate.

The defending Golan Platforms and Tyrant-class Star Destroyers turned their attention to the Galactic Alliance fleet bearing down on them, succeeding in eliminating an Alliance frigate. Chaar’s interest in the destruction of Alliance materiel was limited to the twelve starfighters under his command - if the training or standards of other formations was not up to scratch, perhaps it was better they were removed from the battlefield to avoid getting in the way of the elite units.

The forward shields of the B-wings soaked up the turbo laser flak spraying from the surface of the shipyards, the small strike fighters moving too far for the slow tracking weapons emplacements to maintain a lock on them. “Stay tight,” Chaar ordered Piblarian as they drew near to the gargantuan manufacturing hubs and levelled out parallel with their surface. The Umbaran strafed left and right between gantries, cranes, and incomplete starships hulls as he drew nearer to his target.

A bulbous megastructure appeared over the artificial horizon of the shipyard’s spacedocks. Anti-starfighter fire doubled and then tripled as the Brotherhood gunners weapons what the B-wings and their heavy payloads were targeting - the main reactor. Chaar's computer chimed to inform him that a squadron of TIE fighters was vectoring to intercept them. They would only have a few minutes to complete their mission.

“Target the secondary generator,” Chaar explained to his wingmate as he switched his weapons of ion cannons. He depressed the firing stud on his control yoke and began pounding away at the primary shield generator with ion cannon fire. Once the protective shield was down, the kill would be theirs.