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Location: Omega Hangar.
Objective: Secure the Hangar as well as possible.
Allies: [member="Kierel"], [member="Doc"], [member="Wolf"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="CT-47B"]
It was difficult for the White Wolves Regiment to get their transports onto the Omega. The Sith's superweapon had plenty of protection from all directions. Directly past it were the rest of the multiple fleets that were fighting to either claim or destroy it. Perhaps they'd all agree on destroying it, but in that case, everyone on the Omega was going to have to get off somehow. Else, the combined forces of the Mandalorians, First Order, Galactic Republic, Galactic Alliance and their allies were going to kill everyone on board.
That's what he was here for.
The way the other First Order operatives had gotten onto the Omega? A'sharad had assumed it would've been secured by now, but when the first five shuttles got there ahead of his own shuttle, naturally (the first people in a boarding party were likely fodder), his suspicions had been found to be true when he sensed the presence of both Sith and Sith Troopers alike. "We secure the Hangar," the Sith High Colonel had ordered over the encrypted communications line of the White Wolves Regiment. "We hold it for as long as we can." Most responses were clicks, others were blaster fire and explosions that had killed the faster units. And then A'sharad touched down.
The ramp opened, and he batted the first bolt that came to him back to where he came.
Behind him, dozens of troopers came out to fire on the overlooking balconies as they made a hard break for the crates and support columns that would act as security.
"First Order Operatives," he said on what he hoped was the line they were using. His cold voice was strong, cutting through the static the close calls with the blaster bolts caused. "You have an avenue of esca-" Static cut out that part. "Confirm."
Location: Omega, Reactor 2 Affiliation:The New Republic and her allies Objective: Destroy Reactor 2, defeat the Sith, leave with all limbs intact... Nearby: [member="Zark"], [member="Elpsis Elaris"] [member="Thoja Arlos"]
Dax appreciated the sudden bolts of blue coming from behind him, dropping several of the Stormtroopers before him. The fire support gave Dax some breathing room in the all to suffocating dark aura of the Sith. A truly awe inspiring battle waged in the space of the reactor room. Jedi and Sith and Force only knew who else duked it out in an epic display of Force powers, saber wielding, and marksmanship.
Extracting the glowing blade of his saber from the stomach of another trooper Dax turned bringing the saber to spin around with him, beheading another trooper who had wandered a foot too close to the deadly display of golden light. Pressing forward towards the Sith, now engulfed in flame, Dax felt the heat radiating from the illustrious flames that left nothing in their wake. Spotting Zark nearby attempting to hold the Sith in Stasis and the glorious blaze beginning to die out to embers Dax leapt high in the air above the Sith. Like a predator who pounced on its prey Dax hoped to crash down on the enemy with such swiftness she wouldn't have time to react. Yet there was the feeling in the back of his mind that he tried to push out. The feeling that said the hunter will become the hunted.
The Stormtrooper Lark had tortured lasted longer than he thought he would. About a minute and a half. Far longer than Lark had wanted it to take. He'd have to revise his torture methods. He finally found his way to the Heart of Darkness, as the trooper had described it. A cold more chilling than the one on Castameer wrapped up Lark like a blanket, and he wore it like a robe. He gazed upwards, and could feel a great darkness from high up above. Below lay an eternal pit of nothingness. An eerie calmness took over him as he fully realized his surroundings. And he embraced it.
Alas, he was not safe here. He heard issues of challenges to those above, blaster fire continued to echo throughout the ship. Lark wanted to marvel in the wonders of the ship, but those damned Stormtroopers wouldn't allow it. He returned fire, and attempted to climb up the catwalks that led upwards. Some were broken.
Lark had no idea how he'd be able to scale this on his own. He was not the main target of the assault from the troopers, but even two or three firing at him hindered his ability to move up. But he'd find a way, somehow. He had managed to make it into the Omega after all.
An explosion rocked the ship, shaking Lark out of his makeshift barrier that he had been hiding behind. Luckily it tripped up the troopers as well, and Lark reacted quicker, taking them down with a few well placed shots. He had barely advanced when more took their place. Lark's hearing went nearly silent as he took cover, and once more he looked up. Somebody was probably watching him, but why should they care about him? He was literally nobody. He couldn't use the force, he was as dangerous to them as a flower was to a rancor.
He smiled a tranquil smile anyways, for he had never been more at peace.
Daxton's challege was cut short as he stumbed his knees. Struggling for breath, he could feel a great weight pressing down on him as his heart ceased to beat. The sabers fell to the ground as the numbness creeped in, then the Sith collapsed face first on the metal catwalk.
Was his part in the battle over? Was it time to shift to the next clone host that waited in hiding? Was he going to accept such an ignoble defeat?
Before any of these questions could be answered, the emergency diagonistics of his armor detect the cardiac arrest and charged up to give a direct jolt to his chest. Daxton jerked as the electric pulsed through his body, which in turn triggered the orbalisk colony to inject powerful stimulants into his blood stream.
Pulling himself to his feet, his limbs shook from the effort and he gritted his chattering teeth as he got his bearings. Once his knees stopped quaking, his blades would rise and ignite in orbit around him. He would use the Force to spring upwards to the next catwalk and move closer to his prey.
From the safety of the next catwalk, he reached out with Force Tentacles and secured [Member="Wolf"] and [member="Doc"], drawing them to safety before continuing his progress upwards, leaping effortlessly from catwalk to catwalk like a nimble feline predator. Not bothering to stop to see if they were ok or if they followed him.
Location: Central Control Allies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] (? ); First Order Enemies: Rogue Sith
“If I die in there, you should know I never once had the urge to kill you,”
The touch followed by that words had a certain dose of warmth despite the woman's general icy cold presence. Out of all the things, he could've said, all the ways he could've reacted, he simply chuckled. Jude found the humor even then, at such a dire situation. No. Matsu had dug that humor out of him. It was such an oxymoron that could not be described with words. Nor did Jude have the luxury of time to delve into that. Could he trust her words ? Yes ? No ? Did it even matter ? For some very odd, incomprehensible reason, a certain dose of calmness rose within. Even if it was just a drop, it was still there.
Some things you can never explain with words. Never.
As the two entered the control room, they were all back to reality. Whatever moment was shared earlier, it was gone as a dust in the wind. All was replaced with chaos and death.
And transformation.
Whatever craving feeling he had noticed from Matsu and whatever amount of darkness he had initially seen emitted from the woman was nowhere near as dreadful as what it transformed into next. The gruesome killing of the soldiers earlier was certainly a grotesque to the eyes, but what was happening now was beyond measure to all the senses. Jude's survival instincts had kicked in and he tried to make his presence as small as possible behind the woman as she slowly, but with immense confidence stepped forward to the apparent man with authority in the room.
The blasters and literal mini-war going in the room was of the least of his concerns to Jude and none at all for the two superpowers that were evidently going to clash soon. The rather challenging dialogue between the two ended with the agent's heart skipping a beat at the revelation of Matsu's previously unknown identity.
“And I am Darth Yaomo,”
For good or for bad, via his mentalist skills, Jude realized that his presence was, more or less, ignored. It was between the two Sith Lords to duke it out now. Death was nothing for them, no. They were beyond the dread of death as the soldiers and Mandalorians in the room that fell every moment. For those two Sith Lords this was simply...a culling of the weak. Jude's agent's training kicked in when he capitalized on the chaos for the First Order's gain.
The agent, with a rather surprising dose of confidence and professionalism, ran through from cover to cover in an attempt to find a terminal to hijack. Tapping into the Force with all his strength, he attempted to minimize the importance of his presence to everybody in the room. The perks of mentalism.
If he was able to reach a terminal or a slot successfully, Jude would attempt to gain control of the ship. Complete control, if possible, if not he would satisfy himself with partial. If none would occur, he would have to find out a different purpose.
Either ways, every step from cover to cover, every second in this chaos felt as an eternity. That was how critical, on a galactic scale, this whole situation was. The simple rebellious boy from Lorrd in the middle of a galactic event that could shake the foundations of the galaxy, an event, no matter of its outcome, that would be forever sealed in history. Somehow, within the anarchic mixed feelings that ran from his head to his toes, Jude felt like smirking.
There was certainly more than just a drop of irony, oxymoron, and romanticism in this play.
CENTRAL CONTROL
Allies: [member="Jude Falkrowe"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Ordo"]
[member="Kith Verloren"]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhktGZ0eX10
--------------------
"Roger that, vod," Krenis commented into his comms as he ducked beside a doorway besides the control room. It was lit with blaster fire. More blaster fire than he had probably heard since the Clone Wars. He peeked around the doorway and then ducked back behind the durasteel. He needed much more firepower than a rifle could get him. Ideally, he'd have a repeating blaster, but that wasn't possible at this point, so he would have to make do with what he had.
Which was a sonic rifle that could go omnidirectional and a satchel full of high explosive charges. Not grenades, and designed for remote detonation, but that was enough to work with. Then the Sith appeared and started talking. Two Darths now, which was great, and theoretically, one was on their side.
Feth. Feth. Feth. The new Sith just raised all the dead bodies in one move. Sith were evil. Anyone who argued otherwise was delusional, a bit like his earlier opponent. That made Krenis pause for a moment. Where was the poor fool? Cut down by another Sith? Vaporized in space? Riddled with blaster holes? With all the options, Krenis couldn't actually find the means to care.
"Vod," Krenis added, seeing where Ordo was going guns blazing at the troopers and Sith. "Mission first. Kill later. I've got omnidirectional sonic weaponry capabilities. Should put down all hostiles within the center area. Sith including but-" He paused, trying to think of the word for what he just saw. He had none. "They have surprises. Don't want to catch you."
Then he caught sight of another figure, moving from computer to computer until reaching towards a terminal. "Moving to cover friendly slicer. Sonic ready to activate on your mark."
The question was how to get there and how to get there fast. He ran through system diagnostics again. Repulsor pack was barely functional, but would be enough. He switched the Westar to automatic and lined up his flight. A group of stormtroopers caught his notice. Yes, there were engaged in the fight against Ordo and the zombies, but they hunkered in one area, surrounding a group of officers working at terminals. Working furiously, in fact.
They were running the ship, in charge of whatever it was doing now as it rotated. Castameer, apparently. He marked them in his HUD and sent the information to Ordo before hitting the repulsor controls. Krenis jerked up off the air, barreling straight forward, leaving a trail of flames and sparks scattering behind him. Heat seared across his back, but he bit his lip and ignored it. Aiming for the cluster of stormtroopers and officers, he squeezed the Westar's trigger, shooting a barrage of blue plasma.
A grenade would be nice, but given the shipboard nature, he had elected to leave them behind. Nothing as bad as spacing yourself on accident by blowing a hole in the hull.
Then he slammed into the ground next to the other man (Jude). He landed with a clatter and a bang before pushing himself to his elbows.
"Access the computer!" Krenis yelled, his voice deadened by the helmet. "I've got your six."
He tapped a button on his gauntlet, and the din'uul flared into existence at maximum width. Blaster bolts already began to sizzle against the small deflector shield, but Krenis snarled and snapped back another barrage of blaster bolts.
This was madness. A good madness worthy of the Mandalorians, a madness of battle and impossible odds. Warriors standing in the line between their home and annihilation. That was the essence of the Mandalorian way. Not war for war's sake as the old beliefs claimed or some worship of war as a deity. It was a warrior spirit fueled by the love of one's vod, one's family, wherever they might find themselves through the galaxy and whomever might wish to harm them.
Mhi b'verda Mandalore,
Mhi be a'den aru'e,
Mhi b'verda Mandalore,
Par cyare buir
I am a warrior of Mandalore,
I will show my enemy no mercy,
I am a warrior of Mandalore,
For the love of my father.
The old words of the song echoed through his mind as the dead rose at Dark commands and poor copies of he and his brothers tried to kill him. It was a rain of blaster fire now, many battering against the deflector shield, others searing through the terminals on either side of him. The shield would last only minutes. If this other man couldn't get in for that time, Krenis would have to start taking the shots on his armor. It would hold, for a time.
He gritted his teeth, letting the Westar drop to hang from his shoulder, and raised the Death Rattle carbine. He fired one shot, a wave of sound punching through stormtroopers, terminals, and whatever zombies had found themselves in his way.
"Better hurry," Krenis grunted, as another bolt struck the shield square. He felt his arm give under the impact. Something popped, and his hand went limp behind the shield. It was broken, he could tell as pain soared through his arm and into the rest of his body. If they failed, his family would die. His second family now, his first one corrupted, their souls crushed beneath the orders of Palpatine. It wasn't just the Jedi Order he destroyed with Order 66. The spirit of the clones died that day too. But never again. Never again would the Sith destroy his family.
She stood there back against the wall there was movement as she assumed sith troops heading to her location from both sides, just as she was choosing her course of action Cole's message broke through again.
He was alone, outnumbered, and had less than she did right now. It was almost a given that they were going to die here. But there was a bunch of activity by her two women and a guy none of whom she recognized, she stepped away from the walls to look at them, "you're here for the sith...I want the reactor...I have..this grenade and one missile left in my arsenal and I got someone at Reactor 1 alone. If you can distract the Sith, I can use the last missile on the reactor. But then I'd ask for any grenades you might have so I can go and save my friend...my brother in arms.."
There wasn't going to be a lot of talking right now not with the Sith slowly loping towards them, but she had to make a choice and she had to try and save Cole, her conscience would bother her an eternity if she did not.
She wanted to tell Cole she would be there soon, but she didn't know how all of these folks would react to her...she looked through her T at them as they moved around to gain their position and work through their plan.
That was when she noticed the FU around her were already engaging the Sith..fine if the Sith was distracted then now was the time..
She darted inside the reactor room, shooting at the troopers as they moved to carry out their own orders to stop them..Arla needed to make sure the Sith was not focused on her, even still she only had one shot to get the reactor.
Protecting our group's left flank was a hard job. I had to maneuver in a tight space with a big double-bladed lightsaber. Very difficult. So I wound up keeping it in a very perpendicular position with the ground, angling it as needed to deflect incoming blaster bolts. Which there were a lot of.
Eventually I settled into a nice, easy rhythm, a constant drawing on of the Dark Side to help sustain me and my concentration, stepping over the troopers that Wolf took out at as the spearhead of our group. It all passed in a blur. I had to trust my teammates in doing their jobs, which I was confident they would do, but I was worried about letting them down whilst doing mine. I wanted to prove to them that this Acolyte of Ren was capable of carrying out their requests and wouldn't endanger anyone in the process. That I could handle responsibility even as a weaker Force user. That was my sole motivator for the long trek upwards. Don't let myself down. Don't let them down.
There came a time when I was snapped out of my repetitive task. I felt a flicker in the Force, a sort of premonition. All it said was: JUMP!
So that's what I did. I Force Leaped to the end of the catwalk we were currently on, the metal giving out beneath me. My feet left the ground and I soared through the air, hand outstretched for the nearest railing. I grabbed the base of a railing attached to the part of the catwalk left standing. Hanging by one hand, I looked down. It was a rather steep drop into durasteel. One I did not look forward to making. So I turned around and started to haul myself up, hooking my lightsaber to my belt in order to better climb. I hauled myself over the edge and rolled away from it, shooting to my feet and drawing my lightsaber again, igniting it. I looked around for troopers that were shooting in my allies' directions. I would stand guard until we all regrouped and could push forward again.
Tiland nodded in return as the Dark Jedi and First Order stormtroopers began their assault up the catwalks. He had to respect their tactical ingenuity and teamwork. It was well thought out on such a short notice, with the Dark Jedi serving as guards for the stormtroopers to return fire. Indeed, it was quite clever, and the Alliance might find themselves in a tough spot if the neighboring powers went to war. But now was not the time for that. This was the time for cooperation.
Then the other Dark Jedi who had challenged someone to a duel simply collapsed under a wave of dark power, sending a shudder down Tiland's spine. Never before had he seen such power. This did not appear to becoming a battle of blades and blasters, but of the Force itself.
And in this case, he was outmatched. Tiland could see no way around that fact, and yet the Force had brought him here for a reason. No lightsaber, no truly powerful esoteric Force powers, no armor. Just himself, his quarterstaff, and... the Force. That would be the only strength he had in this case. A healer and martial artist.
But there was another option if all else failed. He could save the world by selling his soul. His proboscises could still be brought forth, open and available to try and drink this Sith's soup. The thought sent coils of nausea rippling up his body. It was his worst fear, but if that was what became necessary.
Then the catwalk was crushed and the strike team began to fall. A few were caught, but he could see little else he could do from the bottom. There was something he could yet do, to divert attention from the attack force. But they would need support.
"Help them," Tiland said slowly, voice grave, as he knelt on the ground, resting the staff across his lap. "I will draw fire."
It was times like these that he felt old, even as old as he truly was. Which was what now? Nine hundred years? Somewhere around there? That was a long time for anyone to live and it carried now.
His skills with telepathy was strong, but his skill with illusions was... not. It would have to be a combination of both to make any difference- a very delicate balance. And with the strike team scattered, it was the perfect moment.
He began to breathe, deep and slow, as steady as the rhythm of oceans upon a beach. Ancient and vast, full of life and potential, and immovable. A deep peace draped itself across his mind and body and he opened himself to that peace. It was the Force and it stretched through them all living beings in the room, in tendrils mostly of Dark, but one or two Light. He and Audren, for the most part.
He let his presence shine forth- bright and full of life and began to create images. Duplicates of the others in the room. Then triplicates. Not quite as detailed, but they looked real, had a solidity to them. Tension began to build in his neck as he set them out across the catwalks near where the true individuals fell. That was not yet enough, however. Sweat beginning to drip down his back, he crafted a thought to be shared with everyone, a strong convincing thought. It was simple. The ones that had fallen had been a trick to divert attention away from the truth. Then he sent the thought out through the entire room.
But now he had to maintain the illusion for as long as possible, even though the strain was already beginning. It had settled on his forehead, pinching behind his closed eyelids, before winding down his neck and back.
Stormtroopers were weak-minded, conditioned to follow orders without independent thought. The illusion and telepathy would hopefully be enough to distract them while drawing attention of the presence above to himself. If he could distract the Sith long enough, keep them busy enough, for the others to get close to the crystals, they had a chance.
It meant a potential battle of the Force between him and this ancient Sith Lord, but that would perhaps yet be enough. He too was old, withered and gnarled like the ancient oak, hardened by years of bleak winters, comforted by the hope of spring, grown through the rich warmth of summer, and granted some modicum of wisdom in the waning years of autumn- as life died away. So he had survived for centuries, as much a part of the land as the plants he tended for so carefully. Life would go on, regardless of Sith superweapons and Jedi efforts, as it always did. Life to death, death to life.
As they embarked Wolf took note of Samka's advice regarding Bane. Wolf remained silent as [member="Nomar"] suggested he fly them to the top, Samka having said everything that needed to be said on the matter. A man telling you he can fly you somewhere while at the same time being inebriated was not the most convincing of cases. They continued to ascend, Wolf having to fight only one or two stormtroopers at a time thanks to the narrowness of the pathway ahead. The gruelling task of cutting through troopers along twenty stories of catwalks was getting to him however, as his muscles began to ache and groan. He had to remind himself of the stakes, the Imperial fleet outside, and the entire galaxy that could be in peril. The group behind him who covered his flanks were relying on him to make his way through. He could not let them all down. He felt a dark and sickly power as he looked over the edge and saw that [member="Daxton Bane"] had collapsed to the ground after his challenge. How were they supposed to combat such power? He remembered the words of Jareth, that Molior was already dead. How do you get rid of dead people? Bury them? Burn them?
Wolf's thoughts were interrupted as the Force warned him of the catwalk below him, and he felt it begin to crush and snap underneath the group of them. He and his fellow Force users knew a few moments beforehand, and instinctively would jump to safety. As Wolf felt the ground underneath him buckle and break apart, he was about to jump when he heard the trooper [member="Doc"] from behind him, calling his name. Wolf twisted around, deactivating his lightsaber as his arm came around and gripped tightly around Doc's, before bending his knees and jumping. He grit his teeth, the Dark Side surging through him as he propelled himself forward. Not only did he jump later than he should have done, he also had to deal with the extra weight of the trooper, of whom he now had an iron grip on as they leapt through the air.
His mind struggled and raged at the Force, urging it to propel them far enough forward that they would reach safety. Wolf's eyes widened in shock, however, as he saw the end of the catwalk approach them but realised they would fall just short. He growled as his feet did not find solid ground, and his arm reached out but could not catch onto the edge of the catwalk. He immediately thought of the trooper, and how he could use the Force to propel him back onto the catwalk. It was probably too late, however, as they missed it and began to fall. With the momentum after he missed the catwalk, his body was now horizontal, facing the ground below as they plummeted through the air. They were so high up, how could anyone survive this? His mind was racing, immediately thinking of the next challenge he faced. How would they soften the fall, cushion the blow? Death seemed inevitable, and yet his mind raged against such an outcome, searching for some sort of solution. There had to be one.
Wolf was stopped in his thoughts, however, as he found his body, and that of the trooper's, stop moving. He looked around as he was suspended in mid-air. It was as though thick, strong rope had been thrown down and caught them. But there was no rope to be seen. Wolf could immediately sense the power of the Force, and breathed a sigh of relief as the tendrils of the Force pulled him and the trooper back up to safety. He could not help but smile as he and Doc were dropped at the end of the catwalk with the others, finding solid ground once more. He looked at Samka to see if she was the one who had helped, but no, the Force had not stemmed from her. Wolf turned and saw [member="Daxton Bane"] standing on a nearby catwalk, evidently having recovered from Molior's attack, and Wolf was surprised to find that he was the one who had helped them. Perhaps not such a mad dog after all. He nodded to him in thanks, watching him leap from catwalk to catwalk.
Wolf heard static from the trooper helmets, it seemed someone was trying to contact them. Wolf did not personally wear an earpiece, too much of a distraction, though it probably would have been helpful when on a joint mission facing the end of the galaxy. They would have to fill him in on what was being communicated. His lightsaber ignited, growling and spitting into life. He looked around to see if everyone had made it safely, before he urged them, "Retake your positions, and press on." The fact he had very nearly fallen to his death was nowhere to be seen on his face, appearing as though nothing had happened. He had to push the thought out of his mind. As he looked up, he had to realise that Molior could give him a fate worse than simply falling to one's death, and he had to be prepared. The troopers above them would not give them some time off because they had suffered this mishap. The blaster fire continued and Wolf's muscles sprung into life as he leapt to the forward flank again, charging up the catwalks and deflecting fire, trusting that the rest of the group would retake their positions as they would continue upwards.
This Dark Lady had a power beyond anything he had seen thus far in other Sith and Knights of Ren he had met, he could plainly see that. How effortlessly she stopped the heart of one of the Sith, who no doubt was a potent Force user himself. How effortlessly she crunched through a solid metal catwalk and ripped it apart. Wolf could only hope that her lightsaber abilities would not be as proficient as her Force ones as he made his way up, steeling himself for what may lie ahead. Not only that, he had to hope she would not rip apart the catwalk again. He noticed in interest as he began to see duplicates of themselves, an attempt to distract Molior. Surely she would be able to identify the source of the illusions? Wolf briefly peered over the edge to see one of the two from earlier, on the ground, [member="Tiland Kortun"]. Perhaps that was the point, to gain her attention and distract her so the team could continue upwards.
With Darth Molior potentially distracted with the illusionist, Wolf hoped they would not find any more deadly interruptions as they made their way up the catwalks. If all went well, without further incident, they would arrive at the summit.
Location: Heart of Darkness
Looks like everyone around is an ally! : [member="Thresh Sken"] [member="Wolf"] [member="Kierel"] [member="Doc"] [member="Vustia"] [member="Nomar"] [member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Nomar"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Lark"]
Sam cursed herself as the a bolt of fire passed through her defences. She had considered the trajectory of the fire as not a threat as it was going slightly wide of the group but it had broken a part of the railing and the jagged metal swung around the stab [member="Kierel"] in the gut. But if she'd attempted to deflect that bolt she surely would have been struck by another close to hitting her own thigh? Having to make such decisions in the blink of an eye was tough.
"On your feet now, soldier. You're stronger than this," she told the Stormtrooper and offered a free hand to help her up as she collapsed to her knees. The words may be tough but they were delivered gently, as an encouragement. Sam was only becoming aware now that her calming influence over the female trooper's mind had disappeared long ago and the soldier had been performing so well, Sam had forgotten to keep them under the mind control. There hadn't been any need to. She felt slight admiration to the soldier for rising to the challenge in the face of something so alien to her but Sam had little time to dwell on such matters now.
The walkway they were on creaked and groaned under the weight of Force power being thrown at it. Darth Molior had decided to put an end to their group. "Move!" She yelled and immediately leaped up to another walkway a few meters above them. There was little she could do for the others there, physically the teenager was not strong enough to lift the weight of another human being.
She landed next to a Sith Trooper, slicing her opponent as she landed with such ferocity that he was knocked off and sent hurdling to the ground floor below. Once the threat was dealt with (in a matter of seconds) she turned her head back to the collapsing walkway and attempted to counter Molior's influence. The Dark Lord's power was too great and Sam couldn't tell if she had made the slightest difference in slowing the destruction of the walkway, she hoped she had. Maybe her intervention had given the others precious moments to get to safety. It was impossible to know. She could see [member="Kierel"], [member="Vustia"] and [member="Thresh Sken"] had made it to the end of the walkway but there was no sign of the others and she had no time to look as a large Sith Trooper advanced towards her on the walkway, brandishing his weapon. This one was different, that was no standard rifle in his grasp.
She took a defensive posture but it was not enough, the enemy had a short range weapon of some kind ideal for breaking the defences of lightsaber users such as herself. Many scattered small bolts of plasma erupted from the Trooper's weapon with just one pull of the trigger. Sam deflected the majority, protecting her vital points, but it was an impossible task to deflect them all... The enemy fired again and more blaster bolts ripped through her body, the pain causing the young Ren to fall to the ground with a grimace. Her right leg was riddled in in tiny scorch marks, there was no way it could hold her own weight. The Sith Trooper advanced, closing the gap so his short range weaponry would become deadly. She only had one chance. Sam threw her lightsaber at the approaching Sith Trooper, it didn't hit the man himself but it did tear through his gun. She'd broken his weapon.
Using the railing at her side to support herself, Sam rose up off the floor. "You shouldn't have this," she snarled under her breath at the Trooper, her eyes flashing with rage and madness. Using the Force, Sam propelled herself at her foe and knocked him over by using her entire weight. She lay on top of him as he began to thrash; slapping, punching and barging against her with the strength of a well trained soldier. But she had the Force as her ally.
Both of her hands clasped around the soldier's helmet and blasted him with Force lightning. It covered his entire body, crackling and making the man beneath her convulse violently. It affected her too, she was half sitting-half laying on top of him after all. As the lightning travelled down his body, it went up into hers, sending shocks across her legs and up to her wast. Her head too was so close to where her attack had begun that little bolts of lightning would break off and sting her across face. But she didn't care now. She was already in pain from the blaster fire, a little more was meaningless if it meant he was feeling everything she did with greater intensity. Regaining some control over his muscles, the Sith Trooper attempted to knock her off with his left arm, dealing a heavy slap to the side of her head.
"That's enough of that..." she muttered under her breath and called her lightsaber back to her from where it had landed earlier. Keeping one hand electrocuting the enemy, she shoved her lightsaber through the man's shoulder blade. She didn't move to sever the arm but left her lightsaber there, burning a lightsaber shaped hole directly through the man and the metal walkway they were fighting on.
Samka Derith took on many personas. She liked to think of herself as an elegant young lady, a respectable one who moved with natural grace and charm. To others she could come across as childish, either in brattish entitlement or even innocence. This was another side of her, one she did her best to keep locked away. The sadist who whispered to her in her dreams had taken temporary control.
"I think you're done now," Samka whispered as he stopped struggling. The barrage of lightning ended and her blade was withdrawn. The man was still alive and ripe for a vampiric feast. Like she had done on the Sith Lord earlier, Samka snatched the life from the trooper beneath her. She used what was left of his energy to reinvigorate her own, soothing her wounds and making her refreshed for battle.
The Knight of Ren stood up. It felt good. The scorch marks were gone. The pain was gone. She was herself again. However there was the rattling of footsteps approaching. Sam glanced over to see more Troopers running towards her, each holding the same weapon as the man who attacked her before.
Silently, she sent a wave of Force push to knock them over or at least slow them down. Hopefully one or two would be knocked over the edge but she didn't stick around to find out. There was only one platform she could see was free from enemy soldiers so she jumped for it. Leaving the walkway with a backflip, she jumped off a wall and up onto the free platform. A slight prideful smile briefly touched her face as she nailed the landing.
Sam scanned the room around her, she could see the others of the First Order. She could see many of them in fact. Sam blinked in confusion as she watched Sith Stormtroopers fire on a copy of herself. This was bizarre. She reached out with the Force to try and find the real versions of her companions but there was a darkness which overwhelmed everything. A darkness which came from directly behind her. No wonder there were no Sith Troopers up here. Sam had jumped directly into the vicinity of Darth Molior herself.
For all the talk of team work, of acting as a unit, somehow she'd found herself up here alone. She was completely outmatched, she could feel that just by being the presence of the ancient Sith. Her bloodthirsty rage from before was completely overridden by fear, she glanced around for a quick escape already knowing it was futile if the Sith woman did not want her too. The only choice she had was to delay and in her own experience Sith did love their monologues.
Sam had seen healing as critical to the success of combat. To deal with battle wounds she studied two ancient Sith Lords. Darth Nihilus and Darth Scion. She had settled on learning the method of draining Nihilus had specialised in, as she had done so twice on board the Omega, yet she still knew of Darth Sion. The Lord of Pain.
"Millennia ago," Sam said to the figure of Darth Molior. "There was a Sith Lord named Darth Sion. He lived as little more than a corpse, refusing to die despite eternal pain. Eventually he let go of life of his own free will, he realised that death was not the end, it was peace." Sam stared at the Sith woman before continuing. "You remind me of him, from what I know. Why do you still cling to life when you can get what you want through becoming one with the Force. The galaxy shall forever be a noisy place no matter what you do but in the next plain of existence, everything is silence. Everything is as you crave."
Sam glanced over her shoulder, the others had to arrive soon. Her stalling for time could only last so long...
CENTRAL CONTROL
[member="Jude Falkrowe"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"]
[member="Kith Verloren"] [member="Krenis Skirata"]
The lights of blaster bolts flashed around him as the air practically sizzled like bantha steak on a grill. His HUD kept the targets highlighted through the din as smoke began to form a cloud against the ceiling of the control room. Ordo for his part made a quick roll to cover and acknowledged the comm from his counter part with a typical grunt. His body was still in pain but his focus was total. He wasn't one of the last memebers of the Ori'ramikade for nothing.
"Got your six, kid." Ordo said, his already gruff voice sounded like stones in a washing machine, "Do your thing, I've handled undead before."
He rose from cover and fired his heavy ripper into a troopers cover and watched as the energy encased slugs ate away the metal to kill the man behind it. Bolts peppered his armor and he rolled to cover once more.
The other Mando was ready and used his repulsor pack to jump and as he did Ordo dropped his heavy ripper pulled his beskad and lightsaber. Ordo leapt with the force into the fray as they moved to fire at the flying mando and quickly earned their attention. His bright orange lightsaber hissed and crackled as it severed limbs, while the bes'kad thwacked and thunked into whatever it could. If the kid failed Ordo would have to activate his A-class thermal detonator and take out half the bridge. He'd die, but that didn't really matter much anymore. He had lived a full life, he was a veteran of hundreds of battles, he had fathered two children and adopted many more, and he had a debt to this galaxy he had yet to pay. He had been the Dark Lord of the One Sith, betrayed his people and sent hundreds of thousands to thier deaths. Maybe it was time to pay the price.
Ordo's beskad broke through the back of a corpse warrior's head before flames burst from his gauntlet and moved in an arc as he backed toward his battle brother. The troppers continued their efforts to end him but the force was no longer hidden and the Mandalorian Master was more than they barganed for. Finally, he caught the highlighted group of troopers and their charges and knew what he had to do.
"I'll hit them close." He said, his voice booming in through the firefight, "Do what you can but if you have to blow the damn thing."
Again, stupid as it was, he leapt at the troopers around the small protected crew. He used his flamthrower as he neared them to help hinder their cohesion before he landed and began his hack and slash barrage. With luck and ample amounts of the force charging his body. He would break their line and stop the crew from whatever was so important to the commander that he wanted them unhindered.
Reactor 1 - The enemy forces converged on Cole. One of the storm troopers set his blaster to stun- hoping to finally drop the man.
Reactor 2 - The room roiled with combatants. Lightsabers and blasters flashed. [member="Nima Tann"] cut through Stormtroopers even as Darth Moreth closed in on [member="Elpsis Elaris"]. But her grin faded around the edges- something wasn't right. Something was- the gout of pure, incandescent fire that came surging from the redhead boiled toward her. The lightening stopped, Darth Moreth launching herself to one side, a staggered moment of hesitation not of her own causing her to catch licking tongues of fire across her face and shoulder. She hit the deck hard, rolling swiftly to put out the hungry flames before rocketing back to her feet. Others made their entrances, but the Sith had other things to worry about.
[member="Zark"] charged at her, [member="Dax Fyre"] coming in from above. Twirling her saber, she made as though she would parry his blow. But instead, she dodged down, inside his attack, closing, her face centimeters from his. Her own forearm came up beneath his, both of their sabers forced up by the motion. If Dax continued his leap, he would find himself greeted by not one, but two lightsabers aimed above the pair.
She grinned at Zark, giving him a wink. One side of her face was crisp and burned, so the smile was lopsided. Did it bother her? It must. Pushing back against him, she sliced her lightsaber around- this was not a mere disengage- her strike aiming for his wrist.
As [member="Arla Balor"] closed on the reactor, the cry of "DONE!" came from one of the techs. The reactor's glow doubled in output. They had over charged the reactor. But there was an opening. If she acted quickly to take advantage of it.
Reactor 3 - (DM note: I'm changing the order of your posts, for the sake of a- people not dying and b- cinematics). As [member="HK-36"] and [member="Cabur Aranar"] reached the sealed door that led to the hallway, the Falcon made it's run. With heartbeats to spare, they breeched the corridor, the door creaking shut behind them.
[member="Kira Vaal"] 's few random shots missed the reactor itself- but impacted the ship-turned-explosive courtesy of a certain metal man. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps the Force- since one salvo of hits might not have been enough to bring the reactor down. But an entire ship exploding combined with the force of the proton torpedoes? The Falcon rode out of the tear in the side of the Omega, nearly pushed forward by the wave of the explosions.
Reactor 3 was destroyed.
Central Control
The barest widening of his eyes were the only indication that Sicarii knew something was very wrong. He had spent the last six months serving a dead Sith Lord- these creatures did not unnerve him- indeed, how could such simulacrum compare to Darth Molior? But they did threaten him, and that simply would not do.
Sicarii lashed out with one arm, utilizing telekinesis to send the dead behind him flying in a backward arc. It was messy, no doubt about it, and if he was concerned about the morale of the bridge crew, well, it didn't show. It seemed unlikely that he was. He activated the saber in his other hand, the blade erupting in a deep red glow. He didn't have the time to dodge the attack from @Matsu Xiangu , so he met it head on, the two lightsabers crashing together with a crackling hiss that shattered the air. Their faces were lit with that crimson glow before he pushed her back, again using telekinesis to strengthen his shove. He needed space, and he could sense the feral hunger in her.
@Jude Falkrowe, with cover from [member="Krenis Skirata"], was able to gain access to one of the computer terminals. It became clear immediately that the crew was working to turn the Omega's weapon so that it could fire on Castameer. He could not gain full control, the ship was controlled by too many variables and crew. But he thought, perhaps, that he could increase the effects of the current course change. Instead of merely rotating to face it, if he ordered the engines fired, it would force the Omega in to the planet itself, crashing it. Would Jude take that path? The ship was too large to quickly affect a radical course change. But this, this might even go unnoticed for those first crucial moments....
As [member="Ordo"] opened with his flame thrower, additional troopers swept in. The fighting around the bridge crew in that location was fierce. Would they finish their calculations in time?
On one wall, one of three green lights turned red. The third reactor had failed. The wailing of that warning klaxon, however, could not be heard over the din of battle.
The Heart of Darkness
Energy moves to those with power, she thought distantly. She had been disinterested in going down to meet [member="Daxton Bane"] , but apparently, he was coming to meet her. She didn't feel any particular way about the development, but she reached down to one of the sabers on her hip.
A frown. Where had all of the extra enemies come from? She narrowed her eyes, reaching out with the Force- Ah. Illusions. But from where? Whom? From the height she was at, she could only just see the small, seated figure of the old man, [member="Tiland Kortun"]. Sith and Jedi, and... whatever the maw these other people were. Fighting together. Against her.
Tantor, you'd be so proud of them, she thought, a trace of bitterness, as her hand brushed the smaller, Jedi's saber. You said we would find a way to bridge the gap between Jedi and Sith. Somehow, I doubt this is what you meant.
Reaching out, she used the Force to finish twisting off the chunk of the catwalks she had broken before. Lifting it with the Force, she flung it down towards the ancient Jedi, keeping part of her attention on the upward progress of Daxton. Those distractions allowed the First Order ([member="Wolf"] [member="Thresh Sken"] [member="Doc"] [member="Vustia"] [member="Kierel"] ) to head to the top unhindered- there were only so many places her attention could be.
But the arrival of [member="Samka Derith"] could not be ignored. Turning to face her, the dead Sith Lord watched her impassively, listening with no obvious sign of interest. Just a sense of 'might as well'. Molior tilted her head slightly to the side as the girl finished.
"You talk too much."
Apparently, Molior wasn't the type to monologue. As before, she raised a hand, flicking her fingers downward, as though turning off a switch. She would stop Samka's heart, silence the beating and hopefully, the grating, accusing voice as well.
Thoja unleashed a hail of gunfire into the converging stormstoopers, before turning his attention to the Sith. She was dealing with three people now, but she seemed to be holding strong against them. That meant he had the perfect shot. Adjusting his aim, he a couple of shots towards her, aimed for her mid-section.
Catwalks snapped up above Lark and fell towards the darkness below. A group of people, Lark couldn't tell who they were, continued to fight, desperate to reach the top. They might be his only hope of ascending all the way upwards. He'd have to reach them, but doing so wouldn't be easy. They wouldn't stop to help him, and why would they? He was nobody to them. No, if he stood any chance of joining them, he'd have to fight his way towards them, prove himself.
He twisted around cover, killing the Stormtroopers that had been pinning him down. Slowly, he continued to climb. He saw more people than he originally thought, but some of them were the exact same as others in the area. Holograms maybe? Clones? It didn't matter. Lark provided some fire support, in hopes that these people would let him carry on alongside them.
It looked like it would never end as the numbers never seemed to decrease. One down, two down, three down... The count was going up and up. Nima continued slicing through her enemies, one by one, one by one, as the dead started to fill the room. It was really turning into a loop. At some point, she didn't even realize what was going on at the background, since she was so concentrated in her own stance and trying to perfect her, that she would seem like a programmed killing robot to the outside world, but she could sense more auras joining in their assault, and fighting off the Stormtroopers seemed less of an exhaustion all of a sudden. Then she realized that more help has come, which she appreciated. Dealing with everyone herself was quite difficult, and she was pretty tired from all the action earlier anyway. The slaughter continued until it just... stopped. There was no one to kill, and no lasers to reflect. When Nima came to her senses from all the fighting, she realized the group managed to cut through the Stormtroopers. The floor was now full of dead Stormtroopers, and Nima and the group were alive. So, it proved that numbers weren't always the winning factor in a battle. After having a little second to recollect herself and control her breath, she examined her surroundings quickly. The battle with the Sith continued, so they still had one obstacle between them and their destination. And the disturbance she felt before... it grew. It filled the whole room with a feeling of... Their time was running out.
So, collecting the Force around herself, she lashed out at the Sith with a Force Push towards her legs, aiming to make her lose her balance, or have only a little time to react to her next attack. She could feel that the Darth was in pain, no matter how she was good at concealing it, and pain just made things easier for Nima. Reaching through the Force to the Sith's mind, she attacked her mental defences, sending one mental blast after another, using her last energy to boost her aggression. If the distraction worked and her attack connected, the Sith would feel like a thousand needles stabbing her brain, with each stab it was going to hurt more and more, and with addition she would hear monotone, distant voices of someone telling her "You are all alone." , "There is no escape.", "No one to protect you." , "You will die here." , "Everyone is dead." repeating over and over and over, overlapping each other that sounded even more disturbing.
There was no escape from the voices. No matter how you tried to keep them at bay, they always found a way to get you.
The redhead was like a steam engine ready to combust. She had pushed herself far, but was still drawing upon all her power to smite the Sith. Her firemane was wild and tousled, her face scarred by the Sith Lightning and her eyes seemed ablaze. Heat spread across her body like wild fire. The Great White Wolf howled in the darkness and her acolyte answered the call for battle.
It seemed that the Sith Master was busy engaging enemies close-up in melee. This gave Elpsis an opening now that the onslaught of Lightning had ceased. This gave her a reprieve, though the pain from the injuries she'd acquired over the past battles remained. There was only so much she could take before she'd collapse, but she forced herself to press on. Everything in her short life seemed to have led to this moment. From the torture chambers in the dungeon of her malevolent father, to the complete failure of her time as a Jedi, the dark nights on the harsh streets of Coruscant and her days as a mercenary, to her reunion with her mother, [member="Coryth Elaris"]. She did not fear the darkness or the Force anymore. The looming spectre of her father had been banished. Time to piss him off even more by smiting this Avatar of Evil.
The pyromancer made a gesture with her burnt, scorched hand, focusing all her power upon Darth Moreth. She sought to achieve nothing less than to will Moreth's blood to boil like hot lava within her veins. She wanted to smite the woman and make her burn from the inside out.
Khan had taken some time to navigate the corridors and make his way to the area of the ship that he couldn't sense with the Force. Surely, if there was anything like what he was looking for, this is where it would be. Why else would the entire area be cloaked to the Force? It seemed that most of the ship's defenders weren't bothering to patrol and defend the hallways at this point. He could hear distant explosions throughout the ship as battles raged elsewhere. He had the feeling that he didn't have much longer before the whole station was obliterated. He didn't have much time to find what he was looking for.
Khan eventually made it to where he couldn't see with the Force... The heart of the Omega. Now that he was close, he could feel the Force from inside. There were dozens of people inside. Mostly stormtroopers, but he felt plenty of Force Users too. Darksiders, lightsiders, and... A Sith. An immensely strong Sith. Khan stepped into the great open room filled with catwalks and fighting force-users.
They were all fighting one individual, the strongest one in the room. Jedi and Sith and whoever everyone else were were teamed together against her. She must have been the one defending this area, one of the Omega's most powerful Sith Lords no doubt. But this room... This wasn't an archives, or a vault, or anything he had hoped it would be. It was just a huge expanse filled with catwalks and rubble. He had no idea why this place was cloaked to the Force, but it wasn't to hide anything valuable. He had wasted his time, and he wouldn't have time to search the rest of the station. Feth! He had so much oppurtunity, to find holocrons, ancient artifacts, surely a Sith order like this had those things in score! And he had wasted it venturing to this place! Surely by now any valuables that were on the station were looted by others. Khan growled under his breath, about to turn and leave the huge room when some of the surviving Omega stormtroopers began to fire on him.
Khan quickly moved out of the way, leaping aside before the barrage of blaster bolts hit him. More distractions! Khan reached for his vibroblade, hoping to dispatch of the stormtroopers and leave before the Omega Sith and the others that were fighting noticed him and he got caught in the crossfire.
Now I've only got one organ left and this old bag of bones it is failing me
And I try to tell people that I'm dying only they don't believe me They say that we're all dying We're all dying
Images collide; collapse.
The shimmering gold coasts of Dubrillion, the raging seas of her oceans. The laughter of his sister, its distinct melody now all but forgotten.
The Force.
Zark Pulsar knows he is alive. He can feel it. He can feel everything. Even his hand, though on some level he is aware it is no longer there.
The last fifteen seconds replay out in his mind in slow motion. The Jedi Knight is charging, eager to press the advantage before the Sith has time to recover from the flames. His stasis technique had almost held her in place long enough to catch the full blast, but he lost his concentration. The mines, throwing the excavator, drawing out the Sith on Castameer with the Force, and the long fight through the station's defenses had pushed him beyond his limits. He was too slow, and he was too late to realize it as the still smoking Moreth slipped in too quickly past his defenses, forcing his saber upward into a higher guard. Her face is a charred mess, and he does his best to ignore her taunts as he maneuvers to overpower her with his physical strength. Surprised at his initial success, he notices too late Dax leaping through the air. With no time to react, the winking Sith presses her advantage, forcing him back. Unless he wished to skewer the Jedi Padawan, he would have to let her, but in doing so allowed her to force him into an awkward defensive posture as he struggled to lower the angle of his saber as much as possible in the process.
Suddenly, the pressure had been gone. Then there was a flash of something he believed was pain, and a short cry that was more an instinctual response than anything else.
The Captain stood there, dumbly, staring at the empty space where his hand used to be. Outclassed by a superior duelist, Zark had walked right into the clever feint. The blow, aimed at his wrist, actually sliced clean through a little more than halfway down his forearm, the orange blade cauterizing most of the wound in the process. The Sith Lord likely would half followed through with a killing stroke had she not been forced to contend with both Dax Fyre and a timely mental assault by the twi'lek Force wielder. Still in shock, he nonetheless lethargically attempts to draw the heavy blaster from its holster with his remaining hand, before he is sent hurtling backwards against the bulkhead walls by a defensive kick from the Sith, nonetheless empowered with enough force to nearly drive him completely from consciousness.
The blaster clatters to the floor beside him several meters away. His vision starts to darken, and he shakes his head, struggling to stay awake. Events continue to play out before him, still seemingly slowed down although a distant, logical region of his brain suspects that he is more likely losing time. Around him, stormtroopers are cut down by the combined weapons fire of the Jedi Marshal and the special forces commandos. Another of his men goes down, a blaster round scoring a vicious hole in the soldier's chest through his armor. Mutedly, he can hear Arix's modulated voice calling his name through the chaos. The Padawan is struggling to get to him, twin sabers dicing through stormtroopers in close quarters, but he is cut off deflecting sustained fire by their remaining numbers. The redheaded human was gesturing with her hand at the Sith, seemingly in an attempt to work more of her elemental fury.
"I gotta get up..." he mumbled to himself, blood trickling down from his mouth as he tried to stand but fell backwards almost immediately. The blow against the bulkhead must have damage something inside.
Slowly, Captain Pulsar began to crawl on his remaining hand and knees towards his fallen Alliance heavy blaster.
The Omega
The Citadel Grouop
Reactor 1 Suicide Squad ( of 1 )
Allies: [member="Arla Balor"]
Enemy: [member="Kith Verloren"]
Cole fought a good fight or at least he thought he was fighting a good fight. That was until there was a moment of intense pain follow but nothing but darkness as he got hit full in the chest on the stun setting.
What he assumed were to be his last thoughts were first of Kaia. The sister he barely knew but loved dearly and of Arla the friend he had made, the friend he had followed into battle and the friend he hoped was proud of him. Not since Carida had Cole found somebody he truly respected and cared what they thought about him in return. In the final seconds Cole passed out with a smile.
); First Order
