Invasion Battle for Balance Chapter III — GA invasion of DE held Tython

[Phoenix Kasari]

Post: 2
Location: Bogan
Theme: Wars Of Faith
Personal Equipment: Krath Holy Battle Suit | Krath blood blade(Dagger) | Krath Dire Sword
Allies: Detritus Ren | Keilara Kala'myr | Saa Montemar | Sid Berik | Rackham
Enemies: Gress D'ran | Minerva Fhirdiad | Zark San Tekka | Casaana | Ko Vuto | Naxa Zalita | Galactic Alliance
Personal Tags: Noah Corek Jr. | Samuel Creed

​

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Spoiler

Total Units:
12 Krath Assault Ship
24 CX-133 Chaos fighter (Escorts)
9,500 Krath war droid
200 Tetan shock troopers
500 Chaos Troopers
20 Death Witches
12 Cataphract Tank
40 Tetonic Crusader Tanks
8 TXT AT-MPT 01x
4 TXT AT-TD 01x
(If this is too much dm me, I am bad at making units.)

Pheonix stood aboard her assault ship watching as her soldiers headed out each commander relaying their mission objectives and coordinates directly to her personal datapad on the Krath web frequency. To anyone who attempted to hack it would look like gibberish as it was in the ancient Krath's secret language. The data streamed across the datapad as the units headed out towards there positions.

Phoenix looked it over as she headed to a 3D projection map of the local area. The others with her a few ranking members of the assault vessel crew and her personal contingent of death witches started to gather around the map. "We should send the troopers here." The captain of the assault vessel pointed to a heavy area in the center of the enemy lines.

"Are you sure, can you handle the bombardment these vessels are surely going to take going for that spot?" Pheonix questioned heavily. It would be a very risky maneuver plus they more then likely had shields and other defenses in place to prevent such a drop. The captain then gave Phoenix a crooked smile as he looked at the death witches at the table. She knew immediately what he was thinking.

Yet before she could give the approval lines of gibberish secret language began to pour down her data screen. The droid units were under attack by mortar fire. "Frakking hell." She spit as she saw the messages coming across. "They have already broken into the dark empires lines." She looked to the comm's officer in the room. "Relay a line to the Empire." She wanted to have it read get your chit together but decided to go for the more diplomatic approach. "Tell them the alliance has broke in behind the lines, we will hold them off, but they need to make sure no breaches are made." She then turned back to the captain.

"Take the witches begin the launch for the scramble but hold off until you can find a spot to enter, we don't want to drop our guys on shields." She then turned to the witches. "You know your job, make our birds invisible." She then promptly sent a line of command to her commanders to engage the enemy and not to hold back.

She turned once more to the captain. "Godspeed." She could still be in touch by datapad but she had her own mission as well. With that she began her exit from the assault ship.


Samuel Creed

---

​

Commander: Levi Grey head of the Droid Forces.

The droid forces were leading the way to go meet up with the other droid forces on the battlefield. As they marched mortar fire erupted, the first mortar taking out a small section of droids. It immediately put them in threat detection mode as the front lines of around two thousand hunched down on all fours and took off at high speeds like a wildcat running after its prey directly for the immediate threat of the mortars. There is objective simple kill anyone and everyone in that area use their short swords and strong bodies to hack and crush acting as a swarm.

Another mortar hit taking out more droids and then another. As the next line of a two thousand stepped forward. Judging distance and then drawing their bows aiming them at near perfect arch. They let loose their Pulse-wave bow volley in the direction of mortar fire just over their hunched brethren charging towards the mortar lines not that they cared if they hit their own kind.

The thousands of other droids began hunch and begin their stampeding charges in staggered intervals. The droids' purgatives were very simplistic overwhelm and destroy the enemy. Swarm, overwhelm, and destroy.

Spoiler

About five hundred droids lost in the first volley of mortar fire.
Droids begin there charge in staggered intervals
A contingent of two thousand open fire from range with there pulse wave bows.

Noah Corek Jr.

---

Commander: Jacob Fuller head of the Mobile Infantry


Coming up behind the droids in were the tanks split into two main groups of units one and two then units three and four. There was also the walker group just a small way in front of them. As the mortar fire lit up the sky and started to rain on the droid armies in front the tanks began to slow their pace. One of the tank leaders came across small band comms.

"The enemy has breached the lines; I have forwarded the notice on the web." He informed all the those in the tank and walker units. "Bring up your particle shields, protect yourself from the mortar fire." The Tanks still moving forward at a slower pace now with their shielding up feeling the thumps and bumps of mortar fire raining down.

"Rides going to be a bumpy one but once we are about half a click further, we aim for a that ridge on that other side of the crater with concussion missiles. If they are using the ridge line as cover, we sure as hell will scare them if there in the crater, we will bury them." The tanks started preparing their targeting systems for missile fire.

The walkers came to a stand still letting the tanks pass them by as the heavier TXT AT-TD 01x brought up their particle shielding and put power into extending it to shield there small walkers. They would let the longer-range tanks and combat droids soften up the force as they played clean up.

Spoiler

Tanks and walkers brought up particle shields to protect from mortars.
Tanks are moving about half a click then opening fire on the far ridge of the crater/plateau/whatever it is with concussion missiles. To try to collapse it in/on/or around the enemy
The walkers hunker down and hang back.

Noah Corek Jr.

---

Commander: Hass Kelber head of the Chaos and Shock Trooper Units

Haas was and his men where fairly silent given the battles they heard erupting outside their assault ships. They were all thinking of the road ahead of them, Haas himself of just how many of them he would lose this day. It was a virtual suicide mission, and he wasn't even sure if these old boats would get them to where they needed to be. His datapad beeped, he looked at the coded message. That read.

Twenty of the high Commanders Death witches would be divided up among the divisions. The assault ships will get ass close to the center mark as possible. The Death witches were to hide the assault ships to ensure this and hide the units as they dropped in. ​

The Haas smirked and thought to himself it was always great to have a death witch with you, they were good luck charms. They were going in stealth mode as well, so made not as suicidal as he first thought. He looked up and spoke to his men who would pass on the word to the other solders. "The Death whiches have decide to give us there grace this day and will be fighting at our side." His men grew lighter almost in a second at those words. The protection of a death witch were nothing to be scoffed at. He looked down again at his datapad as cheers erupted onboard for the death witches.

Please remain on standby we are gathering recon on enemy defenses. ​

It would still be a bit longer before operation scramble was launched but already the odds were looking better for survival with the death witches joining them only twenty but still. There would be no fight left for his men if there were any more of them. Anticipation welled up in him, he was once again ready to fight not dwell so much on those he might lose today.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Tribal Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Information

Objective: Defeat the GA
Location: Ground, Bogan, Tython system
Equipment: Light Armour | Wardress | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || OPBC-01m
Friends: Thomas Barran | Saa Montemar | Detritus Ren | Sid Berik | Rackham | Phoenix Kasari | Open
Enemies: Connel Vanagor | Roman Vossari | Ryana mina | Gress D'ran | Aiden Porte | Ko Vuto | Casaana | Minerva Fhirdiad | Naxa Zalita | Noah Corek Jr. | Caelan Valoren | Samuel Creed | Zark San Tekka | Open

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Ziare Dyarron | Freedom​

"You know, ever since Asher died, I don't care if I live or die..." I told him honestly.

At that time my only wish was to die, to be with him, but Kallan and Keilara didn't want that, because they wanted to live. So, my only option was to find my way to the Netherworld and seek Asher's soul there. I've been alone ever since, and I know that even if I die, I'll go back to the same place I would if I were alive. At most I won't be able to come to Realspace. Not much change, but I could still be with my husband, with whom we love each other. So I didn't really have too much to lose. Unless someone wanted to eat my soul and it could never get back to Asher. Although from that point of view, I knew his Valkyrie was "looking out" for me, so to speak, because the Avatars were still hunting my soul. But that didn't worry me.

The only thing was that I knew I would probably only cause my husband grief if I let myself get killed. But maybe if it meant I couldn't come back to Realspace, it would be better for him. I don't know, we would have to talk to him about that. Even so, I knew that what he would most like, I couldn't give him. Maybe, someday... even centuries or millennia later. Time won't matter in the Netherworld anyway, once I'm a soul.

However, my answer seemed to suit Tommy, because he seemed to be satisfied with it. When he reached out in my direction, I instinctively flinched and it took all my strength not to attack him on instinct. Smile and joy? I was with Asher, I had found my way to be with him, but still there was an emptiness inside me. It was as if he was alive, he had a physical body over there just as I did here. It was as if we were both alive, and yet there was a sense in me that it wasn't quite true. He couldn't come with me to Realspace because he wouldn't have a physical body here. He was killed, he sacrificed his life for me...

… and these were memories that still hurt terribly. I could feel his embrace, his kisses, his feelings and his thoughts. In vain we were one, I remembered his death and everything. And these were wounds that never went away, no matter how hard I tried and how much I wanted them to go away.

"I stayed an active agent to protect Asher most of all... and the twins because they're so important to him." I said tiredly.

Maybe one day, when my soul finds peace, I will be able to smile, but not now. Just as I was unable to feel pride. Happiness? For me, the only joy was to be with Asher or to see him happy. Nothing else in life could really bring me joy. I missed fighting wars together, being on the battlefield together. I knew it would never happen again and only the memories would bring me joy. I couldn't let go of the past the way he could. I couldn't, but I was glad that he could.

"I know what gives me pleasure and happiness... what are the few things." I told him.

I looked at him questioningly that he no longer liked the role he had been given by the Avatars. But I didn't have time to ask, nor for him to finish his words. I could also hear the loud and sharp hissing sound, but luckily for me my helmet was able to muffle the noise, but it was still painful. I could see Tommy collapsed on the ground and everything was bleeding like when I had attacked him with the mental assault. Fortunately for me, the noise was muffled enough not to cause any injury. As quickly as I could, I put the two blades back in the sheath and tried to step up to him.

But the attacks did not end there, with lightning and various lights in the sky. I immediately asked MANIAC for data, but he could find no natural explanation. It was not caused by a general natural phenomenon, not something that the HPI satellites, or drones or drones outside, could have detected normally. But I knew that the Force could have caused this. In the reports... I didn't have time for that either, because the next moment even the ground was shaking. I could hardly stand on my feet and the reports were not good. A lot of Marauders have been buried under the sand because of what has just happened.

When I saw my brother get up and pull himself together, I was about to call to report what happened, but he beat me to it. At his maniacal laughter and reaction, I sighed and snorted in disapproval. Now it was my turn to step closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder while squeezing it. Not too hard, just enough to get his attention and maybe break the momentary madness.

"What were you saying a few minutes ago, brother?" I asked him."That you're tired of being the Omen of Durace and that we need to be wiser than we were. Now you are acting just like the Omen of Durace. Come to your senses and be wiser!"

My voice was cold again this time, to make him realise the situation and shake off this madness; if necessary, I squeezed his shoulder even harder, to shake the pain back to reality. I hoped I wouldn't have to mentally intervene to shake this madness off.

"Just let me know if you need me to hit you to make you wiser. I'll do it anytime." I promised him.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"​

[COMM TRAFFIC]
LOCATION : Tython | OBJECTIVE : 3 |TAG (FRIENDLY) : Ryana mina | TAG (FOE) : Detritus Ren

Objective III — Bogan

It’s funny how the Force can sharpen your senses when you are not paying attention. In the middle of this battlefield, he could sense him. It was “his uncle” Thurion Heavenshield . The Lion King was on the field and doing what he does best. He wanted to take his fist and pump it into the air, but this was not the time or the place. He knew that he had to stay composed, focus on the mission at hand. He took a deep breath and readied himself for what was to come. He was ready to meet his uncle in battle, hopefully under better circumstances.

There were more and more of the dead rising. As much as he wanted to fight his way into the Dark Temple (They were on the steps leading up after all) there was simply no way he in good conscience could leave his compatriots to fight off these monsters alone.

“FOR THE EMPIRE!” More stormtroopers following technobeasts, Sithspawn monsters whose pain was living. It was a shame to have to take them down, but there were far too many young Jedi out here. They had to have a chance to live.

If you’ll take the troopers, I’ll take down that Terentatek. The 2.5 story beast turned to him and let out a menacing roar and he stopped. Or at least keep its attention. Again with the levity, and a shrug, there was another, a source of all of this darkness that had to be addressed, but there was also safety in numbers. Some of the Padawans, like Aiden Porte , and Casaana , he could see.

It was only when he could sense that more and more were coming that he would leave. Ryana mina was still in his sights too, but she was more than capable of handling her task at hand. It made him swell that she was, and would be alright, of course that didn’t change anything, he would still protect her as best he could. When the others would catch up, they would then move on. There had to be a stop put to this, but the light had to shine one way or the other.

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Temple Ruins, Ritual Center
Enemies: Jedi Connel Vanagor Ryana mina Nearby: Thurion Heavenshield Zark San Tekka Aiden Porte Casaana
Equipment: Ren Lightsaber, Orbalisk Armor


The sigils continued to glow brightly as Detritus could feel the essence of the dark side course through his veins. He felt the darkness of eons past connect with him, the Orbalisks that fed from his body would only empower the ritual. All around him did the dark stone turn to bloody crimson, as the sigils would continue to spread across the ruins of the of the stone cities they dwelled in. What was once a prison for those that sought to repent from the powers of the bogan, now fueled the miasma of dark side energy that was starting to build up over and over again. Detritus took a sharp exhale, the palms of his hands extended as he amplified the ritual through the Force.

Leviathans roared ferociously across the battlefield, they dug in deep, sometimes shifting through the ground like sand worms, only to emerge and strike with draining tendrils that turned beings into dust. Technobeasts of all species continued to flood out, grafted with blasters, hooks, blades, programmed to seek out any foe that followed the Jedi. All of it wasn't enough to fully stop the approach, Stormtroopers aided by renewed fighting spirit would rally into the depths of the stone ruins. "O World Eater, fuel this darkness that envelops me. Let it devour all those that dare deliver us from the cold abyss. For in the Maw do I find power, in the hunger do I find clarity. Pass your gifts unto me and destroy all those that defy the path." Detritus would give another dark prayer, the sigils would glow brighter, the red circle spreading until all of the obsidian stone shone red.

He had planned carefully for the Jedi's arrival. Spending weeks to carve out the sigils, following an Ancient Sith ritual. Once it was ready would he cover all of the world in darkness, or that was what he translated. He stood still as a statue, careful not to break his concentration standing in the center of the ritual. He needed more time to complete it, gritting his teeth he sensed multiple Jedi enter in from different angle. If the combined might of Sithspawn and Imperial forces was not enough, his enemies would all converge in the ritual center. A moment of panic had struck him, careful not to let it interfere in his focus, he clenched his hands into fists, pouring more of his rage into the ritual, the parasites engorging themselves on him, returned in kind by feeding into the cycle of rage, increasing the dark side energy that flooded through his veins.

The opening rites had concluded, but before the next stage and the ritual chant could begin, the surge of dark side energy would sound an ear shattering cry. As if the sigils had been awakened by utter agony did it let out its scream all across the temple ruins. Detritus's eyes glowed yellow as he allowed himself to be carried by the dark side, to become part of the ritual, the sigils still continued to scream, as if each one was like a banshee. A vicious smirk on his lips, feeling the Jedi come closer while the ritual only continued to grow in power. Soon nothing would stop him, not the full force of the New Jedi Order. It was only a matter of time until they all converged.​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Objective: Safeguard Padawans
Tags: Roman Vossari Anneliese Kaohal Casaana Caelan Valoren
Target: OPEN

The Knight brought up the rear of their advance, watching over the little ones as Roman sprinted towards the pair of figures stumbling their way out the temple entrance, guided by his light. The ball of energy dissipated upon their arrival, and Thurion beheld the quartet of padawans interact. As young lovers reunited, he was more concerned with their medical needs.

Creaking leather and rustling chainmail accompanied the sound of scraping steel as the armoured titan lowered himself, kneeling before the most grievously injured of the bunch so that their eye-lines were somewhat leveled. Having examined his wounds, the mysterious knightly figure grasped the face of his winged helmet and raised it over his head, finally revealing his visage to the group of padawans.

A long mane of gold long trapped was finally given room to breathe, working in tandem with a distinguished beard to frame his sculpted face. Where once a featureless visor was all that spoke to there being a person behind that helmet, there now resided a pair of brilliant blue eyes peering down at Caelan with the greatest of mercy and empathy. Lines of aging coupled with more scars than one could count spoke of the man's vast experience.

"It's going to be alright, son," he spoke, his voice now free of the natural distortion of metal. Carefully he rested a hand upon the lad's good shoulder. "Your master — your father — is still with us. You need only listen for his voice and feel the touch of his hand upon your shoulder." His heart broke upon witnessing the ages of the four students of the Force. Children no older than his eldest grandchildren thrust into the hell of galactic warfare.

"My name is Thurion," he informed all of them. "The Force has tasked me with ensuring your survival this day. Each of you has a part to play in the struggles that lay ahead, though I cannot speak to what they are. All will be revealed to you in time. That is all I can say at this moment."

His gentle gaze shifted to each of them in turn as he spoke, reading their faces and peering into the depths of their souls. "Roman. Anneliese. Casaana. Caelan," he named them, having picked up on the names they'd mentioned. A nearby explosion reminded them of the warzone they found themselves in. "We must not tarry. There is a battle yet to be won," he said before putting his helmet back on.

The tortured screams of three more Leviathans shambling towards the group supported by a platoon's worth of Imperial soldiers demanded their attention, and the Lion would not disappoint. "Spawn of Bogan, soldiers of the Empire, hearken to me! I grant thee the choice to turn and run, else suffer mine wrath! I am the righteous vengeance of the wrongful dead, and you shall not pass!"

He made no suggestion that the squad of padawans join him as he stood between them and the enemy host; those that deemed themselves fit to fight were free to stand beside him, and those that did not were given the opportunity to seek shelter.

"FOR ASHLA," he roared as he dove into the enemy, sword ablaze with the power of the sun.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Theme
Anneliese Kaohal Caelan Valoren Thurion Heavenshield Roman Vossari Casaana Noah Corek Jr.

Enemies: Sion / Dark Exchange

​

Aiden glanced from Sion to the four that had converged on him and he was thus surrounded. No place to go, he was outmatched and thus could not retreat. Aiden grimaced slightly as he felt a tremor in the force, something of great power that went off in the distance near the Temple where he was in route to before he was ambushed by these dark beings. Aiden turned as Sion was upon him again, more fierce and decisive with his strikes than before. Each attack was deflected yet Aiden's fatigue was beginning to show.

It was then a mistake was made. A quick slash towards the shoulder, hitting his armor yet enough to knock him off balance. It was then Aiden felt a quick attack movement against his face. He was headbutted and thus finally knocked on his back. The pain was more than enough to disorient Aiden for several moments, letting out a small groan in pain. Fresh blood flowing from his nose....

The Jedi glanced to his right as his lightsaber was a few feet away, he reached out with the force.

The saber reached his hand. Aiden from his sitting position maneuvered his blade to attempt an attack against the dark warrior. It was easily diverted away by the red blade and he felt a quick succession of punches to his face.

The Padawan gasped for air, as he rolled over and coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. Thus more attacks came, but from all sides.....

Kicks, punches.....

Aiden couldn't recall tell where they were anymore, the field of battle was spinning. What strength and courage he had mustered over the last few minutes was seemingly gone. He coughed again, his own blood the cause as he was pulled to his knees. Held by his arms on both sides. This was what it was going to come down to, an execution. He thought of them, Jun Chiyo , Brandyn Sal-Soren , Dreidi Xeraic

At the thought of them all, he smiled.

Stay strong my friends.....

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Allied Tag: Samuel Creed Zark San Tekka Noah Corek Jr. Aiden Porte Gress D'ran Ko Vuto Anneliese Kaohal

Enemy Tag: Saa Montemar Keilara Kala'myr Phoenix Kasari

​

Dashing to the right she swung horizontally, slicing a droid's jetpack. With sparks flying the latter spiraled out of control until it exploded. Using her vambrace's deflector shield to absorb new shots Minerva sped onward. Coming next to her while blasting away the Quarren Lieutenant Tuni exclaimed.

"They threw more clankers into this. Don't know how much more we can take."

As if to emphasize the point, rockets from below ascended, exploding several of her commandos caught up in the dogfight. Knowing they can't sustain in this matter, Minerva improvised during the middle of flight.

"Take out those missile droids, four and one! Two and Three spread out in smaller teams, let's thin them out!"

At the command the platoons ground side complied. One each dropping on flanks of their targets formation who were shooting up at their aerial comrades. Utilizing ion shots, missiles and droid poppers they began to decimate them in a pincer maneuver. Subsequently they charged, led by Lieutenant Gakot, engaging the anti-air droids up close and personal, negating their advantage.

As Minerva personally led the remaining two platoons still high in the air. They scattered themselves into smaller teams as instructed. The flying commandos spread out all over the northern battlefield, forcing their droid counterpart to work harder in their hunt. While the clankers have advantage in numbers and firepower the Talons had experience and accuracy.

Minerva descends, slicing sideways from the right, severing her metal foe into two. She pulled up to use her shield to block more hostile fire before maneuvering away forward. Then Gakot called.

"Cap, we took care of those missile launchers. We're resuming the attack from the ground."

"Excellent! Don't stray too far from the armor. The 34th is counting on us to support the advance here."

"On it boss."

With that their fight raged on.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"​

[COMM TRAFFIC]
LOCATION : Tython | OBJECTIVE : 3 |TAG (FRIENDLY) : Ryana mina | Thurion Heavenshield | Samuel Creed | Zark San Tekka | Noah Corek Jr. . | Aiden Porte | Gress D'ran | Ko Vuto | Anneliese Kaohal
| TAG (FOE) : Detritus Ren

Objective III — Bogan

Even with the power he exhibited from the aura of light, it wasn’t enough. All that was done was barely slow down the rise of the Leviathans rising from the grounds. If they were not the stopgap from this atrocity to life being brought upon the moon, the planet, the sector, the very galaxy… it would be demoralizing. It was the only chance they had to stop this disaster. It was their last hope. If the plan failed, nothing could be done. Could it though?

No time for worry now.

Connel was diverting the attention of a Blade-begotten Terentatek when his own attention was lost at the Reek that rammed into him, a Reek with a battering ram for a forehead even before the blaster cannons were somehow grafted to her. She knocked him a good fifty meters tumbling into the ground. Everything went dark. Was this it? Was he finished? What of his family? What of Ryana? What of his other friends on Bogan at that moment? What would happen to them?

Hey, little brother.

He opened his eyes to darkness surrounding him, a silhouette in the ether stood there for a moment back to him as the mist dissipated. Then she turned her head, it was Alyscia, they had never met, but he had seen the holo-images of her. She was his half-sister who had long since passed, given Caltin and Chrysa’s “situation”.

Alyscia?

Connel sat up, stunned. She was Caltin’s daughter with Alyksandra Cain, their relationship was tumultuous at first, he had never known her until Alyks found herself to be terminal in her illness and needed him to meet his daughter. Alyks loved him just as much as he did her and (in a sociopathic way of saving his life) sent him away with the threat of Corsec coming after him for a string of murders she knew that he was innocent of. She wanted him to be safe, but did not want her daughter to know her father through prison bars. So she sent him away.

Alyscia did not know her father for the first twelve years of life, only that “he abandoned them”. It took time, but everything had long been worked out, all the time, Caltin not saying one bad thing about Aly’s mother. She deserved to keep that memory of the woman. She grew up around the Jedi, had been attune to the Force herself, even trained as a Jedi, eventually returning to Corellia to go to University and eventually be a part of the planetary Council. She had a great life, having children of her own, grandkids, everything, all the while keeping the name “Vanagor” even after marriage.

She spent a lot of her income trying to find him, knowing for certain that her father went missing, he did not simply “die”. She eventually passed away of old age, having focused eventually on her family and their growth. It was when the Sith Empire tried to annihilate the planet of Tython previously that this backstory proves relevant…

You’ve got questions, I know. It’s okay, we have a minute. Time was not relative to where they were at the moment, it was simply a turn of phrase. They could see the battle going on off to the side.

I need to get back. Forcing himself to his feet, the young Jedi Knight was groggy, but there was an enormous part of him that just wanted to put his arms around the sister he wished he had.

She smiled and met his request before he made it. Suddenly there was an illicit glow of light emanating from them until they pulled away.

Kiddo… you need to know what has happened.

I’m so confused right now. What… I thought… aren’t you… I don’t mean this badly, but aren’t you supposed to be gone forever? She then, with a smirk, looked at her own reflection.

I think I look pretty good for someone who isn’t supposed to be here, but there you go.

Father told me the stories… you… the entire bloodline… weren’t you there to help him?

She nodded “yes” to the question. Yeah, and we did. Now I’m here to help you.

I… don’t understand…

I’ll always be connected to Daddy in some way, I can feel him right now on the planet fighting like he always did. Right now I’m here for you. You have a choice. You can either come with me, or… She gestured back to the fighting.

I don’t understand… Am I dead?

No… you’re sort of… “in between”. I pulled you out so we could finally talk.

YOU did this?

She smirked. Yep. It’s one of a lot of things I’ve learned here.

So, you’re like a “Force Ghost”? She just laughed at the thought.

Noooo nothing so simple. Look, right now you have a choice. You can hang here with me. You can watch over Daddy, and help him however you can. I’ll teach you. Connel didn’t like where this was going.

Or…

Or… you can go back. Pulling you out like this was a “one time” thing. I can’t do it again. I’ll be able to watch over you and help in other ways… but you’ll be on your own. His anxiety was slowly coming back… the feeling of being truly “alone” again….

I don’t know what to do… I’m…

Have you ever found someone you had never thought you would find, only to lose them almost immediately? A family member that had been long lost only to lose them all over again? That is what Connel was going through right now and it was becoming too much to bear. His legs were slowly turning to jelly.

Little brother… don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. You're stronger than you think you are, you have something in you that is going to make a difference out there. The one you want to make. I get it. Your afraid...

So, you know…

You need to go back down there. She put her hands on his shoulders. You’ve got too much to fight for. Too much that you’re needed for. You're going to be great, Little brother, you already are. I'm more than proud of you.

but… we just met…

Come here. She smiled and pulled him into another hug. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Whenever you sense something… someone… that’s me telling you. When you see something happen in the future? That’s me telling you. When you got "Buster", I pushed your hand to his ear. When you almost died… I helped keep you alive… in fact… She pulled away, only to put her hands on his cheeks setting everything aglow again. Where he once felt like there were “two sides” of him, they were gone, where he once felt anxiety, it was gone, where he once felt fear… well it was still there but tempered. She smiled, her eyes still bright, and said, I’m a part of you, and you’re a part of me. We’ve been together since the beginning of time.

He had never felt this… whole… it drove him to tears…

Thank you… thank you for this. I'll never forget you. In the middle of one last hug, he smiled, a smile radiating warmth and light. He wanted to stay in this embrace forever. He felt like he was home.
She smiled one more time.

Tell our sister about me.

“Sister?”

What?

Wait!

Suddenly the light blinded him and he was back on the battlefield, Ryana was there shouting his name and shaking him. He was back, and with a whole new sense of person, of presence, of being, and of purpose. He was not “Caltin Vanagor 2.0”, but he was not the scared kid he once was, or the nervous Knight was proving to be. Connel was slowly getting to his feet, the Reek was lining up for another run as the Terentatek was closing in as well. Stormtroopers were following them in an emboldened but cowardly fashion. Now he was mad. Catching his breath, he felt something inside, something powerful.

Putting a reassuring, but grateful hand on her arm as he stood, still hunched. He grunted.

"The Force is with me,
And I am one with the Force;
And I fear nothing,
Because all is as the Force wills it."

"The Force is with me,
And I am one with the Force;
And I fear nothing,
Because all is as the Force wills it."

"The Force is with me,
And I am one with the Force;
And I fear nothing,
Because all is as the Force wills it."

"THE FORCE IS WITH ME,
AND I AM ONE WITH THE FORCE;
AND I FEAR NOTHING,
BECAUSE ALL IS AS THE FORCE WILLLLLSSS IIIIIITTTTTTT!!!!!" Letting go of what was holed up in his body, Connel released all of the pent up energy inside of him. The light, the force(no pun intended), the energy all expanding into some powerful blinding wave pushing back at the Leviathans, the beasts, the Stormtroopers, all of them. Everything that was based in darkness felt his wrath(so to speak) there was a destructive push to it all that took down the dark beasts as quickly as they rose.

The expulsion of power took almost everything from him, and Connel dropped to a knee again. Love you little brother…always… scratch “Buster” on the ear, and take care of Ryana and “Pip” as best you can… I have nothing but faith in you… Connel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He suddenly felt a strong presence beside him, and he opened his eyes to see his sister standing at his side. He smiled weakly, and leaned in to hug her one last time but it was a mirage, he was hugging Ryana.

Pulling away suddenly, he huffed, Sorry. I’ll tell you about what just happened, but after we’re done here…. When the second group, overseen by Thurion Heavenshield approached, he had a powerful look in his eyes.

Your time is limited; don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Let’s go take this moon back!

 

[Roman Vossari]

Bogan
Lightsaber: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Casaana | Thurion Heavenshield | Anneliese Kaohal | Caelan Valoren | @Others

​

As Roman cradled Anneliese in his arms, he felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over him. The chaos of the battlefield seemed to fade away, and all that existed was her, fragile and beautiful amidst the ruins of their lives. He could still hear the echoes of blaster fire and the cries of the wounded around them, but at that moment, none of it mattered. All he could focus on was Anneliese's face--her smile, her pain, and the fierce determination that shone through her exhaustion.

His heart ached with guilt as she recounted how they had been ambushed in the temple, how Caelan had suffered, and how Iston had sacrificed everything to save them. Roman's grip tightened around her gently, as he fought back the memories of how easily he had lost sight of her during the mayhem. "I should have been there, Anneliese." he murmured softly, his gaze flickering to young Padawan he assumed was Caelan, who looked pale and shaken yet resolute--the weight of their shared ordeal evident on his young face.

"I'm so sorry." He tried to mask the tremor in his voice, hoping she wouldn't see the shadows of fear flickering in his eyes. He turned toward Casaana, who stepped closer with an air of authority about her. "This is Casaana," he introduced, nodding in her direction. "She helped me when I was injured. Perhaps she can help you and Caelan."

When Anneliese pulled out her engagement ring, a flicker of joy shot through Roman's heart, dispelling the shadows of despair that threatened to engulf him. He gently clasped the ring, their fingers intertwining in an intimate embrace, the warmth of her hand igniting a fire of determination within him. "I love you too, Anneliese," he said, his voice steady now, imbued with unwavering conviction. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Not here."

As her attention shifted to the imposing figure of the knight behind him, Roman turned slightly, bringing her gaze into focus. There was a reverence in the way she regarded Thurion, an almost incredulous awe, and Roman couldn't help but chuckle lightly at Anneliese's disbelief. "No, he's definitely there." he said, his tone teasing yet filled with admiration. "He has been our savior through hell and back. He's the reason we've made it this far."

An explosion in the distance punctuated the air, and Roman's heart dropped as its echoes faded into the tense silence that followed. He could already hear the sounds of muffled cries and heavy footsteps approaching. He felt a tremor run through him, anxiety coiling tight in his stomach. Thurion, bolstered by righteous fury, launched himself into the fray with a deafening battle cry, leaving Roman torn between admiration and alarm. The old knight seemed to believe he could take on the oncoming horde by himself, but the reality of their situation felt far from reassuring.

Glancing sideways, Roman caught sight of Anneliese cradled against him, her pained expression revealing her struggle to maintain composure. "Can you go on?" he asked softly, concern laced in his voice, uncertainty creeping into his heart. He shifted his gaze towards Caelan; the boy was pale-faced, visibly shaken, and Roman felt a surge of sympathy for this fellow padawan. They were just young adults, children even, caught in this chaos, forced to bear burdens far heavier than any of them should have to.

A flicker of doubt passed through Roman as he regarded Casaana, who remained close by. He wondered if she had the strength to keep both of them combat-ready; healing one minor injury had already visibly drained her. He felt powerless, but Thurion was already engaging the enemy, frantically stirring Roman from his reverie. Determination surged through him like a wildfire. He couldn't let the knight face down an entire battalion alone, not when they had the chance to make a difference. Glancing once more at Caelan and Anneliese, he felt the urgency of the moment radiate around them like heat waves.

"Casaana..." he called out, his eyes locking onto her as she approached Caelan, warning her not to overextend herself. Roman torn a strip of cloth from his robes, quickly fashioning it into a makeshift sling for Anneliese's injured arm. "You need something to support your arm; this will help." he said, gently looping it around her shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly. Hesitating, he picked up her lightsaber and placed it firmly in her right hand, hoping the familiar weight would instill some confidence in her despite her injury.

"I've got your back." he assured Annie, summoning a burst of courage. He turned to gather his own lightsaber, igniting it with a familiar snap-hiss as the emerald blade sprang forth, its glow casting an ethereal light against the encroaching darkness. The anticipation of battle ignited a fire within him, driving away the remnants of fear that had lingered.

"Together," he called to the group, glancing back at Casaana and Caelan. "We can help him. We can't stay here." His heart thudded heavily in anticipation as he took a determined step forward, leading them towards the roiling chaos of combat, ready to join Thurion in the fight against the encroaching shadows.

 

[Casaana]

Objective 3
Friendly tag: Roman Vossari Aiden Porte Ko Vuto Caelan Valoren Samuel Creed Thurion Heavenshield Anneliese Kaohal Caelan Valoren
Enemy tag: Saa Montemar Sid Berik Detritus Ren
Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster, Armor, Demolition Charges.

Roman sure was embracing his sister rather closely, but then she had just been through a lot and oh... there was a ring. Maybe it was their mother's and she was showing it was safe, yeah. That was why they were professing their love. Casaana looked away as the battlefield got blurry and the couple radiated their feelings out. "Hi Thurion," She greeted the Knight while trying to blink some dirt out of her eye. Explosions sure kicked up a bunch of the stuff. She'd have to get some goggles, or a helmet that closed. But then she couldn't scratch. But what if there was gas or something? Now that was a dilemma. Oh, Thurion was still talking. Wow, he even spoke like a storybook knight. Who was Ashla? She felt like she should know.

A sudden bout of stubbornness stiffened her spine as Roman called her name, a warning in his tone. She didn't know why, it wasn't like they really knew each other either. "Caelan was it? I can help a bit." She told the boy that looked about her age. He looked really beat up, especially in his shoulder. He'd also said he didn't want any healing, but Casaana could use something to do and he seemed about as upset as her at the moment, so she reached out a hand to hover over the hole burned through his shoulder and gently extended her senses towards him. "Okay, so we've got the shoulder bones, and the arm bone," as if she knew their names, "and the socket into the... ball joint? And the muscles and ugh... the nerves." Those seemed pretty messed up. "How about I...?" As she channeled the force, the fog rose up in her mind again, as if looking over her shoulder like a concerned teacher. At least she wasn't poking at it like she'd done Iko's leg when he'd been shot a few years back. Carefully, very carefully, she channeled the same healing 'Curato Salva' used into the area, soothing the burns and inflammation. It was probably an awful idea to pull the nerves back together. Lightsabers cut near microscopically, it was the cauterization burns and then trying to reconnect them. Yeah, she was out of her depth.

Pulling back, she shook her head with a grimace. "Sorry, I can't really do anything more for the arm." She offered over her fresh blaster butt-first. "I think Roman's right. We're far enough in that we're going to have to go all the way through. Can you shoot a lefty? I could use someone covering my back." It wasn't very comforting, looking into his eyes, she knew that he'd already been through so much. And it cut her up to ask more of someone just as lost as her in all of this, but a part of her also thought that handing him a blaster and risking getting him killed would what? Be good for him in the long run? Teach him that he hadn't failed and been useless? Did he think that? If he did leave, Casaana resolved to leave with him to make sure he didn't wallow in misery about it. Or get killed.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo


Tags: Roman Vossari Aiden Porte Thurion Heavenshield Casaana Caelan Valoren
Location: Bogan
Objective 3​

As Thurion introduced himself to her and Caelan, an odd disbelieving smile stretched across her face as she looked to Roman. “I’m telling Master Val when we make it through this that I meet a legitimate Knight — freaking awesome.”

As Casaana approached the two, Anneliese looked up at her, weary but a warm smile stretched across her face. “Hey Casaana, it’s nice to meet you… I’m Anneliese. It’d be better under different circumstances. That’s Caelan — thank you for, well a lot. Helping to fight with Roman, trying to heal Caelan.”

As Roman began to stretch and move her arm back and around and asked the words “Can you go on?” Her eyes narrowed at him as she spoke, her voice reclaiming some of the hardened edge that had been there earlier. “Rewrap the damn thing — I’ve still got one good arm and two good legs. Try and stop me.” In truth, her arm hurt like hell now, but — she knew going back into the crucible of battle would once again awaken the adrenaline rush she’d become used to feeling and the pain would subside once again.

As Roman would go to binding her arm up in a splint and even tighter and more secure, a profanity here and there would slip from her mouth, followed immediately by apologies. As he finished binding her arm and securing it in the sling she let out a deep exhale as it tingled and burned, but felt better. Roman had done a much better job wrapping and securing the arm than she’d done, but it guess that’s what happens when you have two functional hands.

Tucking her ring back into her undershirt he offered his hand to help her up.

As he helped her to stand to her feet she suddenly was overcome by a wave of dizziness, but it subsided quickly. Closing her eyes and breathing in and out slowly, calling upon the force. Her body was tired, it was injured — her mind gnawed at her, putting up doubts, what ifs, limits — but that was the thing. She had limits, she got tired, she got hurt…. But the force was none of those things.

She could do all things by and through the force.

The power she’d felt previously began to return into her limbs as she opened her eyes, burning once again with a passion and desire to help Thurion push the tide back. Darkness was the absence of light and in that darkness they were the light… they had to fight. Looking at Roman, her hand came over and squeezed his, her voice coming out just above a whisper as she leaned in and pressed her head to his forehead. “Weirdest damn date in my opinion… but Roman, nobodies side I’d rather be by than your side. Till death do us part… so let’s live and live to the fullest.” Giving him a quick kiss, one she’d wished would linger — but now was not the time nor place — as Iston’s words rung in her head, there was much work for the living to do. They were far from done.

Hollering over to Caelan and Casaana, she gripped the hilt of her saber. “Together — remember Calean, you’re stronger than you think. Live, for Arhiia.” Her eyes fixed on her little brother. As her words escaped her lips, her yellow blade would erupt forth with an “crack-hiss”, shining like the rays of the mourning sun. Roman and her both began to walk, then, in an all out sprint make their way right behind Thurion.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Iston Voronwe's Saber, Mother's Lightsaber Crystal Necklace
TAGS: Anneliese Kaohal | Roman Vossari | Casaana | Thurion Heavenshield | Connel Vanagor

The large, armored man approached, touched his good shoulder and said some things that were meant to make Caelan feel better, or at least to help him focus. He didn't say anything in response to him, just stood there, hoping someone would help him get away from this place. That's all he wanted. He wanted to go back to Arhiaa, to see her, to feel her hand in his. That was the comfort he sought, not the words of a stranger or even those of his sister. He just wanted to be near her.

The other padawan, Casaana they said her name was, came over to look at his shoulder. He didn't flinch or pull away, he just stood there, arm in a sling, and let her look at it, which didn't last long before she said she couldn't do anything more.

"I didn't want anyone to heal it anyway," he said, looking at her with distant eyes. "It's not worth your energy."

She asked if he could shoot a lefty, and to be honest, he'd never shot a blaster in his life. Nor did he want to. He stared at the weapon in her hand, but instead reached down and unclipped Iston's lightsaber from his belt, showing to her that he had a weapon already. Not that he wanted to use it. He didn't want to fight anymore. He'd not wanted to fight when he'd come there. All he wanted to do was help the injured and get them to safety, which was a good role for a padawan with no combat experience. Instead, he'd been pulled into the battle, and now all he could see was death everywhere he looked.

When Annie spoke to him, he looked at her and then down at the saber in his hand. Fight for Arhiaa? That didn't make sense to him. If he left now, sought evacuation, he would remain safe for her. Going into the battle wasn't going to make it certain he would return to her. If anything, it was going to make it far less likely, despite the people he had around them. And, to be honest, even though he'd expressed the desire to fight when they were leaving the temple behind, that feeling had washed free of him.

The others all moved towards the battle and he stood there watching them, despite the beastly noise he heard in the distance. In that moment, he wondered what would happen if he just left. Walked away. Not just from the battle, but from everything. No more being a prince. No more being a Jedi. What if he went back, gave Arhiaa her father's saber, and then just disappeared. He could survive. He'd find a way, somewhere he could be a farmer or something of that nature. Maybe live in the woods as a hermit, avoid anything to do with the galaxy at large. It sounded enticing.

"-death, is not... the end.. You... are... stronger, than.. you think."

Those words found their way into his mind as he looked down at the saber, fingers tightening around it. Stronger. Be stronger.

You're so strong, Caelan.

He closed his eyes, forgetting the hurt, the pain, remembering what he'd been told. That he was strong. That he had to be strong, and not just for Arhiaa, but for Annie, and Roman, and Casaana. For the people back on Lazerian IV who needed him. For the people now that needed him.

Thumb clicked the activation switch on the saber and a yellow blade sprang forth. He tested the weight in his hand, just once to make sure he was comfortable, and then he turned to where the others had gone. A grim determination set over him as he broke into a sprint after the others, determined to do something he had never thought to do: take a life. It was the end point of everything. After this battle, the Caelan that had been innocent, carefree, wouldn't hurt a fly, would be completely gone.

The enemies of freedom had to die.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Objective: Safeguard Padawans
Tags: Roman Vossari Anneliese Kaohal Casaana Caelan Valoren
Target: OPEN

"Up onto the o'erturned keel..."

Wading into the enemy with bloodbound zeal and decades-honed skill, the High King of Midvinter recited the ancient skalds as he bashed aside the first few attackers using his Force-augmented shield, sending what wasn't immediately pulverised from the impact strewn across the blackened field.

"...clamber, with a heart of steel!"

He followed it up with a vertical slash of his sword, breaking the guard of a Sith acolyte and cleaving them in twain right down the middle until his blade tasted cold earth.

"Cold is the ocean's spray..."

Before the bisected Sith was even given the chance to come apart, their lifeless form was smashed aside by a club-wielding Leviathan, utterly disregarding their puny allies. Thurion was just able to bring his shield up to catch the blunt end of the brute's improvised cudgel, sending him sliding back several feet along the ground.

"...and your death is on its way!"

The second Sithspawn howled menacingly as it joined the melee, bringing its fists down to crush the Knight into paste. He side-stepped the earth-shattering slam and slashed it in its meaty flank; a miniscule wound for such a behemoth, yet enough to cause its corrupted flesh to be set ablaze by the purifying flame of Anarion, incinerating it from within.

"With maidens you have had your way..."

The first Leviathan attacked again, bashing the Lion's shield so hard it tore the man-sized relic from his arm. He switched to a two-handed stance, severing one of the Sithspawn's arms, limiting its ability to wield its oversized club. As the creature reeled at the searing pain, the Shield of Heaven obeyed its master's command and levitated off the ground, hurling itself at the Leviathan with such velocity that its pointy end embedded itself in the neck, showering the land in black bile and leaving the tortured being choking on its own blood.

"...each must die some day — hrngh!"

A blaster round dinged off his helmet, doing little to compromise its integrity yet was enough to disrupt his balance, leaving an opening for a lucky shot to find its way betwixt greave and poleyn, hitting him in the joint just below the knee. The Lion was forced to his knees momentarily, fending off Sith and soldiers alike by the time the quartet of padawans arrived in the nick of time to assume some of the heat.

Upon gathering himself enough to stand, Thurion thumped his chest and rejoined the young braves with blade in hand.

"But it is not today, old man," he muttered to himself.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Bogan
Lightsaber: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Casaana | Thurion Heavenshield | Anneliese Kaohal | Caelan Valoren | Connel Vanagor | Ryana mina | @Others

​

Roman could hear the clang of battle even before stepping onto the blackened field, the air thick with the scent of burnt flesh and charred terrain. He and the quartet of Padawans charged forward, a storm of youthful determination surging into a chaotic melee where Thurion, forged his path through the dark tide of the Dark Empire. Roman's heart raced, adrenaline spilling into his limbs as they arrived at the edge of the fray, where Leviathans towered over the battlefield, grotesque manifestations of dark power matched only by their brutal strength.

At the forefront, Thurion's shield clashed against the twisted, sinewy arms of the nightmarish Leviathans, and Roman felt the ground shake beneath him as one of the creatures swung its massive club, sending shockwaves of fear and awe through the Padawans. Among them was Anneliese, her left arm secured in a sling. Even so, the fire in her eyes burned brighter than ever, a fierce testament to her resolve. The group fell into action, Roman and Anneliese flanking their comrades as they ignited their lightsabers in unison, his vibrant green blade cutting through the murky chaos.

Roman leapt forward, immediately targeting a trio of Dark Empire soldiers who bore down on them with malevolent intent. He twisted his body, using the Force to enhance his agility as he flicked his wrist, sending the first trooper sprawling backward. The second soldier's blaster fire grazed Roman's shoulder, but he brushed it off as he twisted into a fluid motion, learning from and adapting to the onslaught around him. He parried the next trooper's strike with a deft flick of his blade, and in a fluid movement, he took advantage of his opponent's momentary confusion, disarming him and sending the blaster skittering across the ground.

"There's no escape!" one soldier shouted, as Roman pivoted to face them with his eyes fixed on Anneliese, keeping a watchful eye on her despite the chaos that enveloped them like a storm cloud. Whenever she moved, he felt a surge of protectiveness, even with her one good arm whirling her saber with deadly grace. They were all in danger, yet she fought with unyielding ferocity, the spirit of a warrior unbroken, igniting a flicker of confidence in Roman's heart.

But that flicker was quickly snuffed out as one of the Leviathan's tentacles lashed out from the chaos, catching Roman off guard and knocking him off balance. He crashed to the ground, his lightsaber clattering away from his grasp. Dazed, he looked up just in time to see a trooper closing in on him, knife glinting in the dim light, ready to end the fight before it could even truly begin. Instinct kicked in; years of training raced back to him as he rolled to the side, avoiding the blade just as it swooped down towards him.

In a blur driven by adrenaline, Roman seized the trooper's wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the knife nearly slipped from their grasp. In the ensuing struggle, they wrestled for dominance, and Roman's training shone through--a quick jab to the soldier's gut sent him doubling over, and with a surge of energy, Roman redirected the blade upward. The soldier's eyes widened in shock as the knife found its mark, piercing right underneath the breastplate and sending a spray of red swirling through the air.

A visceral stillness fell over Roman in that moment; his breath stilled, heart racing yet somehow frozen in time. He stayed locked in place as he stared into the soldier's eyes, witnessing the horror and incomprehension reflected in his gaze. That was when the realization struck him, a sickening weight lodging deep within his stomach: the line he crossed had become irrevocably smeared. It was the first time he had faced the finality of death--not from a distance but hand-in-hand with brutality.

The man before him wheezed, the last remnants of life dissipating like smoke. Blood trickled from the corner of the soldier's mouth as the light that once sparkled in his eyes dulled. Roman trembled, grappling with the magnitude of what he had done. He had trained tirelessly to wield the Force for the good of the everyone, and yet here he was, staring into the face of his adversary, recognizing the fragility of life in such a brutal galaxy.

Through the anguish and horror, Roman's instincts kicked up again, jolting him into action. He quickly pushed himself off the ground, grabbing his fallen lightsaber and dashing back into the fray. There would be no time to dwell on the atrocity of war when the lives of his friends hung precariously in the balance. Anneliese felt his presence as he swept beside her, instinctively forming a fighting pair--a defiant shield against the dark tide threatening to swallow them whole. They fought together now, united by their shared resolve against the encroaching chaos of the troopers and the leviathan horrors that threatened to uproot their very humanity.

 

[Casaana]

Objective 3
Friendly tag: Roman Vossari Aiden Porte Ko Vuto Caelan Valoren Samuel Creed Thurion Heavenshield Anneliese Kaohal Caelan Valoren
Enemy tag: Saa Montemar Sid Berik Detritus Ren
Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster, Armor, Demolition Charges.

Well he was a grumpy pants. But Casaana figured he had good reason to be. Not that he should get to dictate how she used her connection to the Force, 'size mattering not' and all that. "I'm good." She told him so he wouldn't worry about her, and re-holstered her pistol as he drew a lightsaber. She'd figured it would be better to shoot than try to sword fight with an arm down, but maybe he'd trained as a lefty. The Girl was talking to her, thanking her really, and Casaana felt a little childish. "Yeah, it's... It's a good thing." She replied, not really sure what to say. She wasn't upset with Anneliese, she decided. Or Roman. They really only just met on the transport at the last minute and all she knew of him was that he was beautiful, and capable, and caring. She shook the feelings off. As a Jedi she was better than this. So she gave Anneliese a tired smile, "He's good to have in a fight, thanks for lending him to me."

A short ways away Thurion was singing as he charged back into the fray, and she followed his example. Raising her lightsaber high as she moved to join him and Roman in attacking the Imperial legions before they could reform. From somewhere inside her, a few broken and half-remembered lines rose up, and she began to sing out "C********************!" Keeping the Knight's instructions in mind even as she belted out lyrics, Casaana kept to Anneliese's flank, opposite of Roman, as her arm was in a sling. Just close enough to support without being in each other's way as she ducked, blocked, and twirled her way through Ataru's slashing and flourishing forms. Two hands on the saber for greater stability, alternating with one-handed grips for speed and range of motion as the blade became a green blur around her.

"********************" A leviathan loped towards them, Roman in peril as it knocked him aside. With a shove of the Force, Casaana sent an Imperial trooper stumbling into the lashing tentacles to be grabbed and eaten or absorbed by the beast, buying her time to spin past another, a rear spin of her saber cutting through him behind her before she lept upon the creature's back. Landing poorly, her lightsaber still managed to stab into the beast as she sprawled across its broad shoulders. The leviathan roared out in pain and beat at her with flailing tentacles as her sliding fall from it dragged her blade through the creature until it fell still to the ground and she rolled off of it. "*******************************!"

 

[Thomas Barran]

4th Post

BATTLE FOR BALANCE
-THE COREWARD CHRONICLES-

THE_BLOODHOUND
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH
HEATHEN SAINT OF OUTLAWS AND ROGUES
GREAT KHAN OF THE MAWSWORN TRIBES

Tags
Friend: Detritus Ren Keilara Kala'myr Saa Montemar Sid Berik
Rackham Phoenix Kasari

Foe: Valery Noble Connel Vanagor Roman Vossari Ryana mina
Gress D'ran Aiden Porte Ko Vuto Casaana Minerva Fhirdiad
Naxa Zalita Noah Corek Jr. Caelan Valoren Samuel Creed
Zark San Tekka Thurion Heavenshield

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR IX: ON A HEATHEN'S MOON - PART 6

MOON: BOGAN,
OUTER ORBITAL SPHERE, TYTHON (902 ABY)

'Heh! Fair point.... An' bein' honest, I may have to take you up on that offer from time to time.'
​

Regardless of how short the baby-steps of progress were in reality, Barran saw this steady improvement in sibling-rapport as a grand, ambitious leap along the right path, another sign that the curses around them were meant to be broken by the plucky light of mortals who defied the architects of their pain. Doomed as consequence for ruining all semblance of hope and autonomy in the Marauder caste, the retribution of Mercy and the Blodhound would be absolute, and to apocalyptic extremes - as was believed to be expected of survivors envied by their hidden foes.

That contract of blood and mind, powerful though it always was, could no longer be honoured.

The Will of the Sith'ari was known to be transactional already, making the binding aspects of the Dark Lord's power all the stronger in matters of effective control, but the Great Khan had been scratching at these walls of control for decades already by then, sensing he neared to the mystery of his own resurrection. For that same entity which pulled Barran from the realms of the dead (miraculous though it seemed to the otherwise-secular Scar Hounds of old at the time) was also responsible for dragging his greatest nemesis from the Nether in turn. Making the entity within a rogue element, working it's own magic, playing it's own games, never once being on the Woad's side for all it helped to aid him in combat before.

'Especially on the matter of the Omen, as I must admit that more awaits to tell - as I'm truly beginning to believe it's something worse than a mere implantation of title, of epithet.... An' with that, there's an intensified belief there could also be something more to the reasoning for my resurrection.'

Just one sidelong glance to Mercy would be needed to express urgency in his revelation, as something to be mindful about, especially when trapped with thoughts on which hidden hands of fate were working against the Khanate, as this was just one of the many threads of which the Tribal Matriarch would need to unravel with the Great Khan along the way. So the offered promise from his sister would be internalised, though mostly because the one-eyed Woad had known he would need many thumps to the cranium (and with it, answers and solutions from Mercy's perspective-) before he was done with the thing that dragged him back from the Nether.

'Ah, this Omen.... I can feel it in my bones, yet I know its not me, but rather, something else - within me. Independent of it's host, an' every time I call on that savagery in the deepest depths of my soul, this entity eats a little more of that,"Self", I retain from before.'

Blind-siding himself to the northeast front, the Bloodhound would continue expressing an earnest of which Mercy likely had never seen in her brother before, and with it a newfound confidence in his frontline safety as he continued,'Almost as if it's sole purpose is to feralize it's host, an' perhaps enough that I become someone else entirely.... I know I don't need it, Mercy. But it needs me somehow, an' for reasons that still elude me after almost thirty years - so its time to sever that bond, once an' for all!', heedless of shifting battle-lines and GADF movements alike. The Great Khan had grown considerably stronger in his time on Kolene, and in his rising power, had become better-attuned to the abilities the Tribal Matriarch had been teaching him over the years, standing readier than ever to keep Mercy alive.

For as long as Mercy would need to endure the risk of standing with one of the Galaxy's Most-Wanted fugitives, the Heathen Saint of Rogues and Outlaws would need to have enough in wit and wariness to protect the only family he had, as Thomas knew he would never be able to forgive himself if lapses in his judgement led to the death of the Tribal Matriarch. A loss of which Barran knew would thoroughly diminish morale within the ranks of the Marauders' hordes, a felling blow to the hopes of many a Mawsworn aspiration, implications of which the Bloodhound would never even think to entertain, for that was not a destiny the Khan would ever accept.

Death could only take a Marauder when she earned such an indomitable soul, and in the one-eyed view of the resurrected Woad, Mother Death had no right to lay so much as a passing glance on the Tribal Matriarch - not for as long as the Great Khan persisted in clinging to existence in Realspace.

'Honestly, Sis.... As opposed to the monster-within, I'm genuinely starting to prefer the things I learn from those who matter-'

eeeeeeEEEEEEYOOOM-​

With idled right hand free, and mind in a relieved, elasticated flowstate, the incoming blaster shot would find it's target, sure as the long-shot capabilities of his well-hidden opponent. But before the blaster-trail could reach the Golden Skull, fated to clash with the ruby that replaced the right eye he sacrificed, (coincidentally the same eye he cut out on Tython twenty-six years before) the short-lived trajectory would hover exactly where it's sharpshooter expected it to be; exhibiting a bittersweet testament to the aim and execution-form of the sniper's delivery, seen arcing downwards from an outlying angle, a clear mark of wind-and-distance calculation. The shooter was experienced, and it's halted, hissing idled position, the work could not be faulted from a military perspective, and to such a level that even Barran himself would have applauded to see this level of proficiency in his Marauders.

'Case.... In.... Point!'

PYOOOOoooooo....​

But the Bloodhound himself, despite his renown across the Galaxy as a military-minded entity in his own right, had been steadily evolving into a different animal entirely, standing with comfort enough to exhibit the one thing that separated the Khan from all his most-opportunistic foes. A display so subtle that it seemed Thomas would need no extra power to execute his deflection perfectly, or at least not in matters of blaster-trail redirection, as all that was needed was the means and mastery of methods the Khan had learned from the Matriarch already.

'You taught me that, remember? Something else for which you can allow yourself to feel pride.'

Staying in the cadence of his own rhythm like the ebb and flow of war to which he was attuned, what was sent from the keen shot of a blaster rifle would be sent back the way it came, and with little more than the unified outward flick of thumb, index and middle fingers, as if the Khan was swatting off the irritation of a fly that wasn't there. Barran would soon find himself chuckling at the hidden boon to the sharpshooter's efforts, only then coming to the realisation that the shot was also taken to his blindside, showing an advanced level of timing, patience and focus of which Thomas couldn't help but admire, sensing the GADF were finally sending their best to face the Khanate in battle. A development of which the Bloodhound knew would be viewed as auspicious by the Marauder caste, as many a Mawsworn warlord had complained of meeting firepower where mettle was expected, and after losing Nail Darkhan to an orbital bombardment, many had been spoiling for a fight since.

Especially after Empress Teta, and this only seemed to intensify tenfold with time, and in the wake of Imperial defeat on Coruscant, any defeat that meant the imprisonment of their Khan would mean riling up those viewed as outlaws by every faction in the Galaxy. Every slight had been viewed as reason to slander, to subvert and even to stand against the Galaxy's superpowers, and for as long as it had taken to free the Bloodhound from his captors on Kolene, many of the Galaxy's outlaws began to seek out the Ark. Weaponizing a disdain for civilisation, appealing to the Galaxy in ways that carried a sense of foreboding for all their enemies, and with so many slaves, prisoners and outcasts freed in uprisings already, the numbers who had willingly joining the ranks of the vagabonds would comprise of thousands.

And all were chomping at the bit for a chance to fight the Galaxy's powers, chanting for Bloodhound Khan to lead them against real opposition - in a real war.

'Your training has proven far more useful in situations like these for instance, an' far more relevant than anything the Omen can provide me now.... Food for thought.'

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR IX: ON A HEATHEN'S MOON - PART 7

BEYOND THE SHIELD DOME, MOON: BOGAN,
TYTHON (902 ABY)

ROOK DARKHAN - 3

<"Rook to Seven! Gimme a Sit-Rep!">
<"Eight and Nine took the skiffs and remaining droids behind the Shield Dome, and my contingent are just approaching past the initial engagement. Assuming autonomy to engage!">​

Beholden to his station, the on-duty commander could do little but remain steadfast at his post, but in the time he was taking to increase his own familiarity with the process, Rook realised that he could still be of great use to all the Mawsworn boots on the ground at the time. Even seeing that same potential in Capaq, though in understanding of Chiss-born intellectual capability, realised he should have seen it resonating within the Skulls of Nine's most-prominent member, as Rook had always seen it resonating within Dreamer in turn. Though the redeeming aspect to missing the wonders of the mercenary leader, unlikely though it was at the time, was the fact the warrior within had noted swordsman-potential in Capaq, Gorm and Zarral alike, and all before his Khan could get around to telling their story.

'Might as well, not like I'm gonna stop 'im in his tracks here.'

<"Works for me, Seven. Good luck over there - and keep an eye out for friendlies on your left flank.">
<"Copy that, Ulusar.... Much obliged. Seven - out!">
​

Taking his Comm-Link receiver and terminal with him outside, Rook would elect on the spot to climb to the roof of the outpost, but upon reaching the roof itself, the Arkanian was quick to feel a little naked without his Holographic plinth. Thus he had no other option but to use the momentary lull in comm-link traffic in what seemed like a needless waste of time, running downstairs and back with the map-projection plinth before he realised one of Dreamer's many advantages, known near-infamously for utilising staffers of which Rook himself rejected before walking off to the Ark's pod-release sectors. A decision he would soon come to rue, especially after finally getting to raise his rifle scope in an eastward direction, time had been wasted enough already, and enough that it was immediately apparent that the Darkhan had missed the last flight of BD Gold's squadron.

'FPV Droids - up.... Settings - loitering, scan for chatter.... Eastward - maximum reach.'

Made all the more gut-wrenching to consider when a scan on the comm-link revealed no logged Mawsworn traffic within the GADF's assault-sector, making it seem like the pilots aboard the crashed ships were never there, though Rook knew it was a lingering, ideological refusal to be taken prisoner by Core-Worlders. Though the solemnity of their comm-silence told of something more personal, veiling their explanation why such an obstinate need for privacy would be needed in their final moments, and in consideration of the fact this century made no sense to men who considered themselves obsolete, the disdain for their enemies would seem to pale in relevance to their last vows.

And all in Gold's squadron were resolute in their desire to go out with a bang, and had been for decades.

'Oh, please don't tell me he went dark on comms before the end... Are you fethin' KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!'

As the white-eyed Darkhan lowered the barrel of his Slugthrower-Rifle, he would be resigned to growling through gritted teeth as the forward-zoom of the rifle's scope was enhanced twice over, aggravated further by the brief wait before seeing debris and multiple crash-sites when the scope looked eastward once more, and all before Rook could calm himself enough to scan the battlefield properly. By then almost forgetting what the B-Doomsayers' main objective had been before they scrambled for deployment, as even the infamously-vicious Arkanian understood what such losses would mean for their peers' morale, thus the payloads they were carrying at the time would have little and less bearing on the losses of the ones who were beelining to drop them.

Strewn across the Bogan moon's mesas, it's southernmost craters and all across the GADF-controlled segment of the battlefront, either in crashed or exploded heaps of scrap-metal, the rifle's scope had no trouble in picking up every last horrifying detail; but in his eye-opening introduction to the power of the GADF's anti-air capabilities, in the midst of an aftermath to horrors of which Rook had been too slow to catch, something else caught the eye of the Darkhan in the heat of existential dismay. A sight of which the Arkanian would skip past more than a few times before curiosity finally took control of the scope, and not only in terms of respect for ones who would give rise to the following mood-swing, but also in feeling it was irrelevant if the sortie itself had ended in a 100% fatality rate for an entire air-support squadron.

But even the lowest of all Aspirants, of all low-and-scummy Raiders and all their ilk, every last archetype of the dumb henchman would be able to make the same easy assumption, the Darkhan would ponder on the payloads eventually. BD Gold's squadron had received these orders from the Great Khan after all, and if these orders were issued by the Bloodhound personally, it wouldn't take long for the realisation to dawn on the white-eyed Swordsman from there; Gold's best pilots were carrying something important, and enough that they knew the ultimate gamble would needed, especially if they wished to cause as much mayhem as possible.

The payloads, to the Darkhan's great amazement, were not strategical, but biological - encased within container cages for as long as they remained in the air with the Doomsayer ships that carried them in.

'FPV Droids - new orders.... Settings - loitering, scan for threats.... West, north and east - low to mid range.'

​

Whatever was on the precipice of transpiring in the wake of BD Gold's blaze of glory, had resulted in impacts strong enough to break the locking mechanism's on the containers that lay strewn across the south-eastern battlefront, and when the Arkanian eventually understood what had been dropped, and why, the newfound understanding of his Woad-born Khan would be nothing shy of an awakening. An enlightenment of which would draw Rook ever closer to the guile and cunning of his dearest friends, especially when the contents of these containers began to claw their way out from within, and with the recognition of the beasts BD Gold was carrying behind enemy lines, the Darkhan had finally found his context as to why such a daring sortie was needed in the first place.

First to be seen and remembered properly (consequently reminding Rook of the planet the Bogan moon was orbiting at the time) were the Wingmaws, creatures once native to Balmorra but had long-since taken root to claim it's place among Tython's fauna, and at least two swarms had been released from their cage-containers in the crash-landings. But next, and these would be the only other species to be thrown in as far as Rook could tell, would be none other than the same monsters the Scar Hounds retrieved before engaging in the previous battle for Tython, marking a distinct departure from the curses of yesteryear.

'UUUUUUUUUURRRRRGH!!!!'
​

Seen tearing their containers to shreds, and at the farthest reaches of the scope's detail-capabilities, a sight so frightening that even the Darkhan couldn't help but grumble,'Rancors.', muttered under shaky breath as if the beasts were demons of unassailable extreme. Yet even the Arkanian himself would know that they might as well have been, as despite his fearful understanding of the Bloodhound's grand departure from the doctrines of yesteryear, even Rook could see the Rancors' had landed in dangerously-close proximity to GADF HQ, revealing the,"Unassailable", assumption would likely end up ringing closest to reality at the end of the day.

<"All Marauders, RANCORS IMPLEMENTED, I REPEAT - RANCORS IMPLEMENTED!!!!">

'HRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUURGH!!!!'

<"THE HOUR OF BLOODLUST IS UPON US, YOU MUST FIGHT YOUR WAY BACK TO THE SHIELD-DOME!!!!">

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo


Tags: Roman Vossari Thurion Heavenshield Casaana Caelan Valoren Azurine Varek @OPEN
Location: Bogan
Objective 3​

As Annie charged in right by Roman's side as the two split off in a standard flanking formation -- freshly united, the lethal lovers became likened to Crimson Crusaders in battle, led by the Lion King Thurion Heavenshield .

Only having one arm wasn't going to stop Anneliese as she moved with deadly precision, her yellow saber blurring in and out with deadly accuracy as each strike found its mark, Sith Spawn dropping left and right as her eye's frequently met with Roman. As far as dates went -- this had to be top of her list... locked in a life or death battle, with the sweet promise of tomorrow for both of them on the horizon.

As the cleaved and carved a path of carnage side by side with one another, a scream would escape her mouth as she shouted Roman's name -- the leviathan catching him unaware as he stumbled to the ground, now being locked into a battle with an acolyte warrior -- but in that split second of time, she sensed the danger near as she leaned back, a blade narrowly missing her as she watched it move over her head, another Acolyte charging at what he thought to be weakened prey.

He was wrong... she was a cornered animal, and she still had the best fight still left in her.

Lifting her slung left arm up and over her head, cursing in pain she gripped her fist as freed it from its confines. Blade's locking together she pushed back ferociously on the warrior causing him to stumble backwards and followed with a kick to the gut, forcing him to slump over -- Annie spinning beautiful as her blade in her right hand reversed grip and she plunged it into his chest, a gnarled lock of righteous fury written on her face... she had to help thin the area out... these enemies of the dark were relentless and sought at nothing but to quench and snuff out the light that they all were.

As Roman picked himself up and off the ground, the two came back to back, a smirk forming across her lips as Annie spoke aloud. " Roman -- I want you to throw me." A surprised look would come from his face -- but as she looked back once again, she would yell sternly. "Throw me!" Clipping her saber, she could feel Roman shift his weight, the force flowing through him, she backed up and took a running start towards him. Jumping up into his cupped hands, Roman launched her towards a small grouping of opponents as she flew across and directly into the middle of them, her left arm tucked tightly against her chest, her fist raised up and cocked back as she began to draw upon the force.

There was no time for pain, no time to mourn... the only thing she could focus on was the fight, was the force. She could do all things by the force and by the force she was all things.

As Annie landed into the fray, determination and fire alight and burning in her emerald eyes, landing right in the middle of them all, a scream of sheer excitement would burst from her lips "CHAAA!!!!" -- her fist hitting onto the ground, the area beneath her splintering as a Force Repulse would erupt, Annie being the epicenter of it, sending them all flying backwards and onto the ground. Lifting up, her hair flitting backwards, swiftly unclipping her saber, it would reignite as she began to cleave her way once again through the dazed enemies trying to make sense of what happened, the sounds of flesh being ripped through followed by their death screams... the darkness would receive no quarter, no mercy -- not today, not ever... they had to be pushed back and the light would prevail. Roman once again, bringing up the rear would meet with her again, a smirk plastered on both of their faces.

This, was fething awesome.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Iston Voronwe's Saber, Mother's Lightsaber Crystal Necklace
TAGS: Anneliese Kaohal | Roman Vossari | Casaana | Thurion Heavenshield | Connel Vanagor

It wasn't that he didn't value her attempt to heal him. He did. It just... he didn't feel like he deserved the effort from someone who could actually still fight. He was just a kid, a kid who'd seen some really bad things, who had no combat experience, and the worst injury he'd given someone was the time he'd accidentally kicked a ball, with Force enhancement, into his fathers groin. Even that he still felt bad about. He wanted her to focus on the fight, not on him.

As it were, even charging behind the others, he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing there. Enemies were all over the place, so were bodies. Fellow Jedi fought, soldiers fought, everyone fought. It was pure chaos, and he realized that was what war represented: chaos. This wasn't the solution he would have desired to resolve differences, but he thought most Jedi would feel that way about it. At least until he saw how it seemed to bring Annie joy to be in the heat of battle, cleaving through one enemy after another with the efficiency of a hot knife through butter.

He paused for a moment to watch her, not yet having faced anyone, and then watched Roman as he fought with abandon. Then there was Thurion himself, destroying the Imperials with such ease that he made it look as if he could do it with both hands tied behind his back. What was all of this? Why did they seem so okay with what they were doing?

He looked down at the saber in his hand. If it weren't something he needed to take back to Arhiaa, he thought he might have thrown it away and fled, sought refuge in a shuttle returning to the fleet. He wasn't ready for this. The idea of killing made his stomach churn. The idea that so many of his fellow Jedi seemed alright with doing it mercilessly didn't sit well with him. Why was he doing this? Why was he choosing to become a Jedi if it meant that he would become like them, cold to the nature of taking a life? Shouldn't that be a last resort? That's what Arhiaa believed, and he agreed with her on that.

Then he felt danger.

A blaster bolt deflected off the saber as he brought it up just in time. A stray, but still dangerously close, and he realized that he was not safe. Standing still would lead to his death. Running away painted him an easy target, someone they could shoot in the back, unable to defend himself. No, he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't die like that.

He ran forward, charged into the battle, trying to focus not on killing people, but on doing what he needed to survive and that was it. For his part, that meant avoiding the blaster bolts of enemy troopers, or directing them away, and staying far away from any of the sith spawn, though he didn't really have any qualms with killing them. They weren't, usually, sapient creatures, they were just modified beasts unleashed to cause as much death and destruction as they could. But, given he had only one arm to work with, it seemed prudent he leave that to someone like Thurion.

Someone tried to swing at him and Caelun reacted by swinging his yellow blade up and cut the mans arm off just below the shoulder. The Sith trooper screamed and he fell away from the man, horrified. That wasn't what he'd wanted. He didn't want to cut anyone apart! He thought maybe if he just knocked people around, deflected blaster bolts, kept attention he could at least buy some breathing room for the others, but not this!

He stepped backwards, his back striking someone, and when he spun to find another Sith trooper, ready to shoot him in the face, he plunged his saber forward, directly through the mans chest, coring a hole through his heart. The mans lifeless body fell downward, being cut by the blade as it went, blood spewing everywhere, including onto Caelan. He screamed, horrified at what he'd just done, horrified that he'd taken someone's life, but realizing he had to. And with tears streaming down his face, he turned away and went forward. This was war. Death was inevitable.

He just had to remember not to like it.

 

[Sid Berik]

THE ROOKIE

Roman Vossari l Casaana l Thomas Barran l Anneliese Kaohal l Thurion Heavenshield

The Dead Know No Peace Here

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.​

Sid slowly opened his eyes-

The stun shot, the one that hit him- the other few shots hitting Torvus' lifeless body. A final act of protection by his friend. Sid was covered in dirt, caked in debris. His helmet filter was broken, his helmet grazed from an Alliance blaster bolt. He grit his teeth, slowly moving off of Torvus' once prideful body, and slowly lowered his friend down to the ground, leaning him against the side of the machine gun pit they were in. He held his brother, letting out a few agonizing tears, crying out to the sky.

He died, because the Jedi wanted to reclaim a temple. He died because they were here.

Sid looked around, the battle still raging around him. Sid reached around, digging out the carbine, wiping the dirt from his eyes. He placed a hand on Torvus' shoulder, and waited.

He prayed, that Torvus was stunned.

That he would breathe again.

That he'd wake up, and they'd leave this place together. They'd fight together again. Sing together again. Go to the chow hall again. Laugh at each other again. Get haircuts together again.

But nothing would come of that.

Torvus was dead.

He wasn't coming back.

But Sid was still alive. Sid still had the capacity to fight back. To hold the line. His lip quivered, as he suppressed the tears for the time being. They'd collect his body later. He'd be the one to tell his children and wife that their father was killed in action. And in doing so, saved Sid. He checked the charge on the rifle, holding it low at his waist. He felt weak. He took a drink from his canteen, coughing, mud, carbon, dirt and blood being the first thing he tasted. He vomited, before taking another swig. He walked for a while, further up the entrenched positions. The battle had moved past him, and there was an eerie stillness as he marched over the dead, Alliance and Imperial alike. Overhead, streaks of light and the exchange of artillery fire created a symphony of light, the deadliest display of power.

He looked beyond- seeing the same Jedi, flanked by several others.

She was singing. Singing and dancing, cleaving his friends and comrades in half. Another man, dressed in ornate, immaculate, near-perfect armor, was also singing. Singing and killing. The Jedi- the ones he heard stories about, had turned into monsters. Murderous, rampaging monsters. He witnessed it first hand.

There was a man and a woman, and even somewhat far away as he was, he saw her. The flash of teeth.

A smile.

She was smiling.

She killed so many- so many lives snuffed out, brutally, quickly, incomprehensibly violent to Sid. He stood there, powerless, holding his carbine. He grit his teeth, and moved closer- trying to get a good position to get a good shot on one of the Jedi. But he had a better idea:

If he was going to die here, he'd do everything to make sure they would too.

They were probably going to butcher him, like they'd been butchering all the young men and women that were defending this position. He turned on his transponder, marking his coordinates. His unit was mostly wiped out. He tapped away on the device on his wrist, inputting a request for fire support. He shakily breathed-

He was calling artillery on himself- and marked the Jedi as well. But the transponder needed better coordinates and a clear line of sight, and more importantly, needed a battery to answer the call.

​

But he was already dead. These demigods were laughing as they killed hapless mortal men and women- for seemingly fun. Or at least, enjoyed it.

So he'd take them with him, or die trying.

For Torvus and all the rest that they gleefully slaughtered.

 

[Ryana mina]

Allies: Connel Vanagor Thurion Heavenshield Roman Vossari Casaana Anneliese Kaohal Caelan Valoren

Enemies: Detritus Ren
armor Lightsaber

Ryana ignited her purple lightsaber as troops and sithspawn came to greet them violently. "Sure you get all the fun" she said sarcasticly as she charged at the troopers deflecting blaster shots with her lightsaber as she began fighting through troopers activating the shield gauntlet in her armor she used that in combination with her lightsaber. To defend herself and deal with troopers she was still taking blaster shots but her armor was taking a lot of the damage as she fought her way through occasionally using the force to shoot flames.

The lethan twilek was rather coldly disposing if storm troopers as they fought most other jedi didn't want to kill or worried about it she was used to death and being a former slave to a hutt. She knew one of the better ways to deal with evil people and things was to kill them she was sure most jedi masters and knight's would scold her for it. As her lightsaber helped her find weak spots in the troopers armors to cut through easier until she saw connel get hit and drop and he doesn't get up right away. "Connel you better not be dead or I'm kicking your ghosts butt" she said as she knocked a few storm troopers out and ran to him and shook him until he got up.

She plugged connel in the arm "you die I'm kicking your force ghosts but back to life for buster" she said. Before he hugged her she wasn't used to being hugged besides by pip it was a new feeling for the former slave "nows not the time to be touchy feely we have a battle to win" she said. Still holding her lightsaber as she saw the other group walking up she waved as a dozen or so stormtroopers layed around the ground dead by lightsaber strikes.