Junction Battle For The Kathol Outback [Part I] | SO & ME Junction of Demonsgate & Ando

[Volo Dragr]

HEAD OF THE SNAKE
ALLIES : None.
HOSTILES : Darth Ophidia | Darth Malum of House Marr | Adeline Noctua | Trayze Tesar | SITH WARLORDS & ASSOSCIATED DIGNITARIES
ENGAGING : Everything that moves.
LOCATION : Kal'Shebbol, Diplomatic Chamber
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Time. The one thing he'd had an abundance of, and now found himself to be starved of.

He had no time to react. No time to think.

Just instinct.

It seemed like barely a second had passed, and he'd unleashed the horrors of Hell. Horrors that, while terrifying, might've unnerved any other, might've broken something fundamentally mortal in them... something that Volo, raised on Dathomir and baptised in the fires of the Netherworld, had lost long ago.

Clenching the hilt of his Orar'kad, the black blade igniting with a crackle of static, he was just as quickly releasing it, hurling it at the table the bat-thing had thrown at him. Reaching out with one hand, he stilled the flying chunk of metal as it hurled itself at him, blocking some of the rubble that the bat soon-after threw down at him. As his blade, guided by his hand, sliced the table clean down the middle, he called it back to his hand.

Of course, the Force was the last thing expected of a Mandalorian. It was profound. It was unnatural. It was dishonourable. It was cheating. But Volo Dragr, the Dragon, was removed from the notions of honour and dishonour held by his brothers and sisters.

His strength with the Force, however, was far from unsurpassed. Even now, he felt himself struggling against the weight and force of the rubble, against gravity itself. All he had to defend himself with were two pieces of tables. Sliding the hilt of his blade back into it's holster, he strained upwards with both hands, holding the rubble from crushing him.

All this in a brief few seconds, a brief few seconds that occupied him, ensnared him. In keeping himself from being buried alive, he had no time to defend himself from the Triumvir. All he could do was roll with the punches.

Gripped and slammed into the wall, he lost his grip on the rubble. As his back hit the wall, he had about half a second before the rubble pummeled him, half a second where instinct alone activated the Protector Code. a bubble of fierce, tempestuous Netherworld Energy formed around him, just as the full force of the rubble pelted him, breaking through the wall, using him as a battering ram.

Hurling through the air, any onlooker who saw the Mandalorian's body hit the dirt and roll would say, without a doubt, that he was dead. Any living being that went through that sort of abuse should be dead, if it knew what was good for it. Volo, however, was stubborn. Pulling himself to his feet as he coughed, he found himself ever the more thankful for investing in his crushgaunts.

Hand gripping the hilt of his blade again, he drew it and ignited the midnight blade. Just as he did, the swirling bubble of Netherworld energy shimmered out, his crushgaunts running out of charge. For a moment he just stood there, breathing slowly and steadily to regain his breath.

Assuming his assailants pursued him, he made sure to return the favour the bat-monster had done him. Aiming his right fist at it's centre mass, a set of three red dots, arranged in a triangle, appeared on it's chest. Circling for not two seconds, Volo smirked as his helmet beeped at him, getting a good target lock. Clenching his fist, a satisfying click came from his gauntlet as a wrist rocket launched itself from his vambrace, speeding towards the bat's chest.

All this done as he slowly side-stepped, circling the hole in the building that he'd come from. Lowering his arm, only to raise the other as he aimed his left vambrace at the Triumvir once more, a similar burst of plasma hurling towards her. This time, though, it was a distraction from the true threat- A swarm of whistling birds launched from the very same, following the plasma towards her.

Raising his blade again, he kept both within his sight- his open, unprepared stance seeming to dare them to close the gap.​

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[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

OBJECTIVE 1
BOARDING THE KAS LIBERATOR
OPPONENT Tae'l Vizsla
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Omon's BIO

His prey was finally caught.
Seeing 4 claws of the net closing around the Mandalorian made Omon finally relax for a moment. His body going from constant clinch, in to an almost weightless state. And in that moment, he could for the first time, feel the pain of his burns as an actual unpleasant pain. His little Dark Side fish, that was nibbling on his body, was gone.

"Aa-aa-ah.. this is far less fun type of painful then the one I was feeling before." he softly said to himself, while slowly walking toward the netted girl, who was jumping around like a fish outside of water.
Tossing his red saber from right in to the left hand, he pulled a usual small pack of Bacta Spray from his pouch. It was standard issue for every crew member of The Covetous. He sprayed it across his burned left forearm, and then the left thigh. Returning it back in the pouch, as well as the saber in to his healthy and dominant hand.

While the female Mando squirmed about, being electroshocked by the net, Omon established the comlink with his men..
"I got the Mandalorian, it seems she was the only one, otherwise they would attack in numbers. Team 1, leave the C3558's body in the shuttle, then run and converge with Team 2. Below you, will be the Captain of this wretched ship." he glanced to the right, as thou looking through the wall..

"They got numbers, but they are also completely struck with fear. I can sense it from here. Set your rifles to Stun, until they surrender, then blast few knees until they tell you which one is the captain. Extract him to the Shuttle 2. Over."

He noticed that the girl was pushing her way through the steel net, even while the current ran through her body.

Impressive.. getting closer to her, he could undoubtedly sense grief, mixed with complete peace and surrender.. toward death? She was Not afraid, in that moment, at all. It is of course quite possible she figured out he wants her alive.. but no, this was something different, this was something hers and hers alone.
Trooper's voice pulled him away from his thoughts..

"My Lord, regarding the crew of the The Liberator.. could this might be a good chance for the "Jaegessary" program?" on troopers words, Omon stopped for a second, as thou pulled back in to a wonderful memory he forgot. Slim smile appeared on his mask covered face.

"I love the initiative Marine! Pick 8 to 10 youngest and fittest looking personnel. Cuff them, and board them to Shuttle 2. You wont have room, so send 2 troopers to me, in shuttle 1. Over."

He was happy! This pet-project of his totally slipped his mind. But now he can finally start it, with fresh 8 or 10 first recruits. Wonderful!
It seemed though his enthusiasm was not shared by the young Mandalorian, for now her entire demeanor changed. That calmness and peace were gone, as her emotions frantically bounced inside her, so fast and changing, even hard for Omon to follow.
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"RRRAAAGH-!"

Sheeting his saber and placing in its holster, he was standing now right above her, and lazily start lowering his upper body with the hand extended in front, aiming to grab her by the back of the neck and pin down. But he got too careless, too confidant that his quarry is immobilized adequately.
Just a second before his fingers would coil around her neck, the Twi'lek rolled over to her back, her both hands partially free.
He knew it will happen moments before it did happen, but there was nothing he could do without killing her. Not at this distance. Her wrist-blade, in some genuine freak occurrence of luck, cut across his helmet exactly between a slim rib where the two parts of the armor are joined. Piercing through it, and slashing his upper cheek just below his eye, and as he instinctively moved backwards, blade open his Sith Pureblood bone sprout above his eye(human eyebrow).

Cursing and hissing he pushed the helmet over his head, as the blood flow down his cheek.. Omon yelled, then punch the wall to his left.

"By the fucking Bogan!! Am I fighting 10 people or 1!?" his unmasked eyes, burning with rage, now focused fully on the girl who was still covered in net across her legs.
His left arm straighten out in front of him, his hand open as though catching a ball "Enough of this!".
He'd use a strong Force Pull ability on her. Snatching her from the ground like a doll, lifting her straight, and making her travel in to his open hand with speed. All in a matter of second.

Just before she would be in his reach, and potentially used something from her endless weapon arsenal.. Omon pulled a Stun Gun from his right thigh pocket. Aiming, just in case, in to one of her joints where the armor did not protect her, and then firing from a point blank range.


Romul Saxon Tae'l Vizsla Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Dyyr T'Pada​

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Valery Noble Pyeth Raffinki Yuan Ji Thonn Rokkal Jos Krayt
Darth Empyrean Gerwald Lechner
DOLSTAN THEME
Pendant Quarterstaff Whiskey Dye Deathsticks Pamphlets

War. It had come to the Outer Rim in a way particularly brutal, but ultimately familiar. Sith driven by their greed for power and possessed of no rationale but their egos set to force the galaxy under their heel.

It tired him more than anything else. Endless, repetitive cycles of violence. And unlike the more radical Jedi who believed destroying the Sith would end the threat, Tiland knew better. Violence beget violence. Wipe out the living Sith and someday, somewhere, bitterness and the fallibilities of sentient would revive them. Only by defanging the Sith, thus erasing their view of their own power, could they perhaps in the end be ultimately stopped.

But that left a conundrum. Did the innocent suffer under the Sith while the Jedi sought to prevent the continuation? No, certainly not. Jedi were protectors. Defenders of peace and justice in a galaxy whose fundamental systems were unjust and violent. The irony did not elude him.

So, he was here on Dolstan at the behest of the Underground in the Kathol Sector. The movement had been in the region for decades and would not simply lie down and die, even as the collaborator government on Kal'shebbol tried to maintain its power. This would be a people's war, not a war of governments, in the end. As Veino had been doing on Dorin against the Empire, Tiland had come to Dolstan to do something far more difficult.

Teach a militia to fight the Sith. On the surface, it was absurd. But to those in the know? It was entirely possible and, perhaps, even likely. Sith had been learning to fight Jedi for centuries. Mandalorians had done much the same, as had Echani and countless other cultures. Indeed, there were methods and skills dedicated entirely to fighting Sith users.

Teras Kasi was only one such thing. But it was one that Tiland had spent centuries perfecting. So he had come prepared, with boxes of deathsticks and a few jars of Norris root dye and the League's training manual for resistance movements. Deathsticks, with ixetal cilona, could drastically weaken a Force users connectivity, especially if caught by surprise. The dye would protect against lightsabers. And teras kasi could help protect against both the speed of Force users and the mind-domineering abilities of the Force. And the Matukai had learned a few tricks that could help.

"Use the dye sparingly," Tiland explained, dipping the leather gauntlets into the small bowl. "Just the hands will do for now-"

His words cut off as he felt a disturbance in the Force and an image unfolded in his mind, one familiar to him from his time with the Tree-Dreamers.

"The time has come," Tiland said, standing stiffly and stretching his back. "Focus on the basics. Never fight fair and never stay in a fight longer than necessary. Courage means knowing and seizing the right course of action, not recklessness."

They had taught whey they could in the time allotted to them. They were not masters of teras kasi, but they could hold their own. Their weapons were inadequate, but their courage was there. The rest of the fight would be on them.

Tiland picked his way through the rocks, gazing up at the shapes as they hissed through the atmosphere, heading towards the towns scattered across the savannah and deserts.

But something was wrong. Tiland held himself still and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander across the world. There it was.

Sorcery, of a kind, both foul and ancient. He allowed himself a small smile. If they wished to save themselves the trouble of fighting the population, they would find themselves with a different challenge.

A contest of mind and will.

He knelt slowly atop a rock, feeling the sun's blistering heat as it hammered the rocky desert. Heat waves shimmered off the salt-lake. It felt good. It was warm, and comforting. And there were other Jedi on the world. One he knew from a meeting on Qi-Ko. master Valery Noble was a fine Jedi, if perhaps prone t attachments.

Tiland cast his senses out into the Force, spreading out his presence and focus, focusing on the conflicting wills he felt being forced against their volition. They were not many when it came to an entire planet, but they could cause problems. The dark tendrils could be traced back to one mind.

That was Tiland's foe then. He recalled his presence into himself and then projected outward, a beacon of resolute stillness, aiming to surround the mind of the sorcerer, cutting them off from their attack on the minds of the planet.

 

[Tae'l Vizsla]

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// TAYL VIZSLA // WARRIOR //
// LOCATION //: TIMBRA OTT ORBIT
// OBJECTIVE //: SURVIVE
// ALLIES | ENCLAVE //
// ENEMIES | SITH ORDER |
// ENGAGED: Omon Kaa / Darth Diem |

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EQUIPMENT: (In bio)​

Tayl had no time to take pleasure in the blood she had drawn, instead catching a breath in the mere seconds that her enemy stumbled backwards. She was quick to begin ripping the electrified cords from around her body until they were just loose enough to move her legs. They were kicking now, scooting the young but war-torn Twi'lek across the deck before she was suddenly immobilized by an invisible hand.

"By the fucking Bogan!! Am I fighting 10 people or 1!?"

"Enough of this!".

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she found herself dragged into the hands of the Sith. Her very throat, soft and veiled in little than a silken scarf, was now in the sorcerer's clutch.

His eyes, gold and unnatural, stared right into her visor with hatred, with rage.

Even without being unmasked herself, her own aura in the force stared right back at him. The same rage. The same seething hatred. Perhaps, in some small way, even worse. She didn't just want him dead. She wanted his kind dead. She wanted his world, wherever it was, to burn. She wanted everyone that taken that happy life from her to burn.

Even with the stun-gun which had severely weakened her, something in the little Twi'lek was still fighting. More gaps in her presence began working to keep her alive. Keep her in the fight. Her very flesh was a gap in the presence of life. Many of her nerves which the gun was trying to overload, were artificial constructs grafted to this ragged body of hers. Even parts within her very skull were still gaps in the living energies of the force. Ironic then, that the animalistic spirit of this young warrior- this Beast was being kept alive and prodded into action by a machine.

A machine that regulated the electrical currents in her body and mind, redirecting the flow as not to completely overpower the brain itself.

She struggled to stay awake, and yet she did.

Wordlessly, and still staring right back at the sorcerer, She would quickly thrust her wrist-blade at the man's chest. She lacked precision in her current state, hitting armor and nothing truly vital either. She had expended so much energy in that simple gesture, hissing a labored breath loudly enough to clue him in to her bestial state in that moment. But still she tried.

Hearing the armor ding against her makeshift claw, she was quick to swipe upward at the man's wrist next, trying to drag the damned thing across flesh or armor- whatever could be done to free herself.

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[Adeline Noctua]

Equipment | In Bio
Location | Kal'Shebbol, Objective three
Tag | Volo Dragr Alina Tremiru Darth Ophidia Trayze Tesar Darth Malum of House Marr Zlova Rue

A satisfied smirk formed across the bat's face, jagged and sharp teeth on full view as she watches the man get crushed... Then even thrown by Darth Ophidia. In truth, Adeline was surprised by the sheer force and power that Ophidia had, simply able to withstand flames and come back kicking harder.

Her crimson eyes gazed at the powerful woman, causing a deep yet hidden hunger within the Sangnir's gut... If she could just get a bite... No, today was not a day for daydreaming and dwelling on hunger. The rocket from the Mandalorian made sure of this as it flew at high speeds after the distracted bat, and by the time she noticed it was too late to stop it with the force.

Volo can see the explosion deep within the building, seconds later a loud thud is heard as the heavily armored body crashes onto the stone floor. Dust and smoke billow out from the hole in the wall for a time before an unholy beastly screaming is heard.

Within the now busted up building, Adeline is filled with a deep rage as she lifts herself.. Getting a good look at the dark blood that was leaking out from her torn up carapace, her regeneration already starting as the shrapnel was pushed out of the skin. While this would be helpful, her healing could not patch up all of the wound within the heat of combat.. Only enough to stop the bleeding for now.

Still filled with rage, Adeline climbs back up, this time climbing out from the hole she had made within the roof beforehand. Soon she takes to the sky, vanishing within the clouds above.

After some time had passed, the beast would try and swoop down and grab the man within its frontal claws. If successful she would then land roughly upon the ground, pressing her weight down onto him for just a moment... Blinded by anger she would toss him into her fanged maw, the bite force being five times stronger than a hydraulic press... Allowing the tough fangs to crunch right into his lower half, stuck within the maw... Mostly. Within the rage it would be easier to get attacks right on the face of his attacker.

"Gar tal bal runi cuyir Pal'vut!"

As she threatens the man in his own tongue, he could feel as she was adjusting her jaw, getting ready to move him to a better position in order to be devoured.

(OOC translation: "Your blood and soul are mine!)​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

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KATHOL OUTBACK | DOLSTAN​

Sith Order | Fleet Designation: Corypheus​

ALLIES: Gerwald Lechner | Sith Order​

ENEMIES: Mandalorians | Valery Noble | Jos Krayt | Tiland Kortun | Open​

ENGAGING: Open​

GEAR: In bio​

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Tiland would sense the expansion of the Sith Lord's domain, may even sense the depth to which it began dominating minds to act outside their control. It would not be hard to track the overbearing presence of death and predation that enveloped the planet - it was coalescing in the midst of a great storm in orbit. All of this would be simple to work through, but it was the moment that Tiland attempted to touch the mind of the Dark Lord he would witness no Jedi in the Galaxy had faced yet.​

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Unexplainable darkness - danger beyond mortal comprehension.​

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Where as the Jedi focused on the peace and the selfless identity it takes to borrow strength from the Force, the Sith ripped strength from the fundamental laws of the universe using their selfish and endless ego. Tiland would witness this first hand as the world of Empyrean's mind became clear - and the crimson miasma formed around him. It was a place that extended infinitely into the red fog of a soul corrupted.​

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As figures came into view, Tiland would see a soul unlike any that has ever existed - in Sith or otherwise. A thousand bodies lay piled together, while silhouettes circled them from the edges, just out of sight. Tiland could recognize a few of the bodies as famous Sith from history - but as soon as their faces would make sense, they would fall to ash and reform beyond the fog. At the center of all of this, was a naked Arkanian, who's scars slowly melded from the wounds he had taken.​

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He sat there, arm covering his eyes as he heaved and sucked in air as though he was drowning. Tiland's appearance had however forced the violence that was taking place to cease for the briefest moment - and it allowed the man to look up to him. What his gaze offered Tiland was pure and unadulterated hatred. So unfathomable were its depths, that the mere gaze of his red eyes shot fire in the veins and triggered primal fear.​

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Hatred beyond comprehension. Pain muddled with passion, fury, and intolerable desperation. The Arkanian offered Tiland nothing but his gaze and emotion for a moment, shaking the very realm they sat within. His will here was inexorable, untestable, and his words were that of God. Each word spoke of a darkness held back, like a dead man's switch made verbal;​

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"It is hubris to test a god. Return to your world and save your people, but if you test me again you will be consumed in my trial."​

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And then a snap like lightning, and Tiland would feel the sensation of being pushed away - perhaps his efforts had done something to break his control over some on the world, but it was hard to tell. His connection to the Force felt stunned, like he had been punched in the face by a heavyweight shock boxer - his knees weak and testing his strength to stand.​

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In the presence of Empyrean, even the Force seemed to quake.​

 

[Zlova Rue]

Objective III

Zlova's already raised hand that had lobbed lightning toward Alina Tremiru was thrust toward the side of the hallway outside the meeting room. With the dismissive gesture, the Force tore Trayze Tesar 's projectile(s) from their chosen path; rather than the soft comforts of the Lethan they sought, they found their resting place buried in the panels of a nearby wall.

The Twi'lek's brow rippled as a corner of her lips drew back for a split second.

Then a few hapless delegates seemed to be ushered from the room near the two that had willingly left the room. That was when the red woman flew down the hallway with unnatural speed and grace. Her left palm planted itself in the face of the fool furthest out of the room, and with the same flippant motion threw their head backward. Two opposing momentums of the upper and lower body had their feet swept out from under them with an ungracious fall to the floor at her feet. The rest should get the general idea not to run off without permission.

A golden eye peered through the door beyond Corbin Vasher to the architect of the day's carnival. "Ophidia," Zlova cried with a toothy grin, "who did you piss off to get this assignment?" ( Darth Ophidia ) They'd met before. Some time ago. Far different circumstances. Certainly meant this assignment hadn't been for any beskar-wearing warrior -- fortunately most of those brought along were handling whatever lower-tier security might have been elsewhere to protect this sham of a diplomatic exchange.

Beyond her Zlova was aware of Volo Dragr being back outside the facility and a were-bat thing ( Adeline Noctua ) looking a bit crispy and headed right for the man. To think someone else wanted to moonlight as a mystical marvel among Mandalorians.

Meanwhile, Darth Malum of House Marr didn't look terribly amused by the circumstances. Not any more than Alina and Trayze whose company Zlova now had in intimate proximity. They were probably preparing to try and kill her. Hopefully something extra juicy.

"You don't mind if I show your students a step or two, do you?" Zlova asked, not terribly interested in whether Ophidia agreed or not. Why wouldn't she though? Sith learned by doing -- or dying -- not being coddled. She'd even come bearing a handicap -- no sabers. They might get the wrong impression with that, though, so Zlova lightened up on the Force Concealment to let the Dark Side miasma bleed into the surrounding area. With a gleam in her eyes, the Sith Lord looked to see which of her 'students' would get their lesson first.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 3: Head of the Snake

Or... just rely on Alina to kick down the sealed doors, apparently. Why had not he considered that possibility? It was the one attribute that seemed consistent about the woman... well apart from her seemingly inevitable penchant to never follow what little decorum and formal etiquette were expected of them. It was either arrogance, apathy, or something else entirely, still, he could not quite complain at this moment, he turned his head, it seemed thankfully the defenders had taken his words to heart, moving forth to defend the perimeters from what attack would come, while others organised themselves to move into the negotiating room. There was still panic, it would be quite amazing for there not to be, but the wir of battle had taken hold, a time when boys became men, he had been long told. Moreover, he saw thankfully that Trayze had indeed escaped safely, and he was moving with some conviction towards some goal, he would trust that his cousin knew what he was doing. On other fronts, his breath seemed to be lost again, as the once petite platinum-haired beauty turned into a great monster, a cross between a drake and a bat, that left many a question, but at this moment, he could not answer, nor consider them.

A silent thank you, little more than a nod was given as he passed Alina, it seemed oddly enough her query to be in the same direction which Trayze abounded for, Malum wished him luck in that case.

Within the negotiating room, one would not be wrong to claim it had never been one. The main negotiating table had been overturned and then a portion of it smashed against the wall, while delegates clamped by the invisible hand of the Force were brought forth to his Mistresses' direction. All the while the one who had started this attack, escaping his imprisonment against the wall, and breaking the chains of rubble piled upon him, seemed far more content to challenge the draconic bat, than Darth Ophidia. Malum, could not exactly fault that reasoning, he knew firsthand the power hidden beneath the darkened cloak. Yet between the draconic bat and one of the Sith Triumvirate, they likely did not need his help.

He activated Consume Essence after having spoken to Trayze on the matter of his own ability, he had realised it was quite useful, yet without a lifetime of unconscious experience with it, it would take time dear to learn it as well as his cousin. Thus, he had experimented, attempted to hone what he was proficient as, to function in the same terms as Trayze. Consume Essence was a mockery of Psychometry but it served as it served, and it allowed him to eat his fill, as he felt the fear, the pride, and the anger that was torrential in the room, and indeed, it allowed him to see what was unseen. The delegates did not have the courage to have fled without aid, and why not flee with one that was invisible to most Force users? He saw Corbin Vasher , or more accurately, he did not see him, even those, not Force-sensitive, could be seen in the Force, if the man invisible lived through this, Malum would certainly be curious how he did so.

His feet moved, and as his lightsaber drew forth, his opponent found.

Or not, for suddenly a woman appeared by the doorway joining the invisible man, a red-coloured woman, a scantily clad Twi'Lek. Malum had the decency to blush, was this what constituted armour these days? She called out to his Mistress, and the blush disappeared as quickly as it had come. She knew Darth Ophidia, and now fought her as a foe, Malum wasn't sure there were many who could claim to say the same. As her eyes trailed to him, Malum drew forth his saber in a guard position, his grip tightening as another call to his Mistress was made.

"You don't mind if I show your students a step or two, do you?"

It seemed that his opponent had been chosen for him, bully for him, the invisible man had better survive, Malum still had those questions to ask. Thus, Malum stepped forth, to accept the challenge made to him.

"There is no need to ask for permission, I accept the challenge, but allow me a boon, might I have the name of such a beautiful woman, my lady?" Malum gave a short bow, but his eyes never left her, both out of a real sense of etiquette, and too, a ploy for time, he would not underestimate the woman, to call upon his Mistress in such a casual manner was beyond arrogance, it had to be backed by action, an action which she seemed fully ready to commit, "As for I, I am Malum of the House of Marr, a pleasure to come to your acquaintance." His blade was ready to deflect any attack, his other hand free to counter the use of the Force, he would not draw forth his second blade yet, let her prove that she was worthy of that.

Direct Opponent: Zlova Rue
Allies: Trayze Tesar Darth Ophidia Adeline Noctua Alina Tremiru
Other Opponents: Volo Dragr Corbin Vasher

 

[Corbin Vasher]

TAGS: Volo Dragr Darth Ophidia Adeline Noctua Darth Malum of House Marr Trayze Tesar Alina Tremiru Zlova Rue​

Spoiler: Equipment

ARMOR: Cortosis-Armorweave Shadowsilk Clothes and Cloak with Utility Belt
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Gaan'sacitadr ​

As Corbin led the invisible delegates away, he felt some of them be ripped away from the group by the Force. "Oh, kref!" He didn't want to risk the lives of the other delegates to try to go back for them. Best to save the ones he could. "This is why you don't trust Sith," he told them. He cast a combination of Inspire and Valor on them, to ease their fear and help them keep up. "Follow me."
They hadn't gone very far when a red figure ( Zlova Rue ) hurled toward them and grabbed one of the delegates, halting everyone for a stunned moment. Thankfully the Valor still held just enough. Barely enough. Corbin wasn't sure what to do. Getting as many out alive was what mattered to him.
Suddenly, Corbin felt a surge of Netherworld energy that staggered him a bit. A familiar surge of Chaotic energy flooded into him. He grinned and started laughing, unconsciously dropping the Force Cloak he constantly used, laying his Force Aura bare for any Force-sensitive on the planet to feel, and how strange it felt.
Violet eyes glowing, he grabbed what delegates he could with the Force, surrounded them in a shield of deep violet fire, and flew through the nearest room and out a window. Glass shattered around him, but he just knocked it all away. The delegates' fear had finally overcome the Valor, and they were all screaming as they flew through the air.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the Netherworld energy vanished. Suddenly back in his regular mind, Corbin faltered, and everyone fell. He reacted quickly enough to catch the screaming delegates but hit the ground himself with full force. "Run, you fools!" He gasped, having had the wind knocked out of him. He once again increased their speed as they ran away from the building.
Corbin staggered shakily to his feet. That had been a trip, indeed! What a time to not have his armor or any bacta spray. He'd need a moment, then he'd have to go back in for the others.

 

[SF-3335]

Location: Approaching Village - Dolstan
Objective: Stay Behind - Destroy Grain Silos
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Imperial Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Unit Support: FAE/V-01 “Emeici” Shock Attack Speeder Bike (3) - Kainate Outriders
Enemies: Thonn Rokkal Valery Noble Tiland Kortun Jos Krayt
Neutral: Yuan Ji
Allies: Darth Empyrean Gerwald Lechner

Even the strongest resistance, backed by one of the most capable warrior cultures in the galaxy, could not survive without food.

Dolstan was a dry, yet fertile world, a breadbasket of the Kathol Outback. Accordingly, capturing its food supplies and great, fertile fields would be a great boon to the Kainate and a deprivation to their enemies. Failing that however, the fields could always be salted, the grain silos burned, and the waters corrupted to ensure that no great harvest could be yielded from the world without significant environmental cleanup. Outnumbered by the legions of fresh, battle-hardened Eternalist troops making landfall, the latter had become the new objective of the Kainate forces deployed on Dolstan. Now, they would “aid” the Eternalists in their efforts to defeat the local resistance by razing resistance-held food supplies and salting the earth.

<<Watch those hills, 2107.>> SF-3335 said to her wingmate as she pushed the Crimson Velocity across the rolling savanna, knowing that anyone one of the nearby hills could hide a squad of soldiers capable of shooting down their speeder bikes. Having landed 12 kilometers away from their objective in order to evade the local air defenses, the Delta Lance was quickly closing in on the village. Already, the Morellian Outrider could see missile and laser discharges flashing across the sky as Eternalist transports braved the air defenses to land and disgorge their payloads of troops.

<<Copy that. Sensors are clear.>> Her wingmate reported back.

<<When we reach the village, we’ll split up and sweep around the outskirts. 3335 you have the west, 2107 you have the east, and 2579 you have the south. If it’s clear, we’ll converge and run for the silos.>> Lieutenant FX-0012, the lance’s commanding officer, spoke up. <<Like it or not, the Eternalists will cover our attack.>> She added, her voice carrying an undertone of barely-restrained contempt as the words left her lips.

Before long, SF-3335 reached the western outskirts of the village, having separated from her squadron as they moved to sweep their sectors. Unknowingly, she was more than a few hundred meters away from the lone Mandalorian heavy gunner ( Thonn Rokkal ) who was inside of one of the nearby buildings. While the Morellian was wary of the open area and the structures overlooking it, she couldn’t afford to take the long way around. The raid was meant to be quick and decisive, too long and they might be pressing their luck.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Crimson Velocity
  
  • Primary Gun Hardpoint (4)
    
    • FAE/SW-08 Hybrid Beam Cannon - Light
    • FAE/SW-08 Hybrid Beam Cannon - Light
    • FAE/SW-08 Hybrid Beam Cannon - Light
    • FAE/SW-08 Hybrid Beam Cannon - Light
  • Universal Chemical Projectile Launcher (2)
    
    • Pink Vapor
    • Nagnol Gas
  • Cargo
    
    • SV-5 “Phanes” Survival Kit
• FAE/A-03 Repulsor Craft Riding Suit
  
  • Utility
    
    • Neahtid Earpiece
• X8 “Gambit” Elite Disruptor Pistol

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"Betrayal in a time of crisis is the go to for Sith. Sneaking around, striking. Very Tsis'kar of y- Oh?"

Alina had turned. Raised a hand. Dismissed the sphere of lightning as if turning off a light. Against a normal Mandalorian, she'd be at quite the disadvantage. Against someone using the Force?

No better prey.

"You're not Iasha. Huh." The realization was quick. As was her disinterest. An obsession with Ophidia and hers, then? Her gaze shifted to Malum and Trayze. Gave them both a simple nod as she walked past and away.

"She's yours then. Do try to not get caught up in the flirting." She cracked a grin towards Malum before she slipped out of sight. Then finally ran. Actually ran. A blur of movement, too fast to be human, round the corner. Towards those fleeing, and the unusual scent that had flooded the area. Her blade snapped to life, and with it, ended the life of the cowards running.

Her cold eyes stared down at the first, split in half from her strike. The Force swelled, crying out as her unnatural connection pulled it to her whim. Around the throats of the others. Lifting them from the ground as her focus turned to Corbin Vasher .

"Leaving so soon, are you?"

 

[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

OBJECTIVE 1
BOARDING THE KAS LIBERATOR
OPPONENT Tae'l Vizsla
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Omon's BIO


He watched in amazement as the Twi'lek still moved around after the stun gun hit. It had to be some kind of cybernetic protection, but still, he was amazed. He could sense her fear mixed with hatred, he knew that drive quite well.
The thick dark red blood was pouring through the cut above his eye, creating a straight line identical to a tear down his cheek. He stood still as the blade went for his chest, observing the girl. The expected sound of armor being hit echoed, and her blade changed course in to another swing. Omon's head tilted to the side just a bit, before letting the force pull fade out and pulling his arm backwards.

Mandalorian started to fall down those few centimeters, and the blade that would cut deep through his wrist, because of that fall now just stabbed his open palm. The tip of the wrist blade went in, and Omon groaned very quietly.
Using his right leg to spin kick in to her right knee, making her lose the balance on that leg, then pressing his stabbed hand down, making the entire blade go through his palm. Clinching his fingers around her fist, and turning her wrist to her right side. Shear force alone would made her drop on her knees or have her elbow snap, and the brain always follows on the instinct. Even more so once in weak state.

You earned it soldier.. "Have I not told you, the fear can be quite rewarding." alluding to her abilities to withstand so much.
"But so can pain.. and I'm in it" he made a genuine non-hateful smile, to her, for just a briefest of moments.

The stun gun in his right hand fired again, maybe doesn't work, but it did have some effect, that much he knew. Then the pistol rotated, so the handle was being pointed instead of a barrel. With an uppercut move of his arm, he caught her helm with the pistol frame and lift-tossed it off her head, then returned the arm down and hit her crown(top of the head) with it. The second her head went down, he used the stabbed fist that was holding her hand to move from the wrist-lock he had her in, and punch her with it straight in to the right temple. Cutting her left eyebrow with her own wrist blade, just as his was cut.
The punch would toss her body toward her back, and Omon allowed it to travel freely, opening his hand and letting the blade to slip out. He got his left hand damaged so much today, what was another stab. Pushing himself with his legs forward, and hitting the Mandalorian with his knee in to her chest plate. Realizing it probably hurt him more then her.. but landing on her as she fell down, holding her pinned with his full weight.

The crimson blade lit up, circling around the Twi'lek's right side, cutting the blade from her wrist, then making a half circle between their bodies, and stopping an inch from her neck.

If she moves, she dies.. He thought, being himself wounded and spent, and being almost completely sure that if she does stand up again, he wont have any restraint left not to kill her.


Romul Saxon Tae'l Vizsla Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Dyyr T'Pada ​

 

[Tae'l Vizsla]

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// TAYL VIZSLA // WARRIOR //
// LOCATION //: TIMBRA OTT ORBIT
// OBJECTIVE //: SURVIVE
// ALLIES | ENCLAVE //
// ENEMIES | SITH ORDER |
// ENGAGED: Omon Kaa / Darth Diem |

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EQUIPMENT: (In bio)​

It all happened so fast. He tried to let go of her in time but her blade become lodged into his hand between the bones- stuck. The little beskar plates over her knee did little dampen the sudden sharp pain, forcing her leg to give way. Surprisingly, she still had enough strength to fight the man's grip on her arm, even if just a little. Her strengthened bones, a result of genetic engineering, wouldn't break quite as easily.

Still, there wasn't much she could do with that strength now.

He fired again, and what little strength she had summoned seemed to be withering. Her vision was almost hazy for the moment, and her posture dipped. bent. head held low and even as she tried to look up- ✱clack!✱ she was pistol whipped on the chin. Her helmet sent flying and another sharp pain cascading through her nervous system as her own blade was used to cut her face.

Next thing she knew- He was on top of her, and she on her back. The hiss of a lightsaber tormented her ears- the sickly red glow reflecting back at him within her eyes. The wrist-blade that once been her only means of defense was cast aside- the alien liquid-Beskar partially returning to it's soft state as chrome fluid leaked out it's severed end.

The blade was saber was stopped close to her newly unarmored throat, and she was forced to remain as she was. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, sounding more like a dying creature on some backwater world than a humanoid.

Green eyes stared into his own, defiantly. they looked as if they would dare him to finish it. As if she knew that- in his shoes, she would have severed his head from body.

A maw of shark-like teeth glistened in the crimson light, clenched for now, but looking as if they would gnaw on flesh just to claim victory if only he would get closer! And blood. Red as any human's, leaking from behind those fangs and from the cut into her lavender face, beginning to cover the Anubian tattoo around her eye.


As if reinforcing that defiance, even now her fingers seemed to twitch. One of her shoulders seemed to move gently, but never enough to accomplish the task. She was finished... Trying with all her spirit to resist the inevitable. Searching for some glimmer- even the smallest chance of circumventing that fate. Not out of hope...

But shear spite.

Even so, her breaths were becoming slower. The twitching more erratic, but feint. This body, for all it's augments, was failing her. slowly. surely.

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[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

OBJECTIVE 1
BOARDING THE KAS LIBERATOR
OPPONENT: Tae'l Vizsla
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Omon's BIO

His blood started to drip on to her right eye, and in combination with her cut left eye, she was literally crying tears of blood from both eyes. They were different color and shade, but both trickled down her cheeks bones and on to the floor. Omon observed her eyes, not with intent, but with dept. Piercing in to her very core.
He thought for a second, that those tears are truly avatar of her inner feelings at this moment. For the warrior Twi'lek finally surrendered. He could see it, hiding, but still clearly visible.. that unmistakable sense of relief masked as an anger or a defiance.
Its a relief only soldiers know, relief where you are fully accepted the fact that you might die, any second or any minute. You don't wish to die, but you accepted it as an imminent possibility, and you are ok with it.

They both pant, their chest moving up and down in long breaths. He distributed some of his weight from his knee that was on her, and on to his other knee that was beside her. Looking her still in the eyes. Then for a second glancing upwards in to the hallway, and back at her..

"Do not blow my damn head off, please!" on his yell a trooper appeared from behind the corner, where the Mando was running too. Pointing his blaster rifle in to him, then right away in to the sealing.

"Master! Are you alright?!" he ran toward them, until Omon showed him to stop with his free hand. Keeping him on the safe distance he can control, if something happens.
"Am.. we, we got the enemies down. We caught 8 "wordy" prisoners, and the captain of the Liberator. 2 Troopers died. C557 and C5311, We already moving their bodies on the shuttle sir. They died warriors death." armored man said solemnly, lowering his head in grief, as much as to take a peek at the captured Mando.

Omon got hit hard with this news. And thou his face was emotionless rock, he did felt it. He never cared about soldiers dying in war, but he did care about His soldiers. Cared a lot. Up to a point where he considered is that good as far as his Sith path goes.
But now was no time for such thoughts.
"Take all 3 of them, put them in their ceremonial navy uniforms, and bring them to my command bridge. I will keep vigil over their bodies tonight. Toss me your energy cuffs and go.. Oh, and send 3 Troopers to my shuttle, so you have the room." the man toss him the cuffs and run toward Shuttle 1, relaying Omon's message to others.

With a hard click the Twi'lek's hands were bound. Standing up from her, he just in case pulled with Force a huge cable from the sealing of the ship, in the hole he got in through, and coiled it around her tightly. Making double knots around her elbows and cuffed wrists.
Once he saw she was finally secured fully.. he exhaled loudly, picking up his helmet and placing it on his belt, then placing palms on his knees.

"Rankor's balls.. my whole body is aching! Fuck.." he stretched his back, so they snap before returning to normal stance. Then pulling something again with the Force. That beaten up elevator door that he placed bombs on, flew in and landed beside the girl. Metal was all blackened and crooked, but still relatively of the straight form. "It was REALLY hard keeping you alive, you know? I truly hope I wont have to do that again. I'm almost fully spent. Little bit more and I'd have to charge myself with Force, through something we call Rage" he lifted her off the ground, and let her drop on the elevators door, then lift the whole thing up like a big bacta bath, and start rolling her forward.
"You do not wanna battle a Sith when he taps to Rage, memorize that. Oh, almost forgot.." he turned just a bit back, and put his right hand forward, and second later a Mandalorian helm sped in to his palm. He looked at her while continue transporting her forward.
"How your culture says.. To the victor goes the spoils? Strength above all? Heh, I will accept this modest gift of our battle today, Mandalorian" he placed her helm on to his belt as well.

When they arrived to the final floor, and the shuttle was just in front of them, he pulled out a Bacta Spray and apply it on to his face. Glanced at her bleeding wound, then did it same for her.
He rotated her in to the shuttle, jumped in, toss her on the seat and let the steel chunk falls down in to the ship. After securing her belts, he looked at the body of his dead marine, then gave the pilots a go-head to take off. Both shuttles moved as one, as the Alliance ship again started to twist and crush beneath the pressure of space.

"Banshee, Banshee, Lounging's 0 0 are in the air, fly the escort and securing of the path, over." on his troopers words, new fighters buzzed over them, taking the standard escorting formation.
Lounging 0 was getting back home. Back to the Covetous.


Romul Saxon Tae'l Vizsla Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Dyyr T'Pada
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[Jos Krayt]

KATHOL OUTBACK | DOLSTAN
THE ENCLAVE | TRAINING TEAM
ALLIES: ENCLAVE | Valery Noble | Thonn Rokkal | Yuan Ji
ENEMIES: SITH | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Empyrean
ENGAGING: Open
GEAR: In bio

THEME​

The sky was ablaze with anti-air defenses and transports descending. In other parts of the surrounding area, other teams of enemy troopers were swooping in to flank the area’s defenders. It didn’t take long before buildings crumbled and burned as fire flew back and forth between attackers and defenders.

In the midst of it all, Jos stuck with Valery as he unclipped his electrostaff and extended the weapon to its full length. As troopers descended from the ramps of their transports, Jos waved his hand and sent a powerful blast to scatter and break the enemy soldiers. ”Get the walkers moving!” He called out to a nearby commander. The man gave a nod and opened a channel to communicate with the mechanized force.

In the meantime, his electrostaff swirled and spun to mimic the effects of a lightsaber. Bolts smashed into the phrik weapon and harmlessly dissipated, protecting the soldiers behind him. Every now and then, however, the Shaman let loose with torrents of fire or chunks of debris to deny the enemy a foothold. Despite the efforts, they were still gaining ground.

Missiles flew overhead to hammer into the ground before the familiar howl of the Mandalorians’ iconic steeds echoed overhead. ”This is not going to be a quick victory if we can not stop those transports.” He commented as he batted away another bolt and swatted through the air, sending the shooter crashing into a wall.

Before he could make another move, something caught his eye in an adjacent street. Speeders carrying more troops. ”Flankers have broken through.” He reported as he shifted his attention to the new arrival of troops.

 

[Corbin Vasher]

TAGS: Volo Dragr Darth Ophidia Adeline Noctua Darth Malum of House Marr Trayze Tesar Alina Tremiru Zlova Rue​

Spoiler: Equipment

ARMOR: Cortosis-Armorweave Shadowsilk Clothes and Cloak with Utility Belt
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Gaan'sacitadr ​

"Leaving so soon, are you?"

Corbin chuckled. "Now, why would I do that? The party's only just begun." He dispelled the Illusion of the delegates the Vampiric Sith thought she was killing. Lessons with Jedi Master Tiland Kortun had allowed Corbin to nearly perfect Illusions. He could even give some substance to the Illusions, enough to trick someone for a moment at least. A moment was all he needed for a successful distraction. "Surprised? Well, you're too late; they're already gone. Except for the ones inside. So, if you'd be so kind as to step aside and let me pass." He definitely did not expect her to let him pass. If anything, she was probably furious. Hard to tell, considering she had already been radiating pure Rage. He had hoped to rely on his superior speed without armor or training weights, but he really wasn't in full form after that crash to the ground. He could ignore pain just fine, but he really wasn't the best healer. And Force Healing would take too much concentration, besides. He'd have to let his body heal itself and do the best he could with what he had. He reached down to his left holster and drew his pistol (Burbr'sacitayr), ready to let off shots if the Sith moved, and his right hand ready to pull his lightsaber (Ravenfire) if he needed.

 

[Volo Dragr]

HEAD OF THE SNAKE
ALLIES : Zlova Rue | Corbin Vasher | MANDALORIAN
HOSTILES : Darth Ophidia | Darth Malum of House Marr | Adeline Noctua | Trayze Tesar | SITH WARLORDS & ASSOSCIATED DIGNITARIES
ENGAGING : Adeline Noctua
LOCATION : Kal'Shebbol, Streets
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Volo Dragr did not scream.

It was one of the things you didn't do, growing up on Dathomir. One of the things you lost. That wasn't to say, though, that he was silent as the bat-monster swooped down at him, it's talons curling around him. No, he was not silent, but his mask could not quite process the pained growl that rumbled over his lips as the sheer force of the impact forced all the air from his lungs, as his felt the pain of it's talons crushing him.

It was these sort of hopeless, futile struggles against impossible odds that the Guildmaster preferred to avoid. Certainly, he made no hobby of hunting the infamous chirodactyls of his homeplanet, but when their paths inevitably crossed, he prided himself on his ability to keep his boots on the ground.

It took no genius to comprehend that being caught in the claws of such a lumbering, nightmarish beast was a death sentence, that anything short of freeing oneself would be no kinder than a death sentence.

Volo had seen that with his own eyes.

Even as the beast crashed back into the ground, cracking it under him, he felt the brief pulse of the Berserker Charm as it washed away the pain, flooding him with an overwhelming rage. As the thing pressed its weight down on him, it's maw opening to devour him, he raised his t-visor, glaring at the monster, defiantly.

"Careful not to choke on your ambition, Zveris." he spat out in response, mocking the Sith vermin in the native tongue of the Sith.

Even as his body was slowly crushed by the weight of the beast, Volo defied it. Raising his left vambrace and aiming right for the raw patch left by his rocket, he clenched his fist. This time, a grappling line shooting towards the weak point; it's sharp, beskar spear-tip would, unless blocked at the immensely close range, plunge into the bat's chest. If a hit, the Devaronian Blood Poison-bonded Equivox coating the blade would soon enter the beast's bloodstream, reacting with the use of the Dark Side to cause excruciating pain every second it was used.

Not one to place all his hopes in one attack, the Guildmaster audibly growled as he simultaneously gripped the beast's skin with his other hand. His cybernetic hand would try to dig it's fingers in, the Tönn Rándýrsin shards in his prosthetic fingers aiming to stab through it's leathery, scaley skin. If successful, the demon would find itself additionally infected with the venom of the Resnekar, slowly working to paralyze it.

In the case that the grappling line was grabbed or blocked, Volo would simply drop the line. The vibroknife in his knuckleplate sliding out as he moved to drive it into the same limb that was grabbing him. If successful, it would have the same poisoning effects as the grappling line.

If, despite his efforts, the beast was unrelenting in it's grip and failed to comprehend the mistake of making it a close-quarters fight, the Dragr warrior would call his saber to his hand. Pressing the cold hilt against the beast's skin, he'd ignite the blade to cut himself free.

All this, of course, if the beast simply failed to release him.​

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[Pyeth Raffinki]

Valery Noble | Tiland Kortun | Yuan Ji | Thonn Rokkal | Jos Krayt | Darth Empyrean | Gerwald Lechner

Mimicry wasn't a unique talent, all Rishii possessed it. It helped define their species amongst the countless other sentients in the Galaxy.

Very few people knew this, but the Doctor under which he once served was a Xenobiologist, accompanying the crew as a means to complete his work. After Xenologis, by Darius Hinks was published. Pyeth obtained a copy, from Quauhatli's private collection, curious to know what observations the man had made about his species.

Naturally, besides some minor errors in Rishii physiology he couldn't find much he agreed with. However, to his pleasant surprise the Doctor had noted their capacity to learn, and theorised that mimicry extended beyond simple sounds.

On that they agreed.

Pyeth spent their journey to Dolstan familiarising himself with teras kasi, he learned the basics simple enough, and after running through a few routines with his Master Tiland Kortun , he issued them to memory.

By the time they had landed, he could comfortably replicate the routines assisting Tiland in a few demonstrations, but he was under no illusion. Replication and application were two very different things, he was worried for the undergrounds safety and remained cautiously optimistic about their chances in a fight. At the very least, it would not be one sided.

"Excellent work everyone!" He chirped, glancing over his wing to Tiland. He had sensed this feeling once before, when they were responding to the Sith brutal attack on a medical facility.

"Good work everyone. Please take the time to practice amongst yourselves, and feel free to experiment a little with everything Master Tiland has taught you." Pyeth said bowing to the trainees.

He would then watch them for a moment longer, before flying up to bypassing the crags that offered them protection from the elements. He landed softly, as to not disturb his Master's meditation.

"I promise not to be a burden this time Master." Pyeth resolved, he had visited the Obsidian Star. Survived it's hellscape, and left with his mind intact. On Rishii he secured a future for his family, and learned he couldn't act alone. Their was a strength in numbers.

He took a seat and focused for a moment, isolating Tiland's tailwind. Recapturing his resolve, and channelling it to assist Tiland in his efforts whatever they maybe.

 

[Tae'l Vizsla]

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// TAYL VIZSLA //

//
// LOCATION //: TIMBRA OTT ORBIT
// OBJECTIVE //:

// ALLIES | ENCLAVE //
// ENEMIES | SITH ORDER |
// ENGAGED: Omon Kaa / Darth Diem |

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EQUIPMENT: (In bio)​

Tayl's lips curled at one corner, if only barely. Even as bloody tears slid down her artificial flesh, even as the Sith stood over her in costly but well earned victory, she still managed to take some joy in having scored a few kills. In both her gun and those of her allies having sent just a few Sith-Imperials to hell where they belonged...

"Rankor's balls.. my whole body is aching! Fuck.."

It was feint, like the echoes of a bad dream, but she could still hear him. that bastard. Ruining his day and killing is goons was really the only comfort she could take now. She had lost everything else. Before, now, it made no difference. It was bound to happen, one day. She'd killed nearly a hundred men in her short life, won every battle even if by the skin of her teeth.

Everyone's luck runs out some day.

She'd probably be tortured first, for days. weeks. months. maybe years, if luck really had abandoned her. Maybe she'd become a mindless thing like her mother nearly had. Maybe wake up with fewer limbs than the night before. Maybe she'd even be the experiment in some new revolutionary technology or weapon. Gotta look on the bright side, right?

"It was REALLY hard keeping you alive, you know? I truly hope I wont have to do that again. I'm almost fully spent. Little bit more and I'd have to charge myself with Force, through something we call Rage"

Her sight was failing. lost in a haze. It was getting harder to think too, nothing left in there but memories of things Apollyon The Betrayer had done to her clan during their captivity. Horrible things. Things some Sith would never do to another living thing. Some. Most if not all were monsters in their own right. Still, she doubted many could match the modern day Demagolka herself.

But she could still feel.

Feel the cold metal against her head as she was dropped onto the broken door now being used as a stretcher. Feel the torn wire and cables being used to bind her there.

"How your culture says.. To the victor goes the spoils? Strength above all? Heh, I will accept this modest gift of our battle today, Mandalorian"

Feel the shame and hatred still building with every word out of the sorcerer's mouth.


"You... know... Nn-othing"

She groaned through the dulling pain as all feeling continued to fade and her vision went black. She would never see the shuttle that took her away or the crumbling skeleton of the ship she fought to defend. She might never see the arrogant captain again or the crew she sacrificed herself to protect. She would never see the Enclave ships she had hoped would rescue them.

She may never see her mothers again or finally earn the respect- the time of day she hoped to be given, to finally earn.




She had never seen Mandalore. She never will.

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[Darth Ophidia]

Trayze Tesar Darth Malum of House Marr Adeline Noctua Alina Tremiru Volo Dragr Corbin Vasher​

«Anyone else would be dead» And most would assume death after putting their foe against such terrible violence. However, it would be a mistake. Like most vermin, Mandalorians were notoriously hard to kill. Then again, Darth Ophidia was no ordinary killer.

She turned her body sideways on as the rubble tumbled over her prey, and brushed the flames from her shoulder.

It was in this time that the voice of Zlova reached Ophidia’s ears. She scoffed in the rogue sith’s direction, and gave her apprentice a pointed look.

But Volo was not dead. The Mandalorian rose from the rubble and launched his whistling birds at the Sith Lord and rockets against the monstrous form of Adeline. The miniaturised warheads swarmed around the Triumvir, who stepped, weaved and shifted out of the way of the whistling birds. They crackled as they collided with each other in search for her, sending tiny flecks of shrapnel that scratched her skin, but failed to penetrate her defence.

With each weaving motion, she carried herself closer to Volo, seeking to close the distance and launch a counterassault. However, before she could close the distance, the massive, monstrous form of Adeline rushed Volo and cut the Triumvir off. The Sith Lord did not step inbetween, nor lend the sangnir aid.

Instead, she looked to other elements of the chaos

It would seem someone had severed her connection to a number of the delegates, but not all. That just meant she would have to focus all the more of her attention on those who remained. In a disconcerning harmony, they began screaming and clawing at their skin as the blood began to boil inside them and well out of their wounds like red mist.

The dark taint of Ophidia spread through their veins like venom.