Invasion Beasts of Babylon: BotM Invasion of SE held Felucia

[Firrerreo]

Objective: Halt the Maw advance
Engaging: Andromach Hemstagon

The figure stood still. Unnerved even as the many cannons pointed his way. There was only one he focused on. The commander. Mild amusement filled his gaze as she stepped before him, blade drawn. So she was going to take him on one on one? With all this firepower behind her to deal with the nuisance the young acolyte was sure he was, he figured she'd just fire and keep moving. He opened his mouth to speak, more than alright with continuing a dialog. It would buy time for what he was trying to set up.

Only, his voice was immediately drown out by the rapid fire of cannons and blasters alike. Burt fields turned to craters and smoke. Billowing amongst the fire behind. Slowly that blaze burned out as the cannons continued to echo their song, until only the smoke of the barrage was left to cover the view. It would fade with time, but stepping from it was the acolyte himself. His lips thinned in annoyance, and completely unharmed as he glared at the woman. Not that he had anything to say. Really, what he wanted was to delay.

And he had. A new sound filled the air as the ringing of the bombers stopped. The signature screech of a tie fighter, loud. Close. From the smoke a squadron of Valkyries burst through, dropping their torpedoes onto the enemy position. A quick bombing for sure, and one that certainly wouldn't take out the advancing Maw army. But to help delay, and perhaps scatter.

The illusion of the Firrerreo raised his hand. Another spark formed in his palm before he took up the flames of the explosions and forced them to burn even brighter. Spreading, consuming. The image faded shortly after as the real acolyte took a breath from where he was truly standing. Not far away, but far enough to just now be seen.

"Come, heretic."

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective II - Steal Nysillin, Burn Farms​

Location: Felucia, Jungle Hills
Allies: Andromach Hemstagon
Foes: Firrerreo

The raiding party had only made it a little ways into the jungle when Andromach Hemstagon 's transmission reached them. "Agreed," The Mongrel replied, scanning the treetops from the back of his Gore Wasp. "There is no glory in easy looting." But internally he found himself torn between worry and greed. The Brotherhood needed the resources of Felucia to regain its strength after the recent battles; if they overextended themselves and lost that opportunity, the consequences would be grave indeed. He had a responsibility to preserve as many of his raiders as he could, to fight again tomorrow.

As if in answer to his concerns, he heard a disturbance over the comlink: a roar of flame and a word drawled over it. Heretics. His blood froze. There was only one possible explanation: an agent of the Sith Eternal, likely one of their powerful warrior-mystics, had discovered the Athysian camp. The Raider-Princes might welcome the battle, but it put the weakened Maw at considerable risk. The only hope was to reach the scene of the conflict quickly and help to resolve it, hopefully before the Sith summoned the full might of their armies. If they did, he would have to ensure that their attention remained on the Athysians.

The plantation cargo wasn't ready yet.

"With me," he spat, turning his wasp. "The war camp is under attack!" His Rough Riders swiftly obeyed, wheeling their own mounts to head back in the direction of the disturbance. Engaging the graug and clearing a second plantation would have to wait, or perhaps be abandoned altogether. The Mongrel could only hope that the Athysian raiding party would agree to turn back; although the Raider-Princes were potent allies, they served themselves first and foremost, and did not always agree to be commanded by servants of the Maw. Even a threat to their own camp might go ignored in favor of plunder.

They were confident, and they were greedy.

Whether they followed or not, The Mongrel skimmed over the trees as his riders crashed through them, the Kagan-Jin well accustomed to staying in the saddle at a gallop no matter the terrain. They leapt over fallen trees and ducked creeping vines, the ordinary thunder of their mounts' hooves muffled by the cloths tied around them; it would not do to draw further attention when the situation was already so dangerous. Even from far away, The Mongrel began to smell the smoke, more than the Athysian warcamp could account for on its own. There was fire ahead, and that meant a fire-starter...

Gripping his dread blade, he prepared for battle.

 

[Andromach Hemstagon]

Location: Eastern Fields
Allies: The Mongrel
Enemies: Firrerreo

Theme

The Skies rain fire. Limbs fly over the Athysian troops, as the bodies lie dismembered, still burning by the sudden aerial attack. Andromach follows the busting sound of the Sith engines as they spray death over her warriors. Her lips vanish in a menacing expression, as her eyes spark, sharing the fire lit in her army. Blood rains over the Athysians, as the flying members finally find their way against the mud, fiery like a meteor swarm. The warlord's gaze slowly twists, towards the other side of the battlefield.

"Kill them... Kill them all!!!"
A dozen Painer Walkers rush like a metallic tide of spiders, as their mechalimbs carry them fast on the other side of the field, under the ceaseless bombardment of the Bonegrinders, who hold back.

The skies suddenly fill with anti-aircraft mid-air explosions, indistinguishable how many are intented and how many are from the Valkyries, bitten by the cold jaws of hellfire. The shadow of the twin Baron-Class Gunships slowly darkens the field, as they advance one next to the other, with their point-defense weaponry already heated by a barraging hammering on the Sith crafts. And so, the Sith Malice merges with the Athysian Wicketness, in a chorus of violence...

The ground terraforms, by the endless cannonfire, with the Athysian walkers climbing up and down the craters, as they are determined to allow no advance to the serpentile Dark Host...

Unlike the Witch-lords of the Umbrammors, or the princes of the Emragis, the Hemstagon Hegenima was renown for their violent, treacherous ways, holding no ethics or honor when battling enemy forces in their raids. Their polemarchs respected only the worthy, shown in battle deed and bloodspill. Their zealous nature always pushing them further against toughter foes, with plunder being valued only through the worthy battle fought over it. The Hemstagon wicked Raider Lords had always been wanting to battle the Sith, as they viewed them as those who could deliver them the war they knew. A worthy enemy who could grant them the deeds worthy for their Dark Athysian wargods to notice. And so, With the raid on Felucia, the Hemstagon Polemarch aimed to do just that. She craved to cross blades with a better. Carry the scars of battle proudly back to Athys, in a glorious feast of victory, as Kardir Hive-City State counts the spoils of her plunder through the weeks.

And yet... This cowrdice. This treacherous shock-tactics of the fire-bending Sith tore her mind. She hated them. Taunted the most, as she saw her very own warfare turning against her in a challenging scream, all the while deep in her head she knew, who she faced today would be one worthy of her blade. She swings her blade left and right in a warp-like slow, ethereal manner, as if she fought invisible warp-ghosts of the battle to come. A clear technique to tame her boiling blood rage, clearing her mind as she knew, the battle was soon to be joint.

Behind the Polemarch, several Edikar warriors, consisting her personal guard form a square formation, activating their energy-shields on their wrists, as they unsheathe their Athysian Hadzuz Blades, readying for the coming battle. The Polemarch walks ahead of a wedge-like wall of iron and durasteel and blasters and anger, as her advancing walkers ravage the field ahead, with the bombardment leveling any form of flora, or building left in the proximity. She wanted the field wide and clear, blackened from the fires of war. She wanted everyone able to see, as she crossed blades with the Sith Eternal. The first of the Hemstagons, ever to fight a battle against a Sith Host... The First... of the so many yet to come....

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Location: Hillside, northern of the Athysian Warcamp
Allies: Tegan Starfall
Enemies: -
Participants: Dis

"Do you hear this?" the crippling figure of the cloaked man said, as he points his trembling skeletal arm to the large Athysian Gunships who started moving eastwards, through the thick smoke of the burned land.

"War. They sail to battle the Sith... Those who rule this land. If they win, this world shall fall to the forces of the Athysian League and the Maw... IF not, these people you wish to save from the Brotherhood shall only live to serve the Sith Eternal overlords, as they did before... Blind... in a river of disbelief and abuse... Is this what you wish, Eyeless One? A life not worth living? Given by a choice never theirs to take? They are casted to the bottomless pits of the King of the Dead, since the day of their birth. There can be no peace. Prisoners, in a mortal shell, all they can do is suffer to the end of their days... We, however... Are here to change that..."
The crippling elder paces on his staff, stepping closer to the Shadowcat. By now clear as the stars of the nightsky, the physical body as but a mere marionette of he who spoke the words. Possessed, through the bonds of darkest spells casted upon the once mortal to serve the dark master. Each of the words spat with a disturbing feeling of miscreation following them. There was no mania of destruction. No menacing malice towards the cat. Alas, was it but the words of a usurper of minds, seeking to "enlighten" the ethereal entity to the most unnerving belief he followed, seemingly careless of the brutality of the bargain the witch of the Maw was attempting to pull. Unlike her, his words did not come as a siege of choice; a darkest pact with the unholy. But a ramming tower against the very gates of mind. To him, it seemed, the prize was not submission... But conversion.... To whatever twisted end, it was to anyone's guess...

"Violence is not the enemy, Eyeless One... See through the eyes of them. Mortals. Untouched by the grasp of the King. Unaware of the chains wrapped in their souls"

The figure walks further closer to the cat, as the fabric wrapped around the face seems turning bloody.

"Life, is the damnation. Fear is the guard. Pain, the key. Death, the answer. When one walks through the path, no chains can cast their frost upon the wrist. And you; Know; That to be true"

Each sentance, each word of the possessed spat with the boiling taint of the Dark Side rising, pumping the blood in the decayed veins even faster, as his body trembled, unable to contain such energy no longer...

 

[Firrerreo]

Objective: Halt the Maw advance
Engaging: Andromach Hemstagon | The Mongrel

Surprise had been on his side, but no longer. He stared up to watch ship after ship get shredded by the incoming fire. A shame, for the pilots and the engineers that made them. But the point was to delay for the main army to arrive. They did their job. They could die proud. The acolyte turned his gaze towards the approaching witch, offering the briefest of nervous smiles. Head on against a swordswoman there was little chance he would win. So he turned, and he ran.

Not far. Enough to lure her into a chase. To lure her and her own closer. The ground that had been scared by the earlier blaze, but it wasn't just for show or diversion. Runes hidden in the ashes ignited as the enemy got too close. Then erupted into a column of flame to consume those within it. The last of his tricks and preparation. The most he could hope was it would at least slim down on those charging towards him.

And maybe he'd get some kind of reinforcement.

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective II - Steal Nysillin, Burn Farms​

Location: Felucia, Jungle Hills
Allies: Andromach Hemstagon
Foes: Firrerreo

Faster and faster galloped the Rough Riders, knowing the urgency of their task; the entire fate of this raid might well rest on their shoulders. As they drew closer, the smell of charred flesh rose up to meet them, a charnel smell that unnerved even their war-trained mounts. The smoke they had seen began to make more sense; fire had been employed as a weapon here, rather than merely a byproduct of looting and pillaging. The densely-packed jungles began to feel like a deathtrap; an eruption of such terrible heat could easily turn all of this vegetation into an inescapable inferno, trapping them all in flaming death.

Above them, The Mongrel skimmed the treetops, scanning for some sign of whoever the Athysians had engaged. The main thing was to cut whoever it was off, and to jam any communications as soon as possible... if whoever it was relied on technological signals, that was. There was nothing that the marauder warleader could do about communication through the Force except kill the intruder quickly. As the raiders drew closer, he saw the flash of blaster cannons above the trees, then an explosion: some aircraft had just been blown apart. Clearly this was more than just a confrontation with a lone scout.

But then something far more worrying happened.

As the Rough Riders charged forward, seeking their foe, they burst from the edge of the jungle into a plain of ash and burned tree stumps... and triggered Sith runes hidden amid the devastation. The Mongrel, relatively high above, had some warning; he was able to haul on his Gore Wasp's reins, pulling it to the side just in time to avoid the huge column of flame that erupted from the earth. Most of the Rough Riders were not so lucky. They were consumed instantly by the tornado of fire, mount and rider alike incinerated so fast that only drifting ash remained. It slowly settled on the plain, more flakes on that black carpet.

The Mongrel snarled in rage at the loss; Kagan-Jin riders took significant time to train. These were casualties they could ill afford. As he banked to the side in his sharp turn, he caught sight of what he had to assume was a Sith scout, fleeing through the burned-out hulks of trees on foot. The marauder's eyes narrowed; this must be the man responsible. He had to be stopped before he could bring the full host of the Sith Eternal down on them, and after that little fire magic stunt, The Mongrel hungered for revenge. He urged his Gore Wasp to descend, streaking down toward Firrerreo .

The Athysians were right behind him, already hunting this intruder, but the Bloodsworn warleader aimed to have him first. With his dread blade in hand, he swooped toward his foe and struck out with a swipe meant to strike the man's head from his shoulders. He didn't wait to see the effects of the strike; the dread blade, with its lightsaber-like lightness and cutting power, made it difficult to tell whether he'd connected, and if he hadn't it would be a bad idea to stay too close to this Sith. So he pulled out of the dive, ascending again, preparing to circle and see what damage - if any - he had wrought.

"I will take your head," he muttered.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Rancor Graveyard
Allies: Tu'teggacha Khaostra Devoid
Enemies: Taeli Raaf Ana Malixar
Unknown: Eldervine

With the aid of more Maw help, the great Rancor. With the beast gone Kyrel was greeted by the faces of the taskmaster. The mysterious squid like figure that often stood next to Solipsis, and from what he saw. A red headed young woman teeming with darkness. He was about ready to speak. His eyes and steps slowly focused on her. As if he seemed compelled to strike her down, for today was his true purpose. He was made to destroy Sith, and he didn’t care who it was, if it wasn’t Maw related, all must die.

Before anything could happen, he stopped the advance immediately, a most appearing and before his eyes was a face he recognized, or what he could say was the presence he had felt before. The one who undid all the conquest of the First Order, the one who her schemes would make it seem like she was a student of Sidious. Darth Arcanix. He reacted immediately by pointing his blade to her, as her form fully appeared before the group.

Even she knew of the dead Ren, but to him it seemed she only spoke in mockery than flattery. His anger boiling. He spoke the venom evident in his tone. “Arcanix... you should be honored, consider yourself the very first of my victims!” He said his hands raised his saber, just as he noticed her hand on her own own. However, before he could begin his opening strike towards her, something far darker had appeared. Something that made the small army of beasts under his command to flee in terror.

What appeared before them all, was a monster. The Maw adopted many of the practices, customs, and traditions of the Nihil, but one relic of the High Republic they uncovered the most were the Drengir. Of course Kyrel only heard stories, and even he took a step back, his blade facing Arcanix. Laughter befitting of a madman came forth. “Hahahahahaha, what fun this is. Looks like we will all die here, ohow ironic. Perhaps the Drengir will kill you regardless if I do not.”

He said as if the events brought on from this was something of a joke. He stood only feet away, ready to strike before the ground shook and burst with the Drengir slowly surrounding them. The dark siders raising his blade ready to strike.

 

[Andromach Hemstagon]

Location: Eastern Fields
Allies: The Mongrel
Enemies: Firrerreo

"Coward"

Andromach halted her pacing, seeing the fleeing Acolyte. As soon as The Mongrel 's Gore Wasp would be in sight, she would lift her arm, halting her host behind her. The bombardment would stop, as her Painer walkers rush ahead, outrunned by the Gore Wasp. Their speeding, mechalimbs rush towards the fleeing Firrerreo , barraging the ground around him with cannonfire to force an end to his running. Three of the walkers would move further, to surround the figure. Although eager to draw first blood on the Sith Eternal, Andromach halted her troops, clearly awaiting for her gunships to shadow the field, allowing aerial cover in the case of a larger strike from above. Beyond that, the gunships provided a clear unfair advantage, as they carried heavy batteries, able to shell the battlefield, should the Sith Eternal attempted to overwhelm the Polemarch.

Confident, of the Brotherhood's reinforcements arriving, she could do little to hide her irritation of The Mongrel going as far as depriving her of the kill. Alas. She was more than convinced such an act wasn't a mere fool's attempt to harrass her raider army, but the omen of a larger host, skirmishing before the final strike. A part of her enjoyed this thought, as she could at long last test the reputation of these so called Sith.

And so, she waited. Her eager troops readying, with the heavy Bonegrinder Walkers at the flanks and rear, ready to spit beaming death to whoever emerged from the East, while her Painers' fast-moving walkers went forth to capture the only, for now, visible foe.

A significant number of her Black Valkyrie cavalry was lost in the main firestorm. This had effectivelly blinded her eyes, as they were her best scouts and skirmish troops. Now, she had to rely on the scans and vision of the gunships from above. Mere corsairs; common blood sailing the rusty hulls of the Hemstagon ships. The only noteworthy individual onboard were the Witch-Captains; Although, they were far too corrupt in their ways to be considered much of an asset. Or so did Andromach think...

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 4
Objective: The Mayhem Gods
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove (Stored in her coat pocket)
Allies: Tu'teggacha | Kyrel Ren
Enemies: Taeli Raaf | Ana Malixar
Special Tags: Eldervine

---

Khaos stared at the Plant creature looming above her, her orange eyes burning with fury while she looked at it. She did not appreciate the fact it had consumed the Rancor the mighty beast she intended with all her heart to let free when this day had ended. Yet as she stared at the beast she didn’t have fear of it because it made one major mistake. It had piggy backed and possessed the sessile plant, a plant she had conjured from the spirit realm. A plant that she fully controlled that she could shape bend to her will and even send back to the spirit realm if she so wished.


As the Eldervine conjured more of its kind forth Khaos could feel and hear it’s hive mind like she was apart of it. Even though her heart was broken over the now dead rancor a smirk did begin to grow on the witch of Mayhems face. “You are free to feed on all the sith here.” She said as she turned her back to the creature and pointed in the direction of Ana. There was another Sith around to that Khaos could sense but she was not sure where they were at. Also, there may have been a few sith in the Maw ranks as well but Khaos hardly cared if they to got consumed by the man-eating plant.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective III: Seek Artifact, Tame Beasts​

Location: Felucia, Rancor Graveyard
Allies: Kyrel Ren , Khaostra Devoid , Tarok Vassket , Ana Malixar (?)
Foes: Taeli Raaf
RUN FOR YOUR LIVES: Eldervine

What had begun simply - a search for beasts, and an artifact of the Dark Side - had become complicated, and then practically byzantine. Tu'teggacha had to admit that he'd enjoyed the little game he and Ana had played, jockeying for advantage as they cooperated for survival, each of them vulnerable in their own way. He did not know what would have happened if they'd reached the Mad Shaman and his item of power, though he suspected it would have shredded their tense, fragile alliance. But he could not possibly have predicted what would happen instead, this sudden confrontation among so many of them.

Ana shot back at him, words dripping with Sith passion... but she did not attack. Even now, with the situation escalating, she was unwilling to be the one to break their truce. It was oddly honorable. Tu'teggacha was about to reply, though even he did not know quite what he would have said, when Darth Arcanix appeared as if from thin air. The Taskmaster inclined his head at her praise. She had figured out his game. "It is as you say," he replied. "She has potential. I have seen it." In a way he had been treating Ana like another Felucian beast specimen, working out her strengths and limitations to see how he could exploit them.

Of course, all his efforts to keep her from contacting the Sith were now moot.

There was a pause in which no one yet struck, and for a moment Tu'teggacha considered the possibility that they might still be able to resolve this without coming to blows, unlikely though it might be. He was no warrior, and had no desire to face someone as powerful as Arcanix, even with powerful allies on his side; he much preferred to view and influence such battles from afar, in safety. But most servants of the Maw were not so restrained (some might say cowardly), and instead hungered for battle. Kyrel Ren could not be held back, already dreaming of taking Sith heads, and Khaostra clearly wanted to release the Rancor on their foes.

But yet again, he could not possibly have predicted what came next.

Even as he looked for an exit, the Taskmaster bore witness to the return of the Drengir. After all the struggle of subduing the mighty bull rancor, scarred and ancient, it was terrifying to see it so quickly and easily consumed. As a copy of its hulking form, wrought in leaves and bark, rose from where the creature's flesh had once been, Tu'teggacha decided it was well past time to go. He quickly signaled his remaining marauders and beastmasters to retreat, though their path would be hard; more and more Drengir were arising from the valley floor, growing from the ancient carrion. Anyone who stayed here too long was surely doomed.

The surviving Maw warriors, trying to dash past the Drengir were possible and fight past them where not, gradually began to make their way back up the valley, soon reaching the spot where Tarok Vassket struggled with another rancor. "Flee!" one of them shouted at the hulking alien, terror in his eyes despite his battle-hardened demeanor. "The jungle is eating us alive!" For those who had never seen the Drengir before, it was the best explanation they could come up with. Tu'teggacha could only hope that at least some of his valuable beastmasters would manage to escape the carnage. Perhaps Tarok could help.

Meanwhile, Tu'teggacha pulled at his Gore Wasp's reins, Kyrel's mad laughter echoing in his ears as the Master of Ren prepared to meet Sith and Drengir alike in battle. The Taskmaster would not be staying to watch; he needed to flee before the plant creatures consumed him, for he doubted his skills would be of much use against them. Yet as he turned to go, his gaze fell on Ana Malixar once more, and he pondered the possibilities. Perhaps the two of them had forged something of a bond over the last hour, despite everything. Even if not, perhaps it would benefit him to have a Sith who owed him a favor.

He had time to try, at least, so he might as well.

"If you did not betray me," Tu'teggacha called out to her, even as the earth all around him erupted with rising Drengir, "I will not betray you. Come, Ana." He used her first name this time, a recognition that something had changed. "There is room on my Gore Wasp for two. I can bring you out of this place. Decide quickly, before we are both consumed." And though it terrified him, for he was never meant to be in the middle of a clash like this, he did wait, knobby hand outstretched, ready to haul her into the saddle behind him if she so chose. Escape with an enemy or stay and fight to the last beside Arcanix... what would she do?

 

[Maestus]

She studied the three titans of the Sith for some time. Her takeaway was that she needed to increase her power. Not just in combat arts, but every facet that can be increased. More knowledge, she needed more knowledge. As she studied the 3 of Darth Solipsis , Other Space Kaiden , and Darth Empyrean she took in their forms moreso than their actions. Actions were only the final step. It was the way they moved, how they moved, that intrigued her. Learning how they set up their next move, be it a brutal attack, or simply a subtle shift in their foot placement. All were telling.

Soon though, she turned away. Her eyes scanned the area around them. Deciding there was no further reason to remain, she trekked away. She spied a hill not far off. A strategic spot, the Maw would need it to continue their advance. She knew that some detachment of Maw marauders would be at the bottom, planning their advance. Idly, a stray thought occurred to her. She hoped they left some of The Sith Empire alive. They would make excellent slaves. Their minds would be ripe for plundering and then reprogramming.

First, they needed to take that hill. Then procure slaves.

She made her way to the bottom the hill, and spied the forces marshaled there. Black eyes searched for the war leader in charge of this band. Her eyes lighted on Alars Keto . A wicked smirk curled on her lips. Her body, augmented with superhuman strength and speed, twitched in anticipation. She took advantage of such augmentation, and became a blur of black. She rushed towards Alars Keto , and was soon standing right in front of him.

She stared him down, as her anger began to surge. As a result, the red around her black eyes began to dance. She lifted a hand slowly, fingers curled into an open fist, threatening to close at any moment.

What is your plan....Defector?

​

​

 

[Dis]

Dis the Shadow(cat)
Shadowcat, explorer and wanderer; Owner of the Cat’s Paw; Member of the Greystone Mercantile​

Objective II.: Make friends | Barn Razing
Location: Plantation Outskirts, Felucia
Equipment: N/A
Writing with: Desmundor Alcademon | Tegan Starfall

[ Theme ] ​

~ There are no gods, you can believe I have been living there for quite some time. ~

They may not have been very old in Realspace, but time passes differently in Netherworld, and Dis has already spent a lot of time there. And it wasn’t that hard to get back to life. Unless their souls shatter, as happened with the Creator. Dis didn't even consider @Darth Voractius as a god. They looked curiously at the woman and the man. The strange third had already left, he didn't seem to care about these things.

The Shadowcat wasn't afraid; they tilted their head from side to side, depending on who was talking to them. Reacted to the crazy man first, didn’t understand if they were so bothered by life, then why they didn’t kill themselves. Their own life full of suffering would be solved.

~ Just because you think that life is suffering does not mean that others think so. You are just forcing your will on others. The violence… Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent. Nothing more. Because they are incapable of creating, so you would rather think that nothing is left. You just want to project your own suffering and incompetence onto something else. This is not a strength, only a weakness. If you were strong you would challenge the Worm Emperor as your opponent or the Sith Lords. And what are you doing instead? I kill unarmed people who can't fight. This is humiliating even among most demons and a sign of weakness in the Netherworld. ~ they said in a completely neutral voice.

It didn't evoke any emotion in them, they weren't scared, they just said their opinion. The strength of the Dark side didn't bother the Shadowcat, only saw the man's aura glow even darker. After that they turned back to the woman.

~ It’s easy to leave the Netherworld, you just have to find one of the rifts, anyone can do it. We Shadows also travel easily between the two worlds whenever we want. You want everything? Are you weak after all? Only those who are afraid want power. What are you so afraid of? ~ they asked curiously.

They thought about the offer they had received. Not too much and answered soon.

~ I help as a friend whenever you or the Maw want, but no one will own me. I serve only the Shadows and the Greystone. But I help everyone else if they ask. ~ they offered.

 

[Oran Shule]

Allies: Maestus | Alars Keto | Darth Solipsis
Enemies: Other Space Kaiden | Darth Empyrean
Objective: help out

One of the first lessons for survival Oran had learned was the following:

Stay in the background.

If people did not know you existed, they wouldn't do their damndest to erase you from existence. This went twice for Sith. It was for that reason that Oran had stayed quiet throughout that little journey which found Maestus confronting Kryll. The clash of unstable personalities was always a dangerous place to be, especially when you were drawn to the middle of it.

"I believe, mistress, we should be taking control of the hillside." Oran murmured softly while licking his suddenly-dry lips. "Perhaps it is better to leave any conflict for another day?"

He tried a weak smile as he pulled a knife out of his sheath.

"I can help us get there quietly."

His movements were slow - to make sure that they wouldn't perceive it as a threat towards them - as he sliced a small gap in the palm of his head. The crimson smear welled up almost immediately. "An incantation... that summons the creeping dark and will obfuscate our movements." The weak smile turning slightly manic and far more genuine there.

"That is good, yes? Helpful, mhm, that's all I want to be."

The dull monotone mumble of the incantation was already leaving his lips. In response shivering shadows crawled up from the dirt. As if they were encouraged or lured in by the words.

Creeping up his legs... and slowly making him fade into the background.

"Now the both of you, yes?" The flicker of white teeth (the hint of a grin) that immediately faded by greasy ink shadows hiding his face.

 

[Firrerreo]

Objective: Halt the Maw advance
Engaging: Andromach Hemstagon | The Mongrel
​

Oh there was no doubt the young Acolyte was a coward. A new group approached, making his pale features that much paler as he again turned to run. This was a bad idea. He needed more preparation if he was going to do something like this. The book in his hand started rapidly fluttering through it's pages as he went into a full on sprint. To his credit, he was much faster than his appearance suggested. The strength of his Firrerreo blood, truly. Worse, the cannons.

By the Force those were loud. Through the Force alone he was able to dodge from some of the blasts and escape mostly unharmed, but it was one shell that slammed just beside him that sent him flying. Had it not been for his hardy nature, he likely would of died then and there. Not that he was anywhere close to clear. The bombing stopped.

Only because the flying waspmen had reached him. The pages of his book fluttered far more desperately as the blade reached him. Then, it was over. His eyes stared blankly as his head flew from his shoulders, rolling into the ruined ground beside his body as it collapsed.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Wage War
Weapons: Sword | Axe
Tags: Alars Keto
​

They took to his plan with gusto, Kryll in particular even saw the merits to it. A good thing for a leader, it only remained to be seen if the man and his marauders could pull it off as well. Once they were in position, it was time to see if they could. Merely nodding in return to what Kryll said, Zachariel prepared himself. His blades were ready and his will unbreakable, and their enemy unprepared. Even now the fools fought, not knowing of the greater threat that laid in wait.

Then they were in position and Zachariel stood, striding forth towards battle with the calm leisure of a warlord. Even now, his followers moved to flank, even as their targets continued to battle. It was pitiful to behold, and Zachariel was glad for the distraction when one of them finally noticed him. Said Graug called out to its fellows, bellowing out that there was someone behind them. Promptly a handful turned towards him, even as fire began to ring out in greater number. The Sith Eternals took notice of his approach as well and renewed their approach. They didn't know who he was, just that his presence sang in the Dark Side of the Force, so they assumed he was an ally, or at least a neutral party. Of course they were wrong on both counts, but they wouldn't know that until his blades were stuck in their faces.

But Zachariel wasn't focused on them, he was focused on the incoming fire from the squad that approached him, of their readying themselves for combat. With a snarl, Zachariel broke off into a slow jog, steadily closing the distance with murder on his mind. Their fire picked up at that, their concentration now fully on either Zachariel or their other foes. A perfect opportunity for Kryll and his men to move. But Zachariel simply picked up speed to a full charge, even as the enemy Graug squad charged as well.

With a roar they slammed into one another, with Zachariel breaking through one Graug and into their number. Immediately he began his assault, sword and axe swinging with controlled attacks, cutting into his foe. They returned his strikes with ferocity and their own war cries, and Zachariel matched them and exceeded them. Across the hill sounds of battle increased as battle was fully joined, with oaths being cried out and the various warriors battling for supremacy. And nearing the center of it was Zachariel, roaring his own joy and bloodlust, letting loose against his foe.

 

[Eldervine]

Objective: Feed me Seymour
Tags: Taeli Raaf | Khaostra Devoid | Kyrel Ren | Tu'teggacha | Ana Malixar
​

The Eldervine stared down at the witch before him in silence. An odd sensation. A new mind had connected it's way to the collected consciousness. A new seedling? Where once was eyes glowing bulbs formed instead, creating more of an actual face as he looked over the witch before him. Little sprouting, welcome. His voice echoed in her mind, but not just his. Numerous voices, from the various Drengir connected welcomed Khaos to their collective being.

Hunger. It was the basis of all of their emotions. The desire for meat. To harvest. To feed. An overwhelming, blinding hunger that leached through all of them. The Drengir that sprouted moved, eagerly and hungrily devouring the remnants of the bodies that had died here prior. Feasted upon the dead to satiate the initial hunger they felt. And yet, they touched no living being. Those slain were consumed, armor and all. But those who still breathed were left alone. For now. Eldervine's 'gaze' shifted up to the Ebruchi who so earnestly tried to help the Witch escape the harvest.

They didn't know.

A sound similar to a laugh escaped the leafed being. Grating against the ears, and more akin to the heavy rustle of leaves whipped by a windstorm.

"The Mawite have nothing to fear from the Drengir. We hunger, but we will honor our pact with your masters." His voice echoed not just from the plant covered Rancor. But all the Drengir in this stomping ground. "The Sith will not escape the Harvest. Their betrayal is still fresh in our minds. Help, run. You will be safe, so long as you don't get in the way of the Harvest." Those who had only been feasting on the dead all ceased. Every one 'stood' to their fullest height, their monstrous and amorphous bodies easily towering like trees. The knowledge and memories the dead once had gave them perspective. And with that perspective, they knew who to target. In a relentless wave of bark, vine, and tooth they washed out, finding those deemed Sith in the memories they ate.

There was an eerie precision in the seemingly all consuming wave of death. They, true to their word, avoided those of the Maw, weaving around them to consume their foes.

The Harvest would be plentiful.

 

[Ana Malixar]

Location: Rancor Graveyard
Allies: Taeli Raaf Tu'teggacha (?)
Enemies: Eldervine Kyrel Ren Khaostra Devoid

Ana was a bit overwhelmed by everything going on. First, Darth Arcanix had appeared behind her, musing what to do with her lightsaber. Her appearance had offered Ana some protection, something she was grateful for, but it hardly helped to alleviate her worry with so many threats around. The Master of Ren seemed eager for a fight and already had his lightsaber drawn. The witch was more troubling though. Her plants had apparently morphed into something as large as the rancor that had just been subdued. Large, towering creatures that looked more plant than than animal. She wondered if it would've been best to escape while the fight with the Rancor was ongoing. She had no idea what she was up against now or what was even going on to an extent.

Her focus on the beasts rising out of the forest floor was interrupted by the rider she had befriended earlier. He reached out to her, offering his hand amidst the chaos. It was a noble gesture, one that surprised Ana to an extent. She had definitely expected him to flee, but she didn't expect his offer to escape with him. Once Darth Arcanix had arrived, she assumed their truce was over and the valley would morph into complete conflict and disarray. It appeared she had misestimated his intentions, but she hardly had time to think about that. The situation was dire. She had read about rancors, but she had no idea what she was up against now. These vine creatures were massively and she doubted they could be subdued in the same way the rancor had been. Especially on her own.

She rushed over to the beast rider and took his knobby outstretched hand. She'd been running all day, why stop now? The force pike was still in her other hand. A fact that became more relevant as the plant monster spoke promising safety to the Maw. She didn't really expect the rider to renege on his offer, but if he did she would likely try to stab him with it. She glanced back at Arcanix as she attempted to leave. If Arcanix objected to Ana's decision, she might consider staying, but considering the Sith had the ability to teleport and Ana did not, she was very hesitant to stay behind with her. Surely Arcanix would be fine. It crossed her mind that she had no idea where this man was going or would take her. Perhaps elsewhere in the jungle or maybe back to the Maw. Either way, she was along for the ride and would deal with any obstacles as they arised.

 

[Tarok Vassket]

Location: short distance from the main group

T A R O K​

Tarok held the chain with all of his strength. The rancor only had it wrapped around one wrist, the rest of its body pinned down by nets and high tension cables. It was still winning.

Tarok leaned back, digging his heels into the ground. Inch by inch he started digging two channels through the ground.

Eventually, realising that Tarok had the arm under a little control the marauders closed in with shock poles and started attacking. As Tarok was thrown forwards a number of stune sticks to the head brought the rancor down. Tarok slowly got back to his feet and brushed himself off.

"Hah. A good hunt." he declared, glancing around at the marauders they had lost.

Tu'teggacha interrupted them, smashing through the undergrowth and making a very strange announcement.

"Jungles do not eat people," Tarok said, shaking his head.

A tentacle whipped through the foliage, grabbing a marauder around the neck and yanking him back into the trees. Screams filled the air.

"Jungles eat people."

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective II - Steal Nysillin, Burn Farms​

Location: Felucia, Jungle Hills
Allies: Andromach Hemstagon
Foes: Firrerreo

Well, that was... anticlimactic.

The Mongrel barked out a harsh laugh as the Sith's head tumbled from his shoulders, a sound rich in both mockery and relief. Killing the enemy scout had been far easier than he'd expected, having fought many Sith in the past... but despite the lack of glory such an easy kill would earn him, the marauder was just glad that there would not be an opportunity for the man to alert the rest of the Sith Eternal forces. He was utterly incredulous that the same foe who had created the fire traps that had claimed so many Athysians and Kagan-Jin could be so easily slain, but that was the battlefield for you.

It wasn't like the holovids showed. Champions died at random, victims of surprise or stray rounds.

The Mongrel turned his Gore Wasp toward Andromach, offering her a little bow. He could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't wildly pleased with his sudden appearance, swooping in to take the kill she'd been pursuing. In his mind, the mission came first, so it was far more important to silence this potential messenger as quickly as possible than to quibble over who claimed his head - not that the kill had been worth much prestige in any case. But he knew that the Athysian leader might feel differently, and he didn't want to make an enemy of her. The Maw was vulnerable after Csilla.

They needed Athysian support to survive.

"I apologize," he said, lowering his eyes respectfully as he addressed her. "I didn't mean to intrude on your battlefield claims." He hesitated, trying to find the right words. His head had grown clearer, and his sentences more coherent, over the many battles he'd fought in since that first raid on Batuu - he'd been near-feral then, with a head full of jagged memory fragments that rattled around like shards of glass. Now he could think tactically and converse intelligently, but he was still no negotiator. He was suddenly and keenly aware that he was surrounded by Athysian vehicles.

Turning away from the corpse of the Sith he'd slain, he focused his full attention on Andromach, awaiting her judgement. We would endure whatever he had to in the service of the Maw...

 

[Alars Keto]

His Bloodsworn raiders moved in the dark, shuffling through thick brush as they moved beyond titanic fugal growths charred and ravaged by the chaotic Graug. Reaching near the base of the hillside, Kryll could see the gun emplacements fire from above in sprays of floral fire and laser barrages. He smirked, they hadn’t much time before the Graug advance would be upon them. Hopefully their liege Zachariel Steelblood would slow them down and divert them long enough for Kryll and his boys to provide covering fire and pick apart the monsters where they stood.

A shiver coursed down his spine, a darkness washed over him. He could feel it in the Force, that ominous presence, Maestus . His eyes would soon verify his feeling, a blur of motion as the red Lethan Twi’lek appeared before him as if spawned from the wind itself. Kryll stood his ground despite knowing the fate of those who faced the Sith Warlord in defiance.

“What is your plan....Defector?”

"I believe, mistress, we should be taking control of the hillside." Oran murmured softly while licking his suddenly-dry lips. "Perhaps it is better to leave any conflict for another day?"

Kryll watched the man pull a knife out of his sheath. His timely intervention could of saved his life.

"I can help us get there quietly."

The man moved slow, he was entirely unfamiliar of this individual but could tell he was an ally among the MAW and a follower of the upper echelon. There was an air of the arcane about him as he sliced a small gap in the palm of his hand. The crimson smear welled up almost immediately.

"An incantation... that summons the creeping dark and will obfuscate our movements."

The dull monotone mumble of the incantation was already leaving his lips. Kryl shivered as the shadows washed over them. What manner of dark sorcery was this? Was he like the Dark Voice and the one Maestus ?

"Now the both of you, yes?"

Kryll had no knowledge of what was transpiring but he had seen far worse incantations from the Heathen Priests and they needed every advantage this battle. Against his better judgment he participated and followed suit, hoping he’d not signed a deal with the Devil.

Oran Shule