Junction Black Sabbath | Chapter I: Snake Head

[Darth Empyrean]

Feriae Junction​

Outer Rim​

900 ABY​

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The world turned as it had a million years before, as the sun rose and set on its horizons and its people rose to work or fell to sleep. Under the enlightened freedom and protection offered to them by the Mandalorian Protectors, it had found a new prosperity unchained by the imperial yoke. Thereupon a world who knew peace parsed sparingly by the militarized imperials yet fighting for control, people lived lives capable of joy.​

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It was there, in the morning sky over New Junction, that a storm began to form. Lightning arced miles, and dread began to fill the sky as an artificial eclipse shadowed the Capital in violence. Above their heads, and citizens and soldiers alike turned their gaze to the sky and a new dawn - they would see the silhouette of a great harbinger of death. It formed from the aether, a ship out of nightmares forged from the screaming violent deaths of millions; and its name was the on lips of all.​

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“Mors Mon.”, the Mountain in the Sky, Death’s Chariot. ​

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Amidst shuttering and violent clouds that began to stir the air and form tornados in its wake, it began to ignite the world in an instant, brutal artillery barrage on everything beneath it. So instant was its destruction, thousands of lives turned to ash in only a matter of seconds - ignited tibanna gas cutting great swathes of death through the world. Death on a mass scale had come for this world, marked by the sudden release of five battlecruisers - Khan class destroyers setting out to destroy the various cities of the world. ​

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It became immediately obvious, a fact so brutal there was no denial, that the Sith had not come here for conquest. Their shots didn’t target the military stations with priority, they did not surgically strike at the most important, critical locations, instead saturating the most heavily populated places in seconds. Emergency beacons, SOS signals, a thousand alarms silenced by the brutal and unequal aggression. ​

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Now the world was under siege by a force unwilling to conquer, but to genocide and destroy. This was not the fight most had become used to - wherein they would fight for geopolitical dominance, but the blind and judased destruction of an entire world.​

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Objective I - Snake’s Head ​

The Council of Feriae Junction met often to discuss the life and times of their world, assured by the protection of the Mandalorians. It was the sudden assault that broke them from the peaceful dream they held, that their protection was absolute. They assumed that if any violence came to their door, it would be by the Imperial Remnants - not this. ​

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Now, the Sith had come from the sky - with no warning. An immediate and destructive response that held no equal. The nearest forces were jumps away. In all this chaos, the Council had come to terms that they would need to depart to vaults and shelters far from the war, overcoming their streets and sky. ​

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The Sith, as if aware of the evacuation, began to appear in the Federal Building with no warning. Reports began to come in of assaults in all directions, places none would be able to reach - but the worst of the reports spoke of Death itself. There on the radio, the screams reached the officers of a single being killing all he approached;​

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“Darth Empyrean.”​

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Protect the council, the Emperor comes for their life.​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

A world marked for death, and death itself walked upon its surface. Poetic as a thought, but the reality was all the more cruel. The Emperor Empyrean strode through the halls with his staff whipping and screaming through durasteel walls and striking anyone foolish or slow enough to remain. Metal clicking from plates on the bottom of his boots warned of his approach, as though the sound of death was not enough.​

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That sharp rhythmic echo at least gave them a warning - and their fear would fuel his power. Today, he marched on the leadership of this world, so that in the event that the Mors Mon was forced to retreat before the world was ash, it would not recover from the chaos he intended to sew. This would be a marker for something more grand, and the death caused here would feed it. Unseen by all, high above the world within the belly of the Mors Mon, the Sepulchral and trusted Sith Lords worked tirelessly to turn these deaths to his favor.​

​

They would do so until the marker was complete, and should his assault fail, he could only rely on the great tarnished emotions of the world, the trauma he would leave behind to fuel it. No matter what came of this, he would win.​

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For now, however, he must focus his mind on the path forward - through the necks of the leaders of this world, no matter who stood in his way.​

 

[Ordo]

The sound of alarms blared like screaming beast as the council met for what had been hoped to be a simple annual event. Their overstuffed shirts matched the softness of these bureaucrats. Ordo didn't hate them. He didn't truly hate anyone. He hated things, ideals, and the actions people took, but not individuals. However, even things he didn't like had a place, and He wouldn't deny the weak their illusions. He quickly racked His heavy ripper and ordered the politicians to take cover. His Clan mates fanned out, some with blasters, others disruptors and rippers, a bare few even with trophy lightsabers and pistols. They were His best. The Jai'galaar. Ordo's Uglies. Orphans and Bastards, all. And none too pretty, but what they lacked in dashing good looks and fashion sense, they more than made up for in brutal efficiency. He had called them back, all 14 from the Manda. They had been His only personally trained and hand picked force He had never replaced one. All died after Him all returned to serve the vode once more.

"Secure the perimeter of the chambers." Ordo said over the helmet comms, "Nothing in or out until its clear."

He turkey peeked out the main doors and saw nothing coming...yet. but they were all too vulnerable.

"And get the deflectors on for this damn building." He said as their techie nodded and ran to do just that, "These good folks are squishy. Hate for them to pop."

Darth Empyrean Arla Rodarch Darth Prazutis Darth Feira Darth Carnifex Drego Ruus

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Darth Empyrean Ordo
​

Just outside the senate chambers, a man stood. Waiting.

One might call a man on such a mission insane. Drego had been called as such before.

On his left arm, a shield of beskar, voidstone, and seigurium. In his right, a shotgun. The shotgun that has carried him through many a battle, that he had reforged specifically for this one.

Man versus God. That's what was ringing through Drego's head. His armor had always been designed to fight force users, and Drego knew it could last.

But this?

This was nuts.

But one could say he'd been dealing in the insane all his life. Jumping off skyscrapers to grapple with tie bombers. Picking fights with the head of the guard over what was, in the end, a semantic argument that couldn't been resolved peacefully. But peaceful was never the Mandalorian Way.

Now he was fighting the Dead God.

Let him come.

 

[Domina Prime]

In the shadowed halls of ancient lore,
A whisper stirs the embers' core,
The Majestic Flame of Manda calls,
Through starlit nights and darkened halls.

Ha'Rangir, the destroyer's voice,
In flames of war, the chosen rejoice,
Their axes raised in fervent plea,
To shatter stars, to set souls free!

War for war's own savage sake,
A cycle of ruin that none can break,
From ashes cold, new life must bloom,
In the heart of chaos, a destined doom.

With Mythic Axe & Warrior's Creed,
The Majestic Flame shall plant its ember seed,
In every heart that yearns for might,
To dance with shadows, to kindle the light.

So listen close, O child of fire,
To ancient dreams & dark desire,
The Mandalorian spirit, fierce and wild,
In every wandering, war-torn child~

​

BROTHERS & SISTERS: Drego Ruus | Chaaj Priest | Mia Monroe | Arla Rodarch

OPPOSING CHAMPIONS: Darth Empyrean | Darth Strosius | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Prazutis


There weren't enough words in ANY language to describe the immeasurable euphoric BLISS radiating from the girlish devil as she hymned and chanted an ancient Mandalorian tune as the bustle and roar of sirens throughout the Council Citadel blared which caused forces on all sides to stir and twist as the battle lurked ever closer. The sharpened claws of Domina traced delicately over the Crown of Furyia, an accursed Mythosuar Axe that whispered sweet songs of war and fire into the Mad Witch of Mandalores ear as she remained on her knees within the main hall of the Senate Building. And just outside those massive doors stood Drego Ruus , a stalwart sentinel awaiting the impossible odds soon to be thrust upon him.

She was so exhilarated! The turbulent quakes and shakes of the earth as artillery and explosives decimated the surface of this world a shudder traveled up her spine. The CLINK, CLANK, CLUNK of heavy boots and rattling armor filled the air as Domina remained upon her knees with those many eyes staring into an open flame within the chamber. The ghostly visage of an Axe burning seemingly without a source as the force itself fueled its flame through the spirit witin her weapon.

She appeared to be in some sort of...prayer.

"Hey! We're under siege get to your battle stations!" One soldier asked as they walked by the kneeling xeno as Domina continued to murmur and whisper. The soldier approaching and reaching down to grip Dimas shoulder to stir her from her religious trance. "Not the time for prayers! It's time for action! Get it in gear Mando!" One of the council guards pulled, causing Dima's many eyes to slowly drift open as Dimas tail rattled in agitation.

The prehensile appendage smacked the hand away from her as the towering amazon of a woman picked herself up from her prayer.

"Something you should know~" She hissed as the ghostly burning flame manifested into the shape of an Axe before solidifying into her claws, the phantom within the blade radiating with warmth. "These Darkborn Godlings, mighty as they are, Seek to visit divine destruction upon you. And honestly, Dima does not much care if you or your people survive." She told them honestly, the scrutiny of her gaze firmly upon the measly foot soldier grunts stomping and barking as if they could truly make a difference.

"H-huh? What? There somethin you wanna say to us? The Protectors pledged to defend us in times of ne-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~" Dima put a finger to the soldiers lips as she dragged her Mythosuar Axe across the marble stone. "Listen to Dima and know This One speaks no lies. In this world, if you are not strong enough to not only protect and defend your ideas, lack the POWER to PROJECT them upon others. Then you will perish to those who can." She told the Senate Guard very bluntly as only Domina Prime could. "This bloodshed and fire will either forge you into something worthy of The Gods. Or you will buckle and break beneath the pressure." She cooed warmly before pressing her claws into the soldiers shoulder and shoving them aside.

"You haven't told me anything i don't already know! That's WHY we're fighting!" The soldier barked back as Domina walked through them and towards the main doors of the senate building.

"No, not fighting. Not really. It's really more of a uhhh, desperate struggle! And a sad one~" She corrected impishly with a devilish grin. "So just try not to lose your head! Survive this battle, and MAYBE Dima will learn your names. But all Dima sees when she looks at you is FREE FOOD! So WHATS IT GONNA BE? Eat? or be EATEN?" She snarled viciously before using three of her massive arms to push open those heavy doors leading outside the chamber.

Leaving the Council Guard to ponder on what The Mad Witch had told them as Domina approached closely beside Drego Ruus , lifting TWO of her arms and delivering a HARSH SLAP directly into the back armor of Drego, nearly threatening to send him stumbling forward "Too many sharks in the water and not enough BLOOD IN THE WAVES! Ya know what Dima means? Are you excited little brother? Can you FEEL THE FIRE in your loins!" She cackled girlishly while parking the head of her axe into the stairs, shattering the stone like glass as Dima reached down towards her belt and took her black mask. Putting it on and inhaling deeply while twisting and craning her neck back and forth as enemy forces encroached ever closer.

"Psst, ey, brother. Did YOU want first dibs on the strongest godlings who arrive? Ya know since ya were here first? Hopefully there are many and they live up to the myth of their might! This One hopes they don't disappoint, godlings these days just don't have the GUILE Dimas been lookin for. Just a bunch of uninspired schemers and snakes usually, seems most darkborn don't ACTUALLY know how to fight! Weird right?" She complained, only able to count the amount of worthy Darkborn Champions on only a couple of her hands! Chatting it up with Drego extremely casually despite the fact that space wizards and warlocks were currently descending upon them in an...overwhelmingly menacing manner.

Though, seemed the more menacing the situation. The more excited Domina became as her bones itched in such a way that drove the xeno mad. "Oh, yeah, in just in case we all dieeeeeeeeee" She reached out and wrapped her arm around Dregos neck, pulling him into her as Dima pulled out a Datapad and held the device above Drego and Dimas heads with the overview of Sith ships flying overhead preforming their bombing runs. "Just look into the camera! there we are annnnnnnnnnnnnd~"

CLICK!

Dima snapped a picture of Drego & Dima. Essentially a selfie taken moments before catastrophe as the battle began to rage all around them. Dima giggling girlishly and looking at the picture and nodding to herself.

"Awesome! Now Dima can remember us on this day! Now lets give The Allfathers a spectacle to FEAST UPON!" She shouted, lifting her two upper arms into the air with her Axe overhead as she snarled into the air. "DIMAS READY TO TEAR SOMEONE APART AND FUCK SHIT UP!"

 

[Arla Rodarch]

​

Feriae Junction
Imperial University Library
Equipment : JT-12, Beskad, Claw and Fang, Phazor, Shotguns
Objective : Escort Council Member (and get ambushed by Darth Malum of House Marr )


Junction's Imperial University seemed like a fine place, but right now it was the very last place Arla Rodarch wanted to be. She was contracted to protect the Ruling Council, and one of its members, the Lord Tatberd, had insisted on making a side trip to the university library. Despite Arla's vehement and very sensible arguments, the man had insisted on retrieving his damn books personally.

Supposedly he had to retrieve a rare book he'd loaned to the University, and some other data he'd been evasive about. That meant it was probably compromising information, either about him personally or his government. That also meant he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and so the library now had a large and heavily armed Mandalorian striding through it, behind one of the planetary rulers, in a karking great hurry.

The reason that the Mandalorian Protectors were under contract in the first place was the very real and imminent threat of Sith attack. A library was no place to be, not with the rest of the vode protecting the rest of the council somewhere much better defended. A single shell could collapse this whole damned building on top of all of them. Lots of large glass windows. Not a place Arla wanted to try and defend.

"Will you hurry the ferrik up?" Arla asked the little lord. She had found him to be a crook, a shifty, slimy man, and a puffed up simpleton at that. The man growled back as if he were talking to one of his servants or sycophants. "You don't speak to me that way." He said. Arla was having none of that. "You paid for protection, not sweet words, and you paid in advance. So hurry the ferrik up." It helped she supposed that she was twenty centimeters taller, clad in armour, and carrying a lot of firepower.

They were running out of time. If the attack hadn't started already, it damn well would soon, and this was no place to get caught in the open. Unless she was planning to repel a siege by throwing books and datacards at the enemy. Lord Twatbeard, as Arla had begun to think of the puffed up local bureaucrat, was taking his ferriking time. If they were caught here in the open, they were in serious trouble. Arla wouldn't mind something misfortunate occuring to the officious little man, but a contract was a contract, and so it wouldn't happen on her watch.

But they were running out of time. She could feel it.

Allies : Domina Prime Drego Ruus Ordo Mia Monroe
Enemies : Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Darth Strosius Gerwald Lechner

 

[Darth Strosius]

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Objective: Secure the Rear
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Engaging: Mia Monroe
On Scene: Darth Empyrean / Ordo / Drego Ruus / Domina Prime / Arla Rodarch

Their orders had been clear and succinct. To bring ruin to Feriae Junction. To remind the Mandalorian Protectorate that the Sith hold on their ancient Holy Worlds and the systems around them was not fleeting nor was it to be intruded upon. Frankly, Darth Strosius himself thought that since the Kainites were the ones that had not only held the main ire of the Mandalorian people but also were the ones gifted with possession of the Holy Worlds, such matters would be left to them.

And when they would inevitably trip over their own arrogance and let themselves be bested by Imperials and Mandalorian alike, more worthy Sith would be able to wrench control of the Holy Worlds from them. Alas it seemed as though the 'emperor' did not share in this view. And thus the Sith Order assaulted the Junction. And thus the Inquisition moved to gain whatever they could from a conflict they barely cared for.

The Lord Inquisitor himself stood with his arms crossed behind his back as the bodies of the capitol guards were dragged and piled up away from the main scene of the action, many of them bearing scorch marks and lightsaber slashes from his own hands. The Troopers were diligent in their work, removing the bodies of the guards from what few defensive positions they were able to occupy during their surprise attack on the council building before swiftly replacing them at their posts.

Empyrean wanted to hunt down the council and any within their chambers, so Darth Strosius felt it was only natural that he secure the streets and alleys outside of the building to prevent any possible routes of escape or interrupting reinforcements. Well, that and to debate whether or not he could rig the building to collapse from outside to bury the Corpse Lord permanently. Something that he was still entertaining even as his Troopers secured their final stations around the council building.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia felt every strike upon the city of New Junction like the orbital bombardment was targeting her own body. Screams echoed in her head, spirits that had not had a chance to scream in their death, wailing as they passed into the manda. Bellows and shots of rage joined the chorus, a demand for blood, for justice.

A demand for war.

The drop ship rocked violently, as it came under fire, hauling her out of the recess in her mind as they descended towards the council, her grip tightening on the hold above her head as her t-visor moved across the team with her, all of them silent, each of them consumed b their own rage. She had known an attack would come, no matter what Darth Malum of House Marr had told her about his success in deterring the sith from retaliating, she knew the distraction would not last long. She had also expected a warning from him, but for the first time since their arrangement began, he had failed her.

A scream of alarms blared before an explosion tore away the aft section of the dropship, sending them into a spiral, half her team disappearing. She added them to the tally and let go of her hand hold, allowing the force of the spin to launch her out of the ship, activating her jetpack to correct herself in time to see the ship crash into the outskirts of the council citadel.

"Chit." she muttered to herself before opening comms. "Din'kartay?"

For a moment, only static responded, then a flicker of movement as four friendlies flashed up one by one on her HUD. Four would have to be enough. "Lets secure an escape route." she signallled for them to break away, each moving to different areas of the citadels perimter to assess what they were dealing with. "Kill all sith forces on site."

Amidst the noise of the bombarment and the assault throughout the city, their jetpacks were just another noise. She let her sense guide her, using her HUD only for confirmation of what she was seeing, bodies piling up, sith securing the perimeter. If they couldn't clear a path, her brother and the others would be trapped inside.

Mia deactivated her jet pack, dropping like a rock towards the ground, collecting the force beneath her as she did. With a resounding crack the shattered the duracrete at her feet and sent a wave of force energy rippling out, she landed behind a masked sith.

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Where stood in his path, only death came. Pale and thin, the world seemed to ooze the sensation of death as the Emperor approached the council chambers. More than just the sensation, the physical manifestation of his power, and the horrendous smell of burnt flesh and blood from his staff as it tore through the building of its own design. Empyrean could sense where it was, far from where he was - but close enough for what he needed.​

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No, Empyrean walked into the lobby of the chamber with no weapon. On one side of his body, a fist tightly wound as he marched towards the two defenders who had made themselves a wall to his goal. On the other, a black cloud of pure dark side energy - a cloud that had shaped itself vaguely into another arm, yet it was clear that whatever matter touched it burned away into nothing. Metal eyes greeted visors, and Empyrean offered them nothing but apathy and disgust.​

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"Do not sacrifice your life for the sake of theirs.", he said, as though his will were inexorable. Perhaps it was.​

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"In minutes, this world will be without its leaders, but it will burn whether you stand in my way or not. Let your death have meaning, do not let your life blood spill over sycophants and politicians."​

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He continued his march forward.​

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"Their lives are worth less than a warriors, and I will prove it with their screams."​

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The door behind them was to be his only challenge, none that stood between him would stop him this day.​

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Drego Ruus // Domina Prime​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Secure the Rear
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Engaging: Mia Monroe

"INCOMING!" The shout of a Trooper over the comm channel drew the masked Sith from his musings, his gaze snapping to where a drop ship was plummeting from the sky and crashing into one of the statues outside of the council chamber. Thankfully no Troopers were caught in the crash but the subsequent shrapnel and flying rubble did catch a few of the nearby soldiers that weren't quick enough to hit the ground in time.

Medics were quick to move in to retrieve the injured Troopers, dragging them behind the perimeter of the makeshift defensive positions around the council building. Darth Strosius did not care at all for having his force reduced before their fighting even really began. It was bad enough that they were right at the heart of enemy territory with scarce few soldiers as it was, the last thing he needed was his few Troopers being put out of commission by a crashing ship of all things.

He reached up to tap on his commlink as his soldiers quickly started to reorganize their positions to account for the lost of manpower, having to spread out wider than was ideal. :"Would anyone like to tell me who the feth just threw a ship at our position?": As his hand fell back down to his side and the wait for a quick search of the crashed vessel to begin commenced, he couldn't help but feel on edge. Something pricked at the back of his mind. A warning, a notion, a hunch that nothing was all that it seemed.

A glance would be spared back at the crashed ship, one that would narrow to a glare. :"Someone report, where is the crew of that ship?": The answer to both of his questions would come then. Not from his Troopers nor from a communication in general however. Instead the answers would come in the form of a wave in the Force hitting him from behind suddenly.

The masked man was indeed thrown off of his feet, caught off guard by the show of force, but he didn't stay in the air long. With the flick of a wrist his lightsaber would fly into his hand and ignite, the crimson blade stabbing into the duracrete below as his heavy boots hit the ground and dug into it in order to halt his momentum. The moment that he was back on the ground and stable he pulled his blade from the ground and drew his sword in his other hand as his gaze snapped to his assailant.

"Ah, Mandalorians. That would explain it." Evidently the first of the relief forces had arrived sooner than expected. No matter, he would sweep them away all the same. Knowing the other's typical preference and propensity for ranged weaponry, he wasted no time in rushing forward to close the gap between them once more. Despite his heavy robes and armor his stride was as light as it was swift, his blades bared and eager to strike.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

With one hand, the Emperor made him one of the most powerful and influential figures within the Imperium, offering him a place upon his Dark Council, though with it currently standing with three heads, it may as well have been a Dark Triumvirate.

With the other hand, the Emperor ignored his counsel and struck one of the outermost gates into Mor- Mandalorian space without even informing him. Though with how relatively small Mor- Mandalorian space was, even a strike here, was easily a strike that could carry deep into the heart, all the way to Mor- Mandalore.

The Emperor distrusted him, that much was obvious.

Yet as ever, the Emperor confused him beyond that obvious distrust.

It had to be of the incident upon the Mors Mon, his failure with Alicia Drey , having lost him Darth Empyrean 's confidence... if he even had it to begin with.

Yet how could he reconcile that with the same man who so willingly would split his own power to ascend three to at least theoretically his equal? Malum had once thought it would be through the Assembly that one would come to challenge imperial power, and though he still considered that avenue.

Here the Emperor was... granting him such high station, true, it had taken his supporters in the Assembly to truly accomplish it, but at the end of the day, despite all the antipathy many in the Order held towards him, the question of his age, had not been an insurmountable task. Especially, as the Emperor had not only thrown his full weight behind the proposal but made the formation of the Dark Council contingent on all three of his choices being jointly appointed.

Even if Eternalists and Kainites disliked... despised him so, to vote against him, was to vote against Gerwald Lechner and Taeli Raaf as well.

So what was the Emperor's game?

And when would Malum finally begin to feel as if he was a player?

Such doubts and concerns mattered little now, whatever the Emperor's objective, whatever Malum's doubts. Whether it was some move to entrap him between fellow Councillors that he may have been expected to feud with, or nether forbid, subordinate himself to, for after all, a Dark Councillor without the support of a peer, could accomplish little.

Whatever it was.

He would make the most of it as he always had.

And in this moment, focus on the far more important matter.

The masked figure crested the hill, to the campus of the deserted Imperial University, some distance away from the library and archive which was his objective was keenly noted through crimson eyes. As he tapped onto his wristcomm, as usual, dual objectives were at play. The Emperor had struck Feriae Junction without informing him up until the very last moment.

He had been unable to warn Mia Monroe .

This would... be complicated.

Fortunately... though truly, unfortunately, as the wristcomm connected to the personal signal on Mor- Mandalore, he did not hear the voice of the much older, former Mand'alor.

He would avoid a verbal lashing... but she was absent for whatever reason...

Had she already learned of the Emperor's move?

...Did she think he had betrayed their pact?

"I have little time to explain, the Emperor has struck Feriae Junction, victory against the Imperials has emboldened him, he did not warn me of this, I am sorry, but I do not think I can buy you any more time." The wristcomm recorded with a click.

Not that she deserved warning... as he knew... her intentions...

...Still, there was time to convince her.

Their pact still remained.

And now the second objective, the masked figure, more wraith than man, stalked across the rolling fields, going invisible to the the naked and unnaked eye. The Emperor did not trust him, and that was likely something that would not change easily, even as he plotted and schemed to fix that great mistake upon the Mors Mon.

Even if that could be accomplished.

He was still the apprentice of Darth Ophidia .

To trust such a man would be rather foolish.

If... even Malum so wished to gain that trust.

That dinner party had revealed so much...

Malum reached the wall of the complex, without a moment's thought stepping into the wall, phasing right through it. The rest of the Tsis'Kaar had been deployed to aid the Emperor in seizing the government, and in causing chaos on the streets. His objective on the other hand? Seizing all that this planetary government had hidden away in this archive.

Secrets, of an administrative matter, are certainly not flashy.

But would show if he could secure, and present to the Emperor.

Despite any opposition at a war council, Malum would support the Emperor in any matter.

Even as he worked in the shadows to subvert them.

Even doing that, even that, made him feel an emotion he felt far too often, but never for this.

Guilt.

He had faced the guilt of believing himself a traitor before.

But that was treason for a man he did not care for, hated in fact, for all his immortal tyranny.

But treason for one that he might hold genuine loyalty for, one who saw the Force as he did?

That was a different thing entirely.

Through the mask, his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, tall shelves towered to the ceiling, and wide shelves contained all the books one might have needed for a single lifetime.

Yet they were not what he required.

And he quickly realised, he was not alone.

An unfamiliar voice spoke with one... that was barely familiar.

But all too familiar.

The last time they had met... Lady Rodarch... Arla Rodarch ...

...It had not been a good first impression certainly.

And now he held a rather intriguing opportunity.

As quiet as a mouse, steps unperceivable made themselves across the wooden floors of the almost deserted building, eyes quickly confirming what he had known, a large beskar suit, accompanying another... though by the scurrying nature, and rat-like disposition, to consider him some government officiary, certainly was not an unfair estimation.

And between two great shelves... likely not expecting an enemy so close... they were delightfully exposed.

A pity for the books, however...

...Might he save them too?

He smiled underneath the mask, gazing carefully, as he silently raised his hands up.

And he pushed.

It began as a creaking weight, nothing out of the particular in a library made of oaks, but just as quickly, the wooden avalanche began, as around the Mor- Mandalorian and official, the bookshelves around them began to fall forward atop them, aiming to crush them under the immense weight of the structures around them,

The only clue that something unnatural was afoot?

The books were pushed out, to their safety, in the opposite direction.

 

[Arla Rodarch]

​

Feriae Junction
Imperial University Library
Equipment : JT-12, Beskad, Claw and Fang, Phazor, Shotguns
Objective : Escort Council Member

The Marshal of the Journeyman Protectors was painfully ignorant of the true inner workings of the Sith Order. She was a Moridinzid to the core, and though she hated the Sith for what they had done to the home world, she did respect their power. To her the Sith Order appeared as a monolithic culture with great military strength, backed up by an impenetrable shadowy web of alliances between powerful dark side force users. They were not to be underestimated.

Arla had met Malum once before in the city of Keldabe, with an outcome unsatisfactory to both parties. She would relish another chance to trade barbs with the Sith Lord. Both of them had changed and developed since last they had faced off. It would prove most interesting.

The unexpected creak as the heavy wooden shelving began to move was Arla's first warning that trouble had arrived. "Ferrik!"

She moved immediately to shove, enjoying the excuse to shove the officious Lord Tatberd, bowling him well out of the way of the danger. She had not the time or the ability to save anyone else. Two students and a staff member were crushed by the fall as it smashed down. Blood trickled out from under the smashed shelves, but Arla couldn't help that. Lord Tatberd looked to be knocked out. But she couldn't worry about him right now.

The books had fallen out the wrong way. That was her second warning that something was seriously wrong here. She naturally put herself between the fallen official and the direction she suspected whoever had pushed over the shelves were. Assassin? Arla ran a multi-spectral scan and picked up a lifeform that didn't belong. She'd scanned the library on entrance, and this was a new and different presence. Assassin.

Arla's shotgun came out and up in a smooth and practised motion in her right hand. She held a firing posture with her body between her protectee and her threat profile. Ice and Fire ready to fly, she looked downrange with eyes augmented by technology, making sure she took a clear shot. She didn't know who or what would appear. She knew she couldn't afford to miss. She saw a figure, and fired, sending one round, ice, flying downrange.

The shell was guided, tracking towards the figure. The flight took fractions of a second, the round detonated, and blew its cone of deadly kiiricaabine and soulsteel sharp shards towards Darth Malum of House Marr at extreme speed.

The shards froze the very air itself as they passed, extremely cold. The soulsteel was imbued with the Dark Side itself, and possessed a nasty electrical charge. Combined they could present a nasty effect. The effect presented pushes feelings of excitement, resolve, fear, and panic. None of which meant anything to Arla who was Force Dead. She didn't expect any assassin, Sith or otherwise, to be prepared for a random Mandalorian to utilize their own Dark Side as a weapon against them. Especially without warning.

She hadn't recognized the dark figure, but that really didn't matter. Explosions could be heard from far off, and she thought she could also hear screams. The Sith were here. The Mandalorians, and Feriae Junction, had run out of time. Once again, only war remained.

"You're gonna die here!" Arla taunted the figure she expected that she'd just mortally wounded. She would be quite surprised to find that any assassin or otherwise would survive what she'd just thrown at them. She didn't know who it was she was facing, yet.

Allies : Ordo Mia Monroe Domina Prime Drego Ruus
Enemies : Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Darth Empyrean

 

[Ordo]

The sound of alarms blared like screaming beast as the council met for what had been hoped to be a simple annual event. Their overstuffed shirts matched the softness of these bureaucrats. Ordo didn't hate them. He didn't truly hate anyone. He hated things, ideals, and the actions people took, but not individuals. However, even things he didn't like had a place, and He wouldn't deny the weak their illusions. He quickly racked His heavy ripper and ordered the politicians to take cover. His Clan mates fanned out, some with blasters, others disruptors and rippers, a bare few even with trophy lightsabers and pistols. They were His best. The Jai'galaar. Ordo's Uglies. Orphans and Bastards, all. And none too pretty, but what they lacked in dashing good looks and fashion sense, they more than made up for in brutal efficiency. He had called them back, all 14 from the Manda. They had been His only personally trained and hand picked force He had never replaced one. All died after Him all returned to serve the vode once more.

"Secure the perimeter of the chambers." Ordo said over the helmet comms, "Nothing in or out until its clear."

He turkey peeked out the main doors and saw nothing coming...yet. but they were all too vulnerable.

"And get the deflectors on for this damn building." He said as their techie nodded and ran to do just that, "These good folks are squishy. Hate for them to pop."

Darth Empyrean Arla Rodarch Darth Prazutis Darth Feira Darth Carnifex Drego Ruus

"Well that didn't take long." He said to his crew before He nodded one t-shape visor to another, "Set charges and make a way out we're going for a walk."

"You have to protect us, that was our deal." One of the councilors shouted at one of His crew as she started hearding them to a corner. She pointed a Mandalorian ripper at the soft man's face.

"Are you questioning Clan Ordo's integrity, you fat sloppy cushion of a man?" Her voice came out calm and hollow as sweat formed on his forehead.

"Down Jespa." Ordo said as He set a big hand on her shoulder, "Aruettii say a lot of stupid things they don't mean and fear makes them worse. Ignore it."

"Aye, Buir." She said as she contniued to get them out of the way.

"Popping the lid." Another said as they backed away from the magnesium phosphate tape that they placed on the wall and pushed a button.

Sizzling and a heavy slam of air being displaced a subsonic speeds left the councilors cowering and holding their ears before the unit began hauling them bodily through the smoking hole in the wall.

"Jespa, Akan. Take the rear." He said as He forced himself through the makeshift doorway, "Vilaztromus, take point, I'm next. Keep the councilors in the center."

He placed a hand on the pointman's shoulder and then they all began moving toward the waiting transports in on the nearby landing pad.

"We need extraction." He said into his comms to the ships that had been waiting for the worst case scenario to inevitably become the only scenario.

"Copy, Alor." A voice said in response, "One to two minutes and counting down."


Darth Empyrean Arla Rodarch Darth Prazutis Drego Ruus
Mia Monroe
Darth Strosius

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia rose smoothly from the centre of the small crater she'd created, a cold calculated anger rolling out from her as her gaze swept across the scattered troopers, one hand passed smoothly over her shoulder, drawing her beskad from its sheath on her back while the other activated whistling birds that erupted from her forearm, finding their marks within the flesh of those to slow to rise.

She didn't grant the death sith much more thought, her gaze focused on the target that was advancing on her, lightsaber in one hand, sword in the other. "Not today." she muttered. Her beskad flashed upwards, seeking to catch the strike from the bade, while her hand ensnared the lightsaber, heat running up her hand as she drew on the energy the tutaminis charged her with.

Mia granted the sith one, up down assessment, before headbutting him.

Darth Strosius

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Darth Empyrean Domina Prime
​

"Psst, ey, brother. Did YOU want first dibs on the strongest godlings who arrive? Ya know since ya were here first?"

There was something very strangely comforting about having Domina next to you as a Mando. "How 'bout we share this one? He's a big Godling, big enough to share."

Drego could feel it. The approach of the Dark. Even as someone who had no connection to the Force, Drego could feel it.

"Their lives are worth less than a warriors, and I will prove it with their screams."

And there he was.

"You'll have to get through the both of us first." Drego spoke in defiance. No Fear. No Fear. He smashed his shotgun up against his shield. "So come on ya big dumb zombie motherfarker, show me what you got!"

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Secure the Rear
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Engaging: Mia Monroe

Unfortunately the Troopers close to the site of the Mandalorian's impact, and those that moved to intercept in an attempt to aid their Lord, were not spared the wrath of the armored warrior either. And that was without the action unfolding all around the perimeter as a few more Mandalorians came in to break their hold on the capital chambers. An attack that they were most certainly not prepared for at the moment but one that they could hopefully repel.

Darth Strosius intended on slaying the Beskar-clad warriors one at a time himself if need be. Starting with the one that made a crater right behind him and threw him for a little flight. A shame that he wouldn't be able to take his time ripping her apart but such was the necessity of battle he supposed. Given that she only managed to block his sword he figured that this little duel would be quick, his lightsaber would no doubt make short work of her hand that was coming to meet it and then he would cut her down and move on.

But then the crimson blade didn't carve through her hand. His gaze narrowed and a curse was hissed out under his breath as he glared at his opponent and prepared to pull back in order to make another strike. Then she headbutted him. His head reeled back for just a moment before he recovered, cracking his neck with a growl. "That the best you got, heathen?"

All he would need was one solid strike where there wasn't any Beskar to block his blades, but first he'd need them back to even make an attempt. Lightning crackled to life in his hands, with several arcs dancing up the blade of his sword as he attempted to push her back and wrench his lightsaber from her grasp at the same time as one of his knees shot up to try and land in her side.

 

[Mia Monroe]

"That the best you got, heathen?"

Mia let out a low chuckle, the lightening reflecting it her t-visor as it crackled along his blade towards hers.

"I've not even started."

She didn't shy away from it, releasing her grip on the lightsaber as his pull away from her reached its peak, aiming to off balance him as the knee snapped up towards her, she twisted letting it land against her armoured thigh before twisting the lightening sword away from her.

Her free hand snapped forward, a force push aimed for his chest to create distance between them and that lightening. Not that she couldn't handle it, it was more that she really didn't want to.

"You know, you've a better chance of survival if you just get out of my way."


Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

View attachment 1086​

Objective: Secure the Rear
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Engaging: Mia Monroe

The ease with which he managed to pull his lightsaber from the Mandalorian's grasp did indeed catch him by surprise, his knee going slightly off course as his body angled oddly due to the sudden release. His body going in one direction while the hand holding his sword being twisted n the other was far from comfortable but it was nothing that he couldn't handle. He did still have both hands after all.

The push sent him back just enough to give both him and his opponent some breathing room before he duck his heels in and stopped himself once more. "Funny." Darth Strosius shifted his stance as he flexed his wrist, bearing both of his blades in front of himself once more as he shifted so that his side was facing his foe.

"I was just about to say the same thing." He reared back before leaping forward and swinging both of his blades around, this time both coming from the same direction, as he pounced at the Mandalorian. A simple and aggressive motion that he intended to batter down his armored opponent with.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Tag: Domina Prime // Drego Ruus​

​

(Skipping Domina.)

"Show me what you got!", the Mandalorian declared in the false safety of his beskar'gam.​

​

Empyrean never ceased his march forward, like the tide his power pressed forward with every step. There was no change in his expression, no sudden shift into anger or ambivalence, only apathy. The Emperor was not to be cowed or dragged into an argument of courage with a man who couldn't understand the world past the barrel of his gun.

As he neared, he lowered himself as though he were about to dive at Drego from across the room - expecting the Mandalorian to lift his gun and fire. Empyrean could not see the future, he could not predict Drego's actions, because the Force had long cut it's designs and plans from him. He was not privy to its understanding for the abomination he had become, for his abandonment of passive acceptance of the old order. Even still, he was a master of combat, and he knew the only response to a man flying at you was to empty two slugs into his head.

But his staff, creating chaos and murder in the floors below, struck upwards from the floor just beneath Drego. It's force saber moved to slice at his arms, and his shotgun, to break his weaponry before it even had the chance to try and harm the Emperor of the Sith. The Dark Lord didn't dive as his body had given the impression of, and he slowly stood upright once more. Another step forward, and the loud click of the metal plate on his ball of his foot echoed.

"The Mandalorian's are a strong people.", he mused.

"But a weapon is a material thing, it lacks the refinement of true power. Would you like a weapon that could harm me, Commando?", Empyrean asked as he lifted his still physical hand, and within it formed the shape of a shotgun to replace the one Empyrean had attempted to strike.

And it felt disgusting to even look upon.​

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
​

But his staff, creating chaos and murder in the floors below, struck upwards from the floor just beneath Drego.

As Empyrean lowered himself, Drego kept his stance. Firing on the Sith would be the obvious choice. Too Obvious. He held his ground, and waited a second longer as the Force Saber Pike came up, and Drego raised his shield. The Impact could be heard from inside the chambers Drego was guarding. The sound of metal on metal.

Rather, Drego raised an arm, and fired a cryo beam at the sith's feet from his vambrace. A mando was always one for tricks, but Drego was one of action.

"But a weapon is a material thing, it lacks the refinement of true power. Would you like a weapon that could harm me, Commando?",

"What you define as true power is a crutch. Now shut up and die quietly."

Drego wasn't interested in debates of power. To him, every man's power came from their character. Every man's power came from how they fought. Skill was the only power he cared about. And skill was not something so easily attained. He had heard the myths, the legends of the Dead God.

Now was time to put them to the test. See the truth of it all. Because every myth was a certain level of fantasy to hide your weaknesses.