Invasion Break of Dawn || CIS Invasion of BOTM held Rhand

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

LOCATION: En Route to Surface
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Strømafbryder
ALLIES: CIS | Lunara Azure | Kristyl Arenais | Dreidi Xeraic | Rann Thress
ENEMIES: The Mongrel
PET: xxx

Do some good.

Lunara rarely uttered that phrase in such a brutish context. Gerwald could feel the darkness which was seeping from her in the form of the ice which enveloped the ship. She was the epicenter of it, the ice queen. It felt odd that what they were about to do, the lives they would take, could somehow be justified as good. They were about to kill in order that others could live. It was as though they were playing God, deciding who would live and who would die, but wasn’t that exactly what the enemy was doing. They lorded their power over those who could not resist. That was why the Confederacy fought. It was why Gerwald would kill.

The first casualties had not been his own doing, nor had it been from the crash. The wolf had mistaken it for a sudden drop as the ship had lost its flight path, but standing, now, Gerwald could feel the ache which echoed in the force.

So many lives.

Gone.

Snuffed out.

His blue gaze turned to Lunara, he knew she had felt it also. Both would attempt to lighten the mood. Teasing the lupine would always be the default which the sorceress at his side would fall to. Yet, Gerwald could not find the place for it. There was too much about what was happening that reminded him of the atrocities which Taanab had brought. The loss of one life in particular. Since that day, the wolf had vowed that he would not lose others in the same manner. It had caused him to create a barrier that only three since had been able to see past. Two of them were in this conflict.

Only one was within Gerwald’s influence to protect. It was the wrong word most likely, but he was a wolf. He was as protective and possessive as he was predatory.

This was instinct.

“Nicest places… at least you wore the right outfit this time. It will get bloody.”

Gerwald could not have timed the phrase any better as two Mawite warriors moved in to fire upon them. Fortunately for Gerwald he was not the only one present with a sense to protect. The two warriors would find their attack interrupted by Gerwald’s companion, the Skelmorn. It would pounce, it’s baldes tails making quick work to find whatever weak points in the armor it could find. The lupine would add his own attack as the hammer which he had been gifted flew toward the chest of one of the warriors and back to the wolf’s hand when it’s path was complete.

The force spread through the field of battle as the lupine searched for the one controlling the warriors, their commander. Eyes would settle near the elevator once more, watching as the one giving orders seemed to be looking their way. The Mongrel looked like a broken thing, but his presence in the force was overwhelming.

His pace was slow, at first, as the Lord Commander began to step out toward him. If he could keep the man busy, perhaps Lunara could help free the slaves, or stop the supply chain of slaves being sent to the ship above. His words would fall into the woman’s mind.

< “I will keep him busy. Do what you can. Stay safe.” >

She would sense his concern and his care. It was heavy on him, and Lunara would understand why. Gerwald had lost many in his life, and many had fallen in battle. He would not dwell on it, however. Gerwald began to run toward his target. It was time to see what the Mongrel would do.

​

 

[The Mongrel]

Operation Cinder: Ground Battle​

Location: Rhand, Port Sorrow
Allies: Ignatius Rausgeber | Tegan Starfall | Kyrel Ren | Blade Ice | Khamul Kryze | Dakrul | Darth Mori
Foes: Gerwald Lechner | Caltin Vanagor | Rann Thress | Felix Aquila | Corin Autem | Priesse Verena | Ruus Kote | Lunara Azure | Srina Talon | Maple Harte | Ingrid L'lerim | Quinn Varanin

What had begun so slowly, the gradual movement of thousands up that atmospheric elevator while The Mongrel looked on in boredom and anticipation, had suddenly accelerated. Only moments earlier, he'd been able to keep track of everything, from the Eternal Empire forces massing at the gates to the CIS dropships coming in hot to the strange slave-soldier whose knowledge of logistics was keeping the whole Mawite evacuation moving. But now... now he was unsure. The battle had begun in earnest at last, and a thousand things were happening all at once.

So he did not focus on the ritual that darkened the skies above, Dakrul 's unholy sorcery raising the twisted beasts that surged through the narrow streets of Port Sorrow. He did not pay attention as Srina Talon unleashed her dark power, splitting the earth itself in an effort to swallow the abominations whole. He did not take in the various duels erupting all across the spaceport. He focused on one thing, and one thing only: the dropship he'd sent his men to investigate. Because that little mission had gone poorly, and now the space elevator was under immediate threat.

The man who emerged was clad in black and silver, a regal uniform that bespoke his importance among the CIS ranks. Like some hero of myth, he threw his hammer, smashing in the chest of one of the marauders before recalling it to his hand. A Force-mage, then. Typical. They always seemed to worm themselves into positions of authority in every government. Between his weapon - or weapons, as he appeared to have not one but two lightsabers at his sides - and what looked to be heavy armor, he would certainly be a force to be reckoned with even without the Force.

With it, what chance did The Mongrel stand against him?

No matter. The marauder-turned-warlord had stood toe to toe with Jedi and their ilk across a dozen worlds and more. He did not fear death, and thus far he had proven remarkably skilled at evading it, even when grievously injured. If today was his Day of Dying, as foretold by the Heathen Priests for all marauders, he would face it with his head held high. And if it was not, well, that hammer would make a fine trophy indeed. So would the head of that tentacle-dog-thing the CIS warrior had brought with him, the one that had torn apart the other Mawite soldier. Perhaps he'd take both.

The CIS commander spent no time on pleasantries or challenges; he simply charged at The Mongrel. That was refreshing. A Jedi would have taken the time to tell the warlord what an evil person he was, and how he ought to repent and change his ways, which was funny the first few times and very, very tiresome after that. It seemed that this particular foe was more than ready to get right into the fight. And why wouldn't he be? He was colossal, towering over The Mongrel in both height and bulk, outfitted with the best defenses that the wealth of a third of the galaxy could buy.

He probably hadn't faced an actual challenge in years.

That left The Mongrel in a familiar position, one he'd been fighting from since he'd first joined the Maw: hopelessly outmatched in a straight fight. His cybernetic arms might be able to match the power of one of this CIS commander's swings, perhaps enough to block a blow or two of hammer or saber, but the colossal physical power of this beast of a man would surely be bolstered by the Force... an advantage The Mongrel could not possibly counter. But years of fighting in this same situation had taught him much. He was going to have to fight smart in order to survive.

In one hand, The Mongrel drew forth his dread blade, a sort of energy-broadsword powered by a broken kyber crystal. It could stand up to a lightsaber in short bursts, and so it might be enough to see him through this fight. With his other hand, he reached down into his satchel of tricks, devices he had developed over the course of years now for fighting Jedi and other Force-mages. He settled on one that had served him well the last time a magic-wielder had charged him, on the icy plains of Csilla: a monofilament wire launcher. It was perfect against an onrushing foe.

Aiming the launcher, The Mongrel fired it several times in rapid succession... not at Gerwald, but across the Knight Obsidian's path. Tiny, razor-sharp strands of wire, so thin they were all but invisible to the naked eye, were threaded between one of the houses Gerwald's dropship had crushed and one of the pylons of the space elevator. The result: three cutting wires, sharper than a vibroblade and near-undetectable, were strung right in front of where the Knight Obsidian was running. If he barreled along on his current course, he would be diced into neat little chunks.

The Mongrel dropped the launcher back into his satchel, then braced his dread blade with both of his inhumanly-strong cybernetic hands. Jedi and their ilk always seemed to sense danger, and he doubted that his little trick would actually kill Gerwald. It might wound him if the marauder was very lucky, and it might also force him to change course to go around the wire strands, stealing the momentum of his headlong charge. Whatever small advantage it granted might well keep The Mongrel alive for a few seconds more... until he could work out his next survival trick.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Allies: Srina Talon // Taiia Locke
Enemies: Dakrul // Ignatius Rausgeber
Location: Landed on Rhand, Very Near to Port of Sorrow / Space Elevator

The others had walked into the ship, found their seats, and strapped in. Maliphant had followed but didn't find a seat - instead using the Force to hold himself in place; away from the common physics of orbital reentry. His focus instead became the echos of Srina's feelings - just barely distinguishable from his own, but still contrasting with their vivid electric purple to his harsh black.

"Then we disable the elevator. Simple enough.", Maliphant offered back smoothly - a thin smile on his lips.

Yet when the Jackal Pods were released, Maliphant simply slipped from view - from being. His body fell into the void, and when they would seem him next it would be when they landed. The air would ripple, and the Lord Maliphant would appear from the confines of space splitting and tearing to his command. His presence in the Force only became more intoxicating, more wearing; a massive weight from his nature threatening to drown everyone on the planet.

He exhaled slowly, sure of his diaghrams slow contraction, then glanced towards where Srina now kneeled. Pressing her palms to the dirt, commanding the earth to hunger and mold to her will; the soft request for him to assist. With no words, Maliphant moved to her side and pressed the impervium spike of his staff into the dirt - and where her power once stood alone, it would combine to become two.

The power of his Force potential magnified by the will of his staff, added to the already exceptional power of Srina's - forced the Earth to ripple and wave like a port in storm. Cracks breaking open, swallowing creatures as they moved while black waves broke from the dirt nearest them like electricity jumping between arcing poles.

Maliphant waited and watched, letting the strength of his ability be enough of a call that someone may soon hear. At least he hoped - a challenge broadcast to the planet, for someone to face them beyond the unruly masses. Someone for him to teach a moral lesson on why slavery is wrong.

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

LOCATION: The Fortressa
WEARING: Standard Armor
WEAPON: Lightsaber
ALLIES: Srina Talon | Darth Empyrean | Taiia Locke | Kiff Brayde | John Locke | Verin Oldo | Vemric Keldra | Jason Breaker
ENEMIES: Tu'teggacha | Dakrul | Alars Keto | Talon Kyber

Reports came in quickly, as the cold response from Exarch Srina Talon came through the comms. It was to be expected, though the Demon of Thyferra was confident that given time, he could win the Echani over. They would never be friends, they did not need to be as long as they could work together. Everything he had done to gain the position he held, it had simply been business. It was not personal.

The War Room was frantic as the confrontation began. Drop ships had been shot out of the sky. The fleets were already engaging each other, and reports of what was taking place at the temple filled the air. More importantly, Deagon felt what was happening at the temple. Even though he was one to exploit people for gain, the sound of sudden silence through the force still irked him. The Vicelord gripped the edge of the war table as he leaned over it.

He had not felt loss like this since the Sith Wars on Thyferra.

Daegon had to gather his breath, looking for the other exarch, John Locke . He was different from the Echani, a businessman like himself. The Demon could at least reason with this one as he felt Exarch Locke was not as attached to Metus. It was business, afterall.

There was a call from the Lord Commander over the comms. The Space Elevator was being used to shuttle slaves into the ship which had been painted as the primary fleeting target. A long sigh left his lips as the Vicelord rubbed his eyes.

“I should have expected they would do this… hide behind their slaves.”

It was directed to the other Exarch. He had seen war like this before. Daegon had been on Rodia, but that had been personal. This was the first time the man watched it all unfold behind the fleet. Eyes searched for an answer from Locke. How did he do it? How did he handle the pressure. This was different than Siskeen. That had been a negotiation. This enemy was even more coldhearted than the Agents had been.

“There is only one way to deal with this kind isn’t there?”

Whether the question was rhetorical or not would be up to the discretion of the Exarch. The other had left with her lover and another. Daegon would ensure they had all the time they needed, or the fleet would. A blanket order was given to protect them. It was even more important that the skyhook was disabled now.

A flash of light, was seen, then @Srina Talon’s voice came through once more.

“It’s started, Corvinus. They’re already killing them. Make the worldship a priority. If you want us to save any of them we need to move faster—”

<<< “Understood.” >>>

It was then another report came through.

Missiles fired.

“Sir, one of our own seems to be making a run at the ship, including the skyhook. If they take it out…”

Daegon pounded his fist on the table. He knew what that would mean.

“High Marshall Verin Oldo has his fleet in low orbit. If Laertia Io is successful, his fleet is gone.”

Eyes flashed an unworldly red. Daegon was angry and his inner demon was fighting to be free. He could decide this battle, it would be easy. All they had to do was kill everyone, but that was not what needed to happen here. This was meant to be a statement. The Confederacy did not tolerate slavery, and would punish those who practiced it whether home or abroad. They could not make that message by blatantly killing slaves.

<<< “Oldo,” >>> Daegon reached out over comms, <<< “There is a volley of torpedoes heading toward the skyhook. If they hit… your fleet, our ground forces, all of Port Sorrow… they will be wiped out. We cannot allow the slaves or our personnel to be collateral damage in some moral crusade against the Maw. Intercept the missiles anyway you can.” >>>

He punched the comms and reached out to Exarch Talon once more.

<<< “Torpedoes heading for the skyhook. Be careful!” >>>

A wave of his hand called a chair so the Vicelord could sit. His eyes looked back up to Exarch Locke. “Seriously, how in the hell did you keep it together on Taanab?”

 

[Verin Oldo]

Objective: Secure airspace above Port Sorrow | Provide tactical strikes and fighter support for ground troops.

Allies: Jason Breaker | Vemric Keldra | @Kiff Brayde | Daegon Corvinus John Locke Srina Talon

Enemies: Tu'teggacha | Dakrul | Darth Caelitus Ambiguous: Laertia Io


“Fire again.”

The combined might of the Lines was achieving what was necessary. The Miraj-class ships were delivering the pounding that the ground units called in, tactically dropping ordinance on designated targets from below, where the eyes of the combatants could pinpoint with great accuracy where the need was greatest. The explosions that ripped through the nests of emplacements and defences in Port Sorrow would be enough to disrupt even basic functions and operations of military personnel attempting to combat any great number of CIS forces. The assembled taskforce sat in low orbit, precariously placed in the shadow of the so called ‘skyhook’. It towered way above them, like a behemothic sword of Damocles, perilously placed to drop upon them at any time. The Al’raja battlecruiser was placed in higher orbit, some distance from the ships delivering the payloads below. The Grievous-class Star Destroyers too sat in a closer proximity, out of the way of the tactical manoeuvres that the force undertook.

Some 1200 Vulture-droid fighters burst through the air, running sorties along the avenues, and laying down thickets of fire that would bring respite to any cornered ground troops in need of rescue.

Oldo moved along the suspended deck above the main command centre, taking in all the information as it made way to him.

“Reduce sorties to a standard 20-minute interval. Let’s let them show themselves before we hit them again.”

The relay system that allowed for ground elements to coordinate with the allied CIS fleet above them was working without hitch, only minor interference bringing little interruption to their operations. They were fulfilling the mandate asked of them, Oldo thought. It was clockwork operational success. And he was thrilled.

“Contact Lord Marshal Vemric Keldra . Tell him we are coordinating and shadowing their ops. Tell him we are proceeding as planned.”

Oldo sipped his caff. He didn’t normally drink in a combat situation but found this sort of work to be a little calmer than the high stakes pitched battle where fleets clashed. He was assigned to orbital support, maintaining air superiority. It called for a little more leisurely static work. In any case, he mused, a flying mug of hot drink would hardly be the focal point of his ire and concern if they took a direct hit to the bridge. The thousands of tonnes of durasteel and electrical equipment, let alone the deck and super structure itself would be his focus; how not to get mangled inside it.

The Terrus-class frigates in their greater number were doing a stand-up job, patrolling the borders of the battle group, and ensuring that any rogue fighter elements made as little impact on the operations as possible. Their call signals chimed in, ensuring their status reports were up to date as possible in the central system. The commanders of the individual Lines would receive these reports directly, but they were sent up the chain to the Al’raja to process and utilise an enhanced tactical relay that made for easier coordination between multiple elements. Dedicated tactical droid elements would analyse and punch it down the line to the various Wing Commanders, Squadron Leaders and solo Captains of the craft that made up this brilliant task force. The laser blasts chattered down towards the surface, the munitions and bombing-runs continuing a pace.

A klaxon sounded. It was an alert from multiple elements of the CIS armada. Countless alarms and sensors began to activate. Something ominous had occurred. He checked immediately the power relays of the cruiser, seeing they were all operationally sound, save the recurring pounding the heavy gun emplacements were laying down thick.

“Prioritise all Aurek signals. Everything else OFF”

It wasn’t often Oldo lost his cool. The cascading mesh of thundering alarms and bleating instruments was making him unnerved, and he was struggling to concentrate on the words being spoken to him.

He was remembering past engagements. He was remembering the heat of battle. He was remembering Dantooine and Talay and every other major battle where he had witnessed the wholesale destruction of his fleets at the hands of scurrilous enemies.

He listened. He froze.

“Intercept the missiles anyway you can.”

He slammed his hand on the ship-wide comms button.

“Have all fighter elements climb this instant and intercept all munitions headed towards that skyhook!”

The flurry of comms ripped through the relative order of the taskforce, subordinates passing on various commands to various control decks.

One by one, the squadrons and wings of the massed Vulture droid fighters began to race towards the higher atmosphere, rushing to intercept the missile ordinance lobbed at the skyhook. If they could catch these friendly missiles, they might stay enough damage to leave the elevator intact, preventing the calamitous collapse and catastrophic loss of Confederate life below.

They tore through the atmosphere, several hit by stray fire. As they began to open fire on the various targets, large explosions rocked through the swarm, detonating large groups of fighters in sweeping bursts of machinery and fury. The fighters were working overtime to reach the missiles as they poured forth, catching glancing blows on them as they hurtled towards each other, their reckless sacrifice determined to prevent calamity with every ounce of their programming.

Oldo watched the display of the tactical readout and prayed. He didn’t know to who or what or why. But he prayed.

“Ready the taskforce. Evasive manoeuvres NOW!”

Spoiler: FLEET COMPOSITION

ALL SHIELDS CURRENTLY 100%

Air Superiority Line 578

• x1 Victator-class Battlecruiser
  • CNS Al’raja
• x2 Bonteri-class Assault Carriers
  • CNS Fortress
  • CNS Redoubt
• x4 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Havoc
  • CNS Gold
  • CNS Escape
  • CNS Battle
• X6 Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships
  • CNS Siege
  • CNS Ransom
  • CNS Devil
  • CNS Unyielding
  • CNS Gambit’s Fortune
  • CNS Blackwater

Air Superiority Line 579

• x1 Grievous-class Star Destroyer
  • CNS Viceroy
• x2 Bonteri-class Assault Carriers
  • CNS Terror
  • CNS Lessu
• x4 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Theed
  • CNS Malvern
  • CNS Ra’Katha
  • CNS Hotspur
• X6 Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships
  • CNS Commodore
  • CNS Encounter
  • CNS Serendipity
  • CNS Peacemaker
  • CNS Definition
  • CNS Axiom

Air Superiority Line 577

• x1 Grievous-class Star Destroyer
  • CNS Dauntless
• x2 Bonteri-class Assault Carriers
  • CNS Augment
  • CNS Tyber
• x4 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Callous
  • CNS Wren
  • CNS Pursuit
  • CNS Disruption
• X6 Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships
  • CNS Carter
  • CNS Oldo
  • CNS Gita
  • CNS Abbaca
  • CNS Hollander
  • CNS Majista

Spoiler: FLEET ACTIONS

Continued ground operations from the fleet. Received orders to intercept and attack allied missiles intended to bring down the skyhook. Have prepared to begin evasive actions from underneath the large space station.


Of 1200 Vulture-droids, 983 remain in full service. Large casualties sustained from upward ascent and engagement of targets.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Bright cerulean fire wreathed His every step, marking His path through the temple grounds and down into the sullen abyss. There were others at the temple now, both servants of chaos and servants of justice. He cared for neither of them, taking care to avoid crossing their path when He and destroying the undead when they pressed themselves towards Him. The stink of charred meat filled the musty catacombs, the bones of uncounted dead bursting like firecrackers as the heat from His magic roasted the osseous tissue.

Whether the maddening phantasm of Solipsis followed Him down into the darkness was of no concern, all of His power was being bent towards the mysterious purpose for His presence. He moved through the tunnels with the instinct of a Force master, His stride never breaking as He moved from corridor to corridor in the seemingly endless crypt-maze.

"They have forgotten what they once knew," mused the Dark Lord of the Sith to no one but Himself. "It was revered by those who are dead, and the dead keep it." He crouched near a section of the floor, reaching out with gloved fingers to brush against the dusty stone. He seemed to be searching for structural weak points, His fingers moving back and forth along the minute cracks and chips in the worn rock. Then, clenching His fist, He slammed His knuckles into the floor.

The force of the punch reverberated throughout the catacombs, the thick layer of dust and other detritus rising up several centimeters before slowly filtering down. Another shockwave raced through the stone foundation, followed by another, and another. Large cracks began to spider-web across the floor, growing larger every time He thrust his fist into the floor.

Inexorably, He continued to beat down.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Darth Solipsis ​

 

[Kristyl Vaashe]

Location: C.N.S. Asajj Ventress.
Wearing: Kristyl's Training Robes of the Lotus.
Allies: Dreidi Xeraic | Gerwald Lechner

"Kristyl Arenais! You are in so much trouble when I find you!!"
​

Kris knew that sound, the sound of someone calling her by her full name. Typically she got called by her nicknames 'Kris' or 'Kristy'. Only ever when she was in trouble did she get her full name shouted out for all to hear. It wasn't her Mom's voice this time though, but that of her Sisters' Dreidi Xeraic .

"Dreidi??" She responded, calling out atop the sounds of soldiers moving back and forth, going about their business in getting set up at their new landing spot; "Dreidi! Where are you?!" She shouted out again while trying to push her way through the adults around her, many of them wearing clunky armour that made her shoulders hurt as she squeezed her way through one of the groups heading toward the sound of nearby blaster-rifle fire.

"INCOMING!" somebody shouted from nearby. The next minute there was a huge BANG!!! and Kristy found her stomach lurching, her foot no longer on solid ground. It was so fast and yet that distinct feeling seemed to last longer than it should have. Suddenly, her body hurt all over and she was on the ground laid out on her side, shadows of people scrambling to stand up, a couple rushing over to her, mouths moving like they were saying stuff but she couldn't hear any of their words.

She'd never been in such a place before, with so much going on and so much to fear all around her. Kristyl couldn't understand what had happened, but slowly the voices started to sound off again and gradually she was able to make out the words of someone asking if she were okay. Looking around she could see other people laying on the ground, but they weren't moving or getting up like she was. Being helped to her feet, she stood shakily, swaying a little as her head pounded and she felt pretty dizzy but knew she had to act tough as her Sister and Mom would have.

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: CIS & Allies (Ave Lazy)
ENEMIES: BOTM & Allies (Ave Lazy: The Sequel)
ENGAGING: Halketh
GEAR: In Bio.

Oo~LAND OF CONFUSION~oO​

The tension within Dimitri eased.

He was definitely not some freshly minted Force Master. He had been part of the game for a very long time. And there was absolutely nothing in his host that hinted at ill will towards him.

He had not expected outright hostility. Not even when they were flinging high tier Force prowess towards each other, was there outright hostility between the two creatures of carnage. But Dimitri had not expected the brotherly welcome either. He now knew that they would not necessarily come to blows on this lavish ship.

Would not stain the white walls.

Following Kezec into the surprisingly normal parlour, Dimtiri stood in awe at the great viewport.

"Sit please, make yourself comfortable." Caelitus gestured toward the chairs, though he personally made for the cabinets, "I've been told the view is rather exceptional."

Dimitri smiled as he took a seat.
"They are not embellishing. It is quite awe-inspiring, despite the war effort." he answered. There was something about the view that was gnawing at him, but he did not act on it right away.

Not that his host gave him the chance.

"I can sense what The Dragon has been up to as of late," he spoke, turning himself about to lean against the counter with a hip, "but what of Dimitri?"

He should have known. The intimate moment on Bastion all those years ago have given both men glimpses into the other's deepest, darkest recesses. The Dragon was not hidden from this man.
"It has been a difficult few years. Between rebel insurgents into allied territory and refugees spilling into Confederate Borders from the Bryn'adul Crusade, I have been busy. War continuously interferes with my Apprentice's lessons. I hardly ever hang up the armour anymore." he said, turning slightly in his seat to see his host.

With a sigh, he finally decided to kick the door down.

"Tell me about yourself? I find it most curious that, once again, we find ourselves on opposing sides." he started. He did not want to frown upon his old adversary's hospitality, but he had to know."Why bring me here at all, then, Kezec? If you know how honour-bound I am to this endeavour?"

Was he really?

The Snake's candid question reverberated in his mind.

If he was truly that tied to the noble but futile quest of freeing slaves, would he not have been down on the ground rather than here? Or was he here to further their cause on the ground?

Always in circles.

Honour and nature continuously colliding.

 

[Isabella Pavan]

ADJUDICATOR
EXEGOL | UNKNOWN REGIONS
HIGH ADMIRAL NYREE PAVAN ​

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The motto of barbarians, marauders. The will of the Final Dawn. An end to the relentless, undying path the galaxy had paved for itself, a pursuit of suicide. Nyree Pavan decried it long ago, beneath the glaring gaze of the hierarchy of the Galactic Empire, and before them the Imperial Remenat, and even before them the One Sith. It had to end. Order had to be restored.

So she would end it.

A nod confirmed her interest in the first set of provisional scans provided by the Praetorian Destroyers beneath the jagged boot of the Taskmaster Tu'teggacha , a suspicion of Confederate might correctly rooted in underlying strategy. Three dreadnoughts, multiple battlecruisers, and dozens of Star Destroyer sized warships. Overkill to end a pathetic party of cultistic marauders, yes? Identification of the three dreadnoughts confirmed the leadership as well, with the most probable Confederates leading the naval charge being the Exarch John Locke , the Minister Kiff Brayde and potentially the Grand Marshal Vemric Keldra. The presence of the Asajj Ventress would prove to be most unfortunate.

All of them, experienced leaders. None of them aware of the intelligence the Final Dawn had upon them. The mantra of suffering another Empire to live had failed them. They would makers of their destiny, the pride of their democracy. disatisfaction was at an all time high in the Outer Rim, and growing rumors of shadow Sith regimes only enhanced the public image of Final Dawn aligned political groups and paramilitary organizations Vicelord Corvinus had proved himself to be a valuable ally- even if he wasn't aware of his involvement.

"Exiting hyperspace"

"Secondary warships are to engage the enemy forces" She ordered, even as the bliding, twisted lights of hyperspace morphed into the familiar black and white peppered starscape of realspace. Tinges of atmosphere were visible from the Adjudicator's viewports, a side effect of jumping so close to a plantery body, as dangerous and potentially fatal as that was. Thankfully, with the addition of abnormal hyperspace technology and the molding of a loyal Chiss Navigator by the Overseers of the Holy City, fatalities were avoided. "The primary Task Force is to prepare to begin Base Delta Zero procedures"

"With zero prejudice. Inform the remaining operators on the Skyhook to evacuate immediately ( Ignatius Rausgeber )"

The entire planet of Rhand would be reduced to molten slag, glassed into oblivion once the order was given. Nyree grinned with horrific satisfaction as the thought crossed her mind, the thought of killing an entire world for the Final Dawn something she'd do without .

Elsewhere, the remainder of the free Final Dawn force engaged the Confederate's openly, perhaps even shifting the tide of the battle....

ATTN CIS: Vemric Keldra | Kiff Brayde | Daegon Corvinus | John Locke | Jason Breaker | Verin Oldo | THOSE I MISSED, SORRY! | ATTN BOTM: Tu'teggacha (Feel free to use Final Dawn forces brought by Nyree) Talon Kyber | @Kyrll | Marlon Sularen | Halketh
​

Spoiler

Tyrant - Sovereign Class - Group Two
Adjudicator - Sovereign Class - Group One
6 Praetorian Class Star Destroyers - Evenly Dispersed Amongst Taskforces
8 Supremacy Class Star Destroyers - 6 Group One, Two Group Two
20 Autarch Class Star Destroyers - Evenly Dispersed Amongst Taskforces
Many Frigates - Evenly Dispersed Amongst Taskforces
Many Corvettes - Evenly Dispersed Amongst Taskforces
Many Cruisers - Evenly Dispersed Amongst Taskforces
TIE/ad Fighters
TIE/ad Interceptors

Group One has begun Base Delta Zero, Targeting Rhand. Group Two has engaged the Confederate fleets

 

[Ruus Kote]

​

Friendly Units:​

• 5 squadrons of Busayr-class Heavy Assault Transports
  • Ferrying:
    • Strill Securities Jurkad Verde Shere'shoy Mechanized Infantry Battlation (two companies actively engaging, two in reserve)
    • Strill Securities Jurkad Verde Kad b' Marev Armored Battalion (one company actively engaging, three in reserve)
    • Ruus Kote's HQ Company (actively engaging)
• 5 squadrons of Kyr'galaar-class Multi-role Fighters
• 5 squadrons of Jai'galaar-class Fighter-bombers

Ally Tag(s):​

• CIS | Lunara Azure | Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | Darth Empyrean | Taiia Locke | Kristyl Arenais | Dreidi Xeraic | Rann Thress

Enemy Tag(s):​

• BotM | The Mongrel | Dakrul | Anja Doreva (Samron Gerron)

​

​

Spoiler: Equipment

​

• Armor:​
  • 'Verd'jurkad'gam'
    • 'Ysalamiri Birikad' Nutrient Frame
    • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
    • PC-05V Plasma Caster
    • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
    • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
      • Surveillance Tagger Darts (2)
      • Electro Darts (2)
      • Explosive Darts (4)
• Weapons:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • M-06S 'Skirata' Mra'jitr (2)
  • RP-05A Ripper Pistol w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Short Range Optic
  • AR-2CQB Verpine Assault Rifle w/ UGL-02 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher and 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Medium Range Optic
• Explosives:
  • 3x CryoBan Grenades
  • 3x NOVA40 Plasma Grenade
  • 2x Smoke Grenades
  • 2x Class-A Thermal Detonator
  • 2x Det-Packs
  • Implants:
    • 'Verd' Enhancement Package
    • 'Gar Tkiriyr' Neural Interface

Ysalamiri Birikad have been issued force wide.

Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal
Verbor'ad ures aliit
Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se
Kote lo'shebs'ul narit.
​

Ke'gyce 6, Ruus Kote, rolling on toward primary objective at Port Sorrow

They were moving in earnest now. The treads of their convoy kicked up dust as they pushed on toward their objective. Ruus glanced at the tac display, armored gauntlet rapping a stacatto beat on his helmet as he hoped in vain that the myriad AA defenses would be knocked out sometime this year. Though he could see their fighters currently trying to keep the Maw's pieces of junk occupied on the tac display. Osik, he'd have to see what he could do about that himself. He manipulated the tac display so it was showing Port Sorrow from his approach vector and he saw Ket Cros 's squad marker making a break for the shuttle. The comms transmission came in shortly afterward.

That was rammikad for you. Ket's ade weren't under his command. He could suggest what he'd like them to do, but they were technically here to do what Vornskr Mirshir-Jurkad Rammikade did best, and that was clear a shabla path. This highly unorthodox by aruetii standards, decentralized style of command, only worked if everyone pulled their shabla weight, but that was never a question with their rammikade. "Acknowledged, Wisp 88. Find the survivors and see if you can't find us some good targets for our guns. If you can't, don't need to tell you to become an absolute pain in their shebs." Ruus then switched frequencies so he could raise the entire formation, "Ke'gyce 6 to Marev Besh 6. We're going to finish what our situyr started. Tracyr mav, not another dropship goes down!"

Ruus watched on the tac map as firing solutions were calculated for the two armored company's main guns as they advanced toward their objective. It was a maybe a scant moment or three longer than usual. They had to get it shabla right. The objective was a shabla mess of friendlies and hostiles all far too close to each other for comfort. No one wanted a repeat of Rodia. "Solus t'ad, lek, Ghes," he said after switching to the tank's intercom with a pair of quick blinks. The other gunners according to the Manda'a display were following the same strategy, and Ghes was the best gunner in the battalion, but at a time like this it paid to be sure.

Ghes understood this as he replied with a composed, even, "'Lek, alor." Ruus could see Ghes' firing solution on the tac display as well. The flash of Class-D disruptors and mass-drivers going off lit the formation up even in the daylight. Those tanks with mass-drivers fired off a timed sequential strike of an Ion-Detonator and then a HEAT-FS round from their RHM-04 and RHM-05 repeating heavy mass-driver cannons respectively. Ruus's fingers kept beat with the cannons on the armrest of his seat as the convoy opened fire at the various AAA defences and continued their advance. The Manda interface was a little slow to update with the destruction of the guns, but there was no one close enough yet for an accurate reading on whether the guns were merely hampered or destroyed, or whether they were about to drop down and rain fire on his column.

They were going to be outside the guns' minimum targeting range for a while, and when they weren't, they were going to be in the thick of the various ramshackle osik'la kadtape structures around Port Sorrow. In the meanwhile, seeing as their fighters were otherwise occupied, the tanks continued their fire into the AAA batteries. The IFVs didn't however, need to be told twice to open fire, and Marev Besh 6's tanks as well as his own all continued to pour fire into any other Maw forces with their secondary weapons. His force maintained it's nigh-on inexorable advance, making the Maw pay for every meter their infantry portable weapons were out of range to hit his tanks and IFVs.

It wasn't long, however, till they began to hit the edge of the massive shanty town that surrounded Port Sorrow. Urban environments were the worst places to bring tanks. Even here, where the buildings weren't particularly tall, and his vehicles were equipped with one of the best soft-kill and hard-kill active protection systems on the market, it still wasn't a great idea. Disembarking before they were right on the main superstructure however was asking to get dragged into a long, drawn out firefight in unfamiliar terrain. They just didn't have the shabla time for that osik. It was time to let Aamer's tanks live up to their name, it was time to let them truly become that kadtape shabuir Kad Ha'rangir's hammer.

"Ke'gyce 6 to all callsigns, keep your heads on a swivel. Who knows what the chaav'la shabuire have waiting for us. Shereshoy 6, let's let the Nuhaatyc beskar'ad do their jobs instead of blundering in like di'kute," he ordered, watching the main displays on his own command tank, watching and waiting. It was the moments till before the enemy made contact that were always the worst. It was in those moments that your mind always told you that the enemy had the round, had the rocket with your name on it. No matter how many years of combat service, that paranoia was always there. It was good, focused correctly, it kept you alive. Ruus knew that. So he made sure he kept that shabuir on a tight leash, like an unruly Strill.

The display changed as the various tanks changed their loaded rounds from Ion-Detonator and HEAT-FS to HE-Frag-FS to deal with any Maw infantry that decided to try and ambush them. Mirta's Trataab'morut IFV's unleashed their Nuhaatyc droids. On the external cameras, they flickered and shimmered into the air as their optical camouflage suites came to life, replaced by an icon representing their encrypted IFF signal replacing them on the tank's composite sensor output display.

It was a tense few moments as the convoy rolled through. Quiet. Too quiet. Displays panned and pintle guns matched them as gunners were on the constant lookout for when the ambush they were all expecting was coming. They'd all served too long to not expect it. What he was not expecting was for the resolution of a faint sensor return to be what clued him to it. One of the Nuhaatyc droids had picked up a weapons signature up ahead. He was half expecting the droid to be cautious about some di'kute with a dime a dozen rocket launcher, but when the recognition database instantly recognized it as one of their own, Ruus jaw went slack and he sighed involuntarily, "Shab."

And then things went to haran. The display went off like a life day fireworks celebration. Contacts everywhere. Moving quick. They weren't big, maybe man-sized or smaller, but shab were they quick. "Contacts!" called Mirta over the comms. "They're coming out of the shabla ground!" The all too recognizable sound of weapons fire was heard over the comms. "Tracyr mav! Tracyr mav!" Some of the tanks were turning turrets and hulls to support Mirta's IFVs in the rear, who were taking the brunt of the attack. It was only then that Ruus actually got a good look at what was attacking them, and he really wished he hadn't, because it sure as haran didn't help.

Just as he was about to issue the order to dismount and deal with the little critters, the comm went off. Ruus sighed, blinking through his HUD display and waving through the hybrid motion-haptic interface. He hoped it was someone he could tell to usen'ye and go back to dealing with the little shabuire from haran, but the transponder ID code quickly resolved itself as none other than Exarch Srina Talon 's. He instantly picked up, and on hearing her CAS request, responded with, "I'll re-task the lead squadron and forward their comms details, Exarch Talon."

Taking a breath to steady his thoughts, he switched frequencies back to the command frequency and barked, "Ke'gyce 6 to Shereshoy 6, sit tight. We'll deal with those shabuir! Marev Besh 6, let's put those HE airburst rounds to good use! Send those shabuir'ika back to haran!" The answer was the sound of an HE-Frag-FS round detonating over the flank of one of the Trataab'morut IFVs. The tunqstoid rounds didn't have the mass and velocity to do significant damage to the vehicle's shields and armor, but by the Manda they were mincing the little spider things. Ruus finally had enough respite to make two more calls, "Ke'gyce 6 to Wisp 88 ( Ket Cros ). Exarch Talon is on the ground. I don't think it'd hurt the contract if you lent a hand." Quickly switching freqs to raise Asmulr 1-1, he let out another sigh as he realized that at this rate he was going to end up owing Namor more drinks than his paycheck would allow. At least this time it wasn't for him.
​

Asmulr 1-1, Namor Netra, Asmulr Jai'galaar squadron
Performing CAS Tasking at Exarch Srina Talon 's request

Namor yanked the Jai'galaar to the right of an exploding Maw fighter who found out the hard way that the massive rotary mass-driver mounted off center wasn't just for show. Debris bounced off his abused shielding, raising an audible alert from the craft's computers. Seeing another Maw fighter, he blinked at the craft's representation on his HUD and locked one of his precious limited Tra'beviin Brilliant Baradium missiles and fired, but was rewarded with a fantastic fireworks display that usually only baradium explosions could produce.

An angry red heavy turbolaser bolt flew past the cockpit, cutting short his brief celebration. There were just too many Maw fighters for them to get a clean shot on the groundside guns without getting shot to haran by both. His comms unit going off provided the momentary distraction to his problems, but on seeing who it was, he had a feeling that he was about to have a whole new set of problems. One of these days, he was going to make that di'kute get him those drinks he owed him, and after this osik, he absolutely needed each and every one of them. "Ruu'ika, I'm a little busy. Can't you drown whatever's bothering you in shells and call me when you have a real problem?"

A dry, heaving cough of a laugh preceded Ruus' answer, "Listen here you cheeky chaakare, Exarch Talon's requested a CAS run at her position. So when you're done playing with your chaav'la chaakare friends, mind making sure her report doesn't have the words "incompetent contractors" in it?" Namor taught another Maw pilot trying to go head on with him the error of his overeager, overzealous ways. He unconsciously tossed his head ever so slightly to one side in concession. Ruus had a good point this time, and this time it wasn't him being snarky when he was the one saving his shebs like on Kayrii.

"When you put it that way you old di'kut, how can I argue," he snapped as he swung the fighter around in the direction of Exarch Talon's transponder code. His console beeped as the Exarch's comm unit codes transferred to the ship's comm systems via the Manda battlenet link. "Asmulr 1-1 to all Asmulr callsigns, we have priority CAS tasking on an Exarch's orders. Time to earn some bonus pay!" Another heavy turbolaser bolt streaked past. Either the Maw gunners were actually getting better or their targeting suites had finally figured out how to compensate for the jamming enough. Either way, he wasn't planning on staying still long enough to find out.

Forming up on his lead, Asmulr squadron accelerated to attack velocity. His scanner lit up with the number of contacts in the AO as he lined up his attack run. Not wanting another repeat of Rodia, he quickly raised the Exarch, "Exarch Srina Talon , this is Asmulr 1-1 on CAS tasking as requested. We are on target and have your position fixed. Please try not to make any sudden moves." Another few blinks and the four mass-driver rocket pods in his craft's fuselage lowered down. His targeting suite quickly synced with the Manda and the latter created the best possible firing matrix for him. Namor didn't even get a good look at what he was shooting at given how small and fast they were, but he knew he wasn't going to be hitting any friendlies as the four Jai'galaar of Asmulr squadron screamed past one by one, spraying high explosive incendiary armor piercing rounds from their rotary mass-drivers and incendiary plasma rockets from their rocket pods.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Glass the place
Brotherhood: Isabella Pavan | The Mongrel | Tu'teggacha | Talon Kyber | Alars Keto | Marlon Sularen | Halketh
CIS: Vemric Keldra | Kiff Brayde | Daegon Corvinus | John Locke | Jason Breaker | Verin Oldo
And tags to anyone else on the planet
Fleet

Spoiler

2 Praetorian Star Destroyers
3 Supermacy Star Destroyers
13 Autarch Star Destroyers
Many CR-90 Corvettes
Darkshear Fighters
Divine Fighters

Long had they waited in the shadows, watching and preparing for the call to sound. Battle had raged and they had only watched, waiting to leap forth and spring a trap the Sorcerers of Rhand and the Dark Voice had suspected would be needed. They had known the CIS would come thanks to premonitions, so what better way to brush aside a nuisance than shatter its leaders. Thus a plan had been drawn up and now it was time to enact it. When the signal was sent, Zachariel's fleet had deployed immediately, alongside other forces allied or part of the Maw. The fleet he now commanded was impressive, far moreso than the simple one had had deployed around Osseriton. Perhaps he'd even keep it, should it fulfill its purpose in full.

Now though, now Zachariel leaned forward in his command throne, thoughts of the future forgotten in favor of the present. Instead, his mind was entirely occupied with bloodlust and eagerness to see this plan fulfilled. They emerged from hyperspace with a scream, reality tearing as they dropped out with the fleet of Nyree. Ship shuddering under the sudden attack of gravity, Zachariel growled as he gaze across the command screen. While they had the same hyperspace technology as the rest of the fleet, they didn't have the luxury of a Chiss navigator for everyone. The ones trained in their stead were close seconds, but that left some room for error. In this case, the error was a fatal one, as Zachariel saw three ships of his fleet burn in the atmosphere of Rhand. One was a Supremacy Star Destroyer, while the other two were Autarchs. Of those two Autarchs, one of them broke apart immediately, rubble falling to the planet below, while the other two Star Destroyers were almost entirely ablaze by the sudden increase of oxygen.

"Open a channel to those two ships." Zachariel's snarl broke the shock, even as the crew rushed about to set to work. As the channel opened, Zachariel heard some screaming and the groans of some still living officers. "You have failed in your primary mission, but you will not be useless to me. Either ram your ships into the plan as part of this glassing, or use them to shield the fleet from further fire. Officers of the Final Dawn and Brotherhood, you know your orders. See them fulfilled."

There were some ragged aye sirs from those officers, before the line was cut for good. Slowly but steadily the Autarch and Supremacy Star Destroyers drifted towards the planet. Once they crashed into the surface, they would create dust storms of enviable size, and turn large swathes of the planet to slag. Right before said locations were slagged twice over by the remaining ships of Zachariel's fleet. Sneering as he watched the ships draft slowly to the planet, Zachariel turned his attention to the rest of the fleet and the space battle occurring above the planet. They were across the planet, but soon they'd be right in the thick of it all.
"All flight officers, deploy fighter screens and move to intercept any ship leaving the surface. All Star Destroyers, prepare to commence Base Delta Zero operations. This planet will be glass by the time we are finished."

More aye sir's and aye mi'lord resounded, though this time by officers who yet fully lived. They were also far more energetic, seeking vengeance and the death of their foes. Leaned forward in his command throne, Zachariel's own mad grin was hidden by his skull helm, but he still grinned. This planet and these attackers would soon be dead, he had every reason to smile. Quietly, he whispered to himself as weapon notifications began turning green with readiness.
"Let it all burn."

 

[Laertia Io]

Xiphos cursed mentally, fists clenching. She wished she could swear out loud, but doing so would cause indescribable pain to her throat, and she was already fighting the urge to scream from the trauma of unknowingly letting the Butcher of her parents take her virginity.

Mother, The CIS forces are intercepting the Torpedo volley. The Leviathan transmitted.

I know... Xiphos grumbled mentally.

New calculations entered based on recent scans. Too many of our forces would be killed were the Skyhook destroyed, including Maple and Vera.

Xiphos was given pause at that. Damn. She was still new to this whole 'fleeting' bullchit. She wished she could just hack them all to death.

Cease Bombardment of Skyhook. They made their point with the Droid sacrifice. Concentrate fire on the Space Station.

As you wish, Mother.

The Leviathan of Sev Tok ceased fire on the Elevator and resumed full fire and bombardment of the Station...

Send out a transmission. Tell em' it was a temporary malfunction with the targeting computer...

Think they'll buy it? The Leviathan of Sev Tok asked.

Who gives a feth if they actually buy that line of bullchit or not? I don't. Point is, it's juuuuussst plausible enough to be valid.

The Leviathan of Sev Tok sent out an encrypted burst transmission to the relevant forces under control of Verin Oldo and Daegon Corvinus :

TARGETING DATA ERROR: ENERGY TORPEDOES MEANT FOR ENEMY SPACE STATION, NOT SPACE ELEVATOR. COMPUTER ERROR CORRECTED.

HAVE A NICE DAY.

Okay, in all fairness, the Leviathan's A.I was really a Model 1 brain hooked to a BRT Supercomputer. It couldn't help but be a teensy bit smartass.

Message Sent. Alert. Damaged Star Destroyers falling to the surface.

Xiphos was shown the data scans in her mind.

Chit.

Is the Array fully charged?

Yes, Mother.

Xiphos went even quieter. The Station might still get away, even with the constant bombardment by Energy Torpedo. But those falling Destroyers would still heavily damage the Planet. It might kill Maple.

Maple was one of her last remaining friends.

Target those Star Destroyers drifting towards the planet.

We have a shooting solution for both at this range, but if we are to fire it must be in the next few minutes. The Leviathan advised.

Send out another transmission... request permission to fire on falling Destroyers.

The transmission was sent out after to not just the first two contacted, but Jason Breaker also.

REQUEST CLEARANCE TO FIRE ON DAMAGED DESTROYERS FALLING TO PLANET.

If there was no reply in the next minute, Xiphos would fire...

 

[Halketh]

O M N I S C I E N T
S A I N T E D
Dark Lord of the Sith
Aboard the RCB "PROPHET"
Dimitri Voltura

​

The soft whistle of the kettle drew his attention away as Dimitri spoke, though he still nodded and hummed here and there, acknowledging what was being said in good faith to his question. "It seems the galaxy lives and breathes conquest, it knows little else." He offered as he arranged both the kettle, two cups, and saucers on a small tray and picked it up, gliding with it to the table situated between the chairs. The Dark Lord poured his guest's tea first, steadying his hands long enough to accomplish it without splashing or overflow. "From my understanding, the Confederates have been somewhat busy as you said, though they've mostly stayed far from The Second Great Hyperspace War," he smirked some, head canting to the right, blindfolded face angled toward the window rather than the man beside him, "and this, I suppose is their first venture into it."

Scarred fingers lofted the porcelain cup he held to his lips, where he rather childishly blew across the surface before taking a tentative sip. It was a spicy black tea, much to his delight. A soft 'mew' to this left saw him reach down blindly, and his lanky, three-legged cat hobbled between the legs of the table, pressing his tawny head into the Dark Lord's fingers. Solare. He said nothing then, retreating to considerations as the bitterness of the tea splashed his tongue.

"Why bring me here at all, then, Kezec? If you know how honour-bound I am to this endeavour?"

The question seemed to bring him back, and at last, his head twisted, fixing his focus squarely on the Sith Lord. "Were it honor that brought you to this conflict, you would not have accepted my invitation." He stated plainly, quirking a sharp brow over the embellished crimson wrapped about his features, "You've been deceived, Dimitri, by none but yourself if you still believe that power within you is separate from who you are." He went for the throat with that assessment, though it was offered with empathy, "I used to think much the same of myself, you know. Ages ago, it feels like now, this power-" he interrupted himself briefly to tap a ringed finger against the breadth of his chest, "saw me groomed and coached into hiding it. By the very people who feared it the most. I was misled until I myself believed it was a curse."

"But I, at last, found myself amongst those who saw it for what it was, saw me for what I was, rather. I haven't felt such peace in decades." Back to the window, he focused, almost as if he was waiting for something despite his lack of vision, "There is no greater treason to oneself than to lie about who you are. Dragon. Man. Monster. It matters not, compartmentalizing and separating them is no means to achieve peace, no means to find relief, and certainly no path toward keeping your mind and heart both intact. I know you to be something of a righteous, poetic man, I feel as though your worry lies in losing yourself when you've done naught but lie to yourself for decades now. It's obvious, I can feel the conflict within you, churning, restless, it's torture. Needless torture, at that. You've done naught but exist, a crime undeserving of torment."

The cat leapt up onto the Dark Lord's lap, padding around to make himself comfortable among the arrangements of cloth, and absently, Caelitus trailed his fingers down the creature's spine.

"I brought you here to spare you of the carnage beneath, not because I worry for your future, but rather your tangible safety." Candid, at the very least, "Not only that, but I would offer you a chance to stop lying to yourself, not for her sake, not for your allies' sakes, but for your sake, Voltura. I've a home for you, people who would welcome you, and no longer would you have to hide the ghosts of your past that weigh on your shoulders." His brows pinched together, creasing his blindfold, "It pains me to see a kindred soul suffer so; to suffer as I have."

The creaking of the door behind them was enough to tip Caelitus's head back, as was the rapid tap of approaching boots. A zabrak woman clad in white uniform dipped down, whispering to the Dark Lord. Whatever news she brought was enough to string a smile across his lips. "Very good, prepare to fire, then. Extract Kyrel Ren and ready the primary cannon." He spoke, shifting in his seat to rest an ankle along the top of the opposite knee, much to the annoyance of Sol.

"As you command, Dark Lord." Amarth nodded, glancing at Dimitri briefly before she scurried off.

"Consider what I've spoken of, at the very least."

Beneath the pair's boots and reverberating up through the furniture, the ship groaned with malicious intent- cannons nestled beneath the bow repositioning to take aim from their position. Suddenly, the view made much more sense. The china upon the tray before them rattled, as did the chandelier above, and the dishes in the cabinets, with the charging thrum of The Prophet's most lethal air to surface weapon; a superlaser. Power was redirected into the crystals lining the maw of the barrel. Defenses deployed preemptively around the vessel, sealing it beneath its ironclad shields- knowing full well the charge of the superlaser would be more than enough for enemy ships to detect them at last.

From the belly of the beast, a transport dropped, rocketing from orbit through the atmosphere with aim set on the last known coordinates of the Master of Ren. Kyrel Ren would not be left stranded to suffer death once more, not whilst The Divine had the means to grant him aid.

"Their claimed righteousness is their undoing," he sighed, sipping from his cup once more, "they focused so hard on the bait they failed to recognize the trap." Placing the cup aside, he leaned onto the left armrest, pressing his chin into the palm of his supportive hand, where fingers busied themselves tracing the shape of his mustache, "It was never about the slaves; it was about sending a message."

​

​

OOC NOTE: Superlaser is charging up.
​

 

[Aldo Garrick]

R E B I R T H

Operation: CINDER
Resurrection-Class Battlecruiser: Magnus​

They came to free slaves, they came to avenge their Sith, they came.. to die.

The Confederacy of Independent Systems all too well rushed in guns blazing, throwing weight behind their vast numbers and amassed naval assets without recollection or forethought. They spent months planning their operation, months wasted in pursuit of formulating a plan to break the MAW.

They had little idea they would fall into a trap..

Gehinnom, the Skyhook, the Port. All distractions, key locations to gather the enemy number as the Brotherhood’s navy emerged into real space, assets of the Final Dawn soared out from the abyss behind the flagship of the Sith Cultist. Admiral Aldo Garrick had waited for these orders for sometime, patiently sitting outside the system waiting for Operation: Cinder.

With the majority of slaves loaded up, a signal had been sent out amongst the naval commanders as the Dark Lord took command onboard the ‘Prophet’. They would leave no stone unturned, they would hit the enemy hard and leave scorched earth where their ground forces still waged war. Their invasion would be robbed from them, the harsh reality of the Brotherhood would become known.

“Scramble our fighters to engage the enemy. Assault their shield generators and cripple their support craft. I want all Orbital Autocannons primed and ready.. fire on Rhand. Base. Delta. Zero.”

The Neo-Imperial scowled softly as he looked out into the beyond, past the viewpoint on the bridge at the battle that would begin in earnest.

“Spider Cruisers, latch onto the nearest Confederate Dreadnought and begin hammering away at close range. Beware their capital weaponry. World Devastators begin trajectory to engage and collect material for the coming campaign. Waste no resources, the Confederate weapons will be very useful in the Core Worlds campaign.”

Kiff Brayde | Jason Breaker​

Spoiler

Aldo’s Fleet Composition:

Spoiler

Resurrection-Class “Magnus”
Praetorian-Class “Bane”
Praetorian-Class “Sissiri”
WS-1 World Devastator “Carrion Field”
WS-1 World Devastator “Calypso”
MAW Spider Cruiser “Hopeless”
MAW Spider Cruiser “Relentless”

 

[Kyyrk]

Location: The Grand Bone Temple
Allies: Jhira Mereel || Diocletian Kahmen’’a || Vyse de Valorous || Zlova Rue
Opposition: Dakrul || Darth Senthral || Darth Tennacus || Bendak Crail || Jaedec Ren || Adaz
Equipment: Armor, Lightsaber, Sidearm, Horace

Kyyrk paused, turning to look at Jhira. Can they see us? Kyyrk nodded once. "Safest to assume they can. Even if they must stoop to such rudimentary measures." He paused, turning to acknowledge the Squire that had joined them. Though his features were unfamiliar to Kyyrk, a name planted itself within his mind. Vyse. Kyyrk nodded in recognition. "Blades are always helpful, Squire Vyse." Kyyrk turned back to the two Wraiths that had manifest themselves at the doorway to the large chamber. Not quite their target. But it was close. And if the worst were to happen? It was close enough. His blade was held at the ready. "We read you, Zlova. Nothing down here but us and the dead."

Kyyrk's demeanor had changed. Yes, the darkness was oppressive. But here? He seemed to draw a certain strength from it. Surrounded on all sides, with waves of death and destruction feeding in to him? He drew no strength from it. But he was...comfortable with it. He was a man of war. And war was where he found himself. The pure white blade pulled close to his face as he prepared to engage the ghostly beings. Kyyrk stepped forward and his blade spun into action. The shambling dead between them lurched forward, reaching, clawing for any purchase they could find. But there was something in the back of Kyyrk's mind. Something that preoccupied him. As his blade spun too and fro, he tried to place a finger on the pulse.

Kyyrk's blaster found its way to his other hand. A shot here, a cleave there. He would seek entrance to the room. Nothing could stop him. The lightning, ever present along the length of his blade, crackled and snapped, discharging into first one zombie, then another, and another. Each time the blade struck, another shock of lightning arced from the blade. No longer was this a man unsure of himself, nor the future he could posses. No longer was this a man consumed by the guilt of Csilla's destruction. This was a man of War. And once again, he had been returned to his element. The light shone brightly in the dark corridors. In fact, it almost seemed as though his blade glowed with an intensity that Lightsabers typically did not posses. Or maybe it was just a figment of their imaginations. But still, there was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong...

 

[Darth Senthral]

​

Darth Senthral​

Occupation: Sith Apprentice under Darth Tennacus
Objective: Operation Cinder, go time
Location: Deep inside the Gehinnom. Boarding the Pilgrim
Weaponry: Double Bladed Crimson Lightsaber, the Dark Side, and trusty DL-22 Blaster Pistol
Enemy Tags: Kyyrk Jhira Mereel Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Ally Tags: Dakrul Darth Tennacus​

If ever there was a time to join the battle it were now. Darth Senthral did not even see reason to tell Dakrul they were leaving the Gehinnom. They had served their part there, and he probably already knew of their lust to see battle anyways. "Master Tennacus. You set up zombies in the temple? I say we do a bombing run on it in the Pilgrim. Show them we've no need of it. I'd hate to destroy any Sith Artifacts in there, but our fellow Mawites are fools if they left them there anyways."

He did not take particular joy in being harshly worded towards their brethren, but it was true. The World? It might as well be floating rocks by tomorrow. No chance the Bone Temple would survive. More so, it was a provocation, the enemy was centered there. They knew this, they had set up ghouls and creatures made by Dakrul to ensure this in a way.

The direct plan was never to bomb the Temple, but now it seemed the only thing Senthral and Tennacus could do to contribute. Not that this plan wasn't above them in many ways from the start. No matter, they saw Dakrul at work, and just that gave them some knowledge. If not all too much. What was possible with the Dark Side of the Force. What it's research entailed.

There they were now, before the Pilgrim. "Well then. Let's go let loose shall we? After that we can see what to do from there. I'm sure the next move will make itself apparance in the chaos of this first. That is. If you approve? I do not know how to pilot the Pilgrim. I cannot feign ignorance to you my Master."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Port Sorrow
Allies: Halketh Bendak Crail Jaedec Ren
Enemies: Prennis Keeoli
Objective: Extraction Zone

The doors breached, the walking dead started to stream out, as Kyrel watched the transport only seem to spin about. His saber returned to his hand. The dead attracted by the noise continued to come slowly in droves. As the Master of the Knights of Ren stood forth towards the wreck of the transport. His saber still ignited as if ready to come down upon his foe. Ready to crush all that was in his path, and what better way to do then with the creations that surrounded him. They stumbled and limped along. A sharp hiss and groan were given here and there. Not one to keep quiet. Kyrel closed his eyes as if listening to the dead's cries as if a comforting lullaby. The sound of music in this universe was death itself. Kyrel was the personification of Death and Rebirth. The galaxy in time would experience the pain of death and the joy of rebirth. He spoke a mantra to himself that for a time he only spoke to Jaedec who understood his grand design. "We walk in darkness, we are free. We bathe in blood, we are free. We love nothing, we are free. We fear nothing, we are free. We need no words, we are free. We embrace all death, we are free."

As the words were spoken the black goo that came from the mouths of the dead spewed out. They began to reach out all around the downed transport. The primative banging only caused more of the hungry dead to quickly follow behind. Kyrel never felt such peace then being surrounded by the dead. Unaffected and invisible to them as more began to fill the platform. They had begun to even surround the transport. Climbing over each other to reach the opening in the cockpit. If it wasn't open already they began to bash into it. The sound of glass breaking only causing more to climb over the other. Kyrel did not lead them, after all these beings were hungry. Many of them would gladly die if they could only get one morsel of flesh.

His moment of solace was interrupted when he looked to the sky. A transport started to descend towards one of the last remaining landing pads open to him. He reacted his saber moving in an offensive stance. Until the door opened to reveal familiar faces. Kyrel stared at the men that greeted him upon opening the door. "What is the meaning of this?" Kyrel asked none too pleased with the arrival of Mawite transport. One of them spoke. "Lord Kyrel, It is imperative that you are extracted from the Port at once... The final stages of the plan is being put into motion." Kyrel said nothing, contemplating on killing them. Yet if they came to get him out of the combat zone then it meant that a certain doom awaited this world. He lowered his blade, a smirk coming to his lips. "As you wish, get us the hell out of here then. I'll notify the Knights to return for extraction before the fireworks happen."

With that Kyrel slowly walk towards the transport continuing the mantra as before. "We are nothing, we are free. This is the End of the World, we are the end of the world." He finished as if a wicked prayer to bless the unholy world with the divine fire that would soon follow. Kyrel took one last look upon the hordes of the dead desperately trying to bang on the transport to get whatever flesh was inside. Before the door closed and the Ren was enveloped in darkness. With his telepathic link to the Ren he spoke once more. Knights! Return to me, the plan is entering into it's final stages of completion if you wish to serve. You will find the nearest Maw transport and get off this world at once. This is my will." His tone was icy, and unforgiven. Leaving the choice up to his Knights on what they would do next.

 

[Bendak Crail]

Location: Outside of Bone Temple
Allies: Kyrel Ren , Adaz , Jaedec Ren Dakrul
Enemies: Kyyrk Jhira Mereel Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Objective: Evacuate, Operation Cinder
Equipment: Ren Armor, Lightsaber


Bendak's speeder started to slow as soon as he saw the raiders within his path. From what it looked it was Pathfinders, perhaps even Storms. Not wanting to kill the Maw's own troops he pushed hard on slowly stopping the momentum. Jaedec followed not far behind. Something was strange, he couldn't describe it. But the radiance in the Force felt different. As if mere seconds it all shifted. Something was going on, be it good or bad he wasn't sure. When he found a spot to park the speeder, his boots firmly planted into the mud of the of the land. He was greeted with familiar masks of Nihil Raiders. Ancient in design, some obsolete, and some given modifications to meet modern standards.

A sight that was surprising and yet all too welcoming at the same time. Beneath his helm he gave each one a look. To his surprise he found them all to be Chiss. Were they to serve here willingly, or were these indoctrinated that embraced the Maw through pain. Not that any of it all had made much of a difference. Giving each one a look, and one last look to the leader who had a BD-1 unit to his shoulder as if a monkey lizard to a pirate of the Rim. Before he could start speaking a voice came to his head. Not a loud screeching boom, but that of something akin to ice water in the veins. A voice that only spoke with disdain and yet a command all at the same time. "Knights! Return to me, the plan is entering into it's final stages of completion if you wish to serve. You will find the nearest Maw transport and get off this world at once. This is my will." Bendak couldn't help but feel great hatred overwhelm him. Both him and Jaedec were dispatched to the Temple, and now like dogs in a game of fetch were being ordered back. Unlike complying with the order Bendak had all but lost his cool and his voice boomed out into his surroundings and into the sky. "KYREL!!! YOU SENT US HERE TO QUELL THIS RABBLE FROM THE TEMPLE, YET YOU DEPART WITHOUT A CARE FOR US! IS IT YOU'RE INTENTION FOR US TO DIE? WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN US!?"

Bendak's rage sent the birds flying in a panic from the trees. It was as if the set of orders that had been recently given out had all been for nothing. If Kyrel was to depart, what he couldn't fathom was why weren't they taken by the Master of Ren. Was all of this meaningless, or was it yet simply another test for them. Jaedec watched, confused but received the same orders just the same. The Chiss raiders all but watched and stared at Bendak. As if Bendak was the crazy one and the Chiss weren't yelling out into the sky like that. It took a moment for Bendak to calm himself. Giving the Temple a glare before he grunted in frustration. As if the Temple in itself was simply a lost cause all due to Kyrel's final word. Bendak didn't even bother on the speeder, as he found himself slowly walking into the thick of the land. "Come, we are leaving and we must hurry if we wish to keep our lives. Surely you rather not die with this wretched world." His rage all but turned silent in that moment. Now they all had no choice but to make the trek back and to find transport. Or at least a vantage point where they would call for help if all was not possible.

 

[Jaedec Ren]

​

Location: Outside of Bone Temple
Obejective: Extraction Zone, Operation Cinder
Allies: Bendak Crail Adaz Dakrul
Enemies: Kyyrk Jhira Mereel Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Equipment: Mandalorian Executioner VibroAxe, Ren Armor

Despite the hulking barbarian that was Jaedec he managed to gain control over his own speeder. Following in league with that of fellow Knight of Ren Bendak. Having little more trouble in controlling his speeder bike due to the imposing size. Not to mention the mental instability of the Knight of Ren. Yet he barely managed to pull the all stop on the speeder nearly crashing into Bendak's own speeder before he got off and his feet hit the ground with a loud thump. In his haste he pulled his axe out and gazed upon the faces he nearly ran into. They were the faces of Chiss Raiders. Surprised just as Bendak to see such a sight within the ranks of the Maw, and better yet all willing to cause havoc. Surely such a surprising sight.

When the command was given by Kyrel to return. As usual the hulking brute did nothing but stand. As if it was all impassive to the Knight of Ren, but Bendak on the other hand broke out into a rage. Questioning into the heavens of why Kyrel had forsaken the Knights to such a fate that would happen soon. Jaedec simply stared at Bendak as if he had gone insane. It was not the place for a Knight to question the last word of the Master. If they were recalled back after being sent out, it was the Knights duty to follow without such complaint, nor question. That was the duty of all Knights was to follow without compromise or question. Something that Bendak for the moment seemed to forget in anger and in outburst as well.

When the outburst all but ended it seemed Bendak gave the temple a look, and went the other way. Jaedec on the other hand took an even longer look. His fists clenched and the thoughts of walking with the dead, to hear the metal of his axe against the enemy had all but vanished. In the end none of it would be worth it. Not if they were all dead, as much as it had been to Jaedec and of course Bendak's dismay as dead. He spoke to himself. "The sound of the axe will not bring forth calm on this day." He said as he turned to slowly depart towards from once they came. Keeping a brisk pace and leaving the Chiss raiders dumbfounded by what he had meant behind such cryptic and vague words.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

Affiliation: Brotherhood of the Maw
Nearby Allies: Darth Senthral Dakrul
Nearby Enemies: Kyyrk Diocletian Kahmen’’a Idariel Khora
Objective: Operation Cinder
Equipment: 2 Lightsabers

​

There was a moment of contemplation before any action unfolded. Tennacus stretched out and submerged himself into the Force - into the Dark Side- to understand the situation better since their extraction. The likes of his undead were being slaughtered. Each time one of the warriors fell, he felt the screams of their anguish reach out through the Force and etch itself within his mind. It did not hurt to endure such things, but each scream and bellow sounded itself within his thoughts, serving as a reminder that the enemy was ever successful in their progression. Unfortunate, but overall necessary, given the circumstances. Whilst he harboured no compassionate feelings towards the subordinates ascendant only through his mastery, he understood that their sacrifice would not be in vain. Like prey luring towards the snare, each defeat of the Sith's numbers was a step closer to the enemy's downfall. But they were swift, cunning in their actions - he could feel it. Lightsabers sounding against rotting flesh - blasters erupting cavities into fleshless chests. Still, his connection with the few still standing remained intact; but there was one amongst them he sought to favour above the rest.

Once he was sure of its continued presence, then - and only then - did he give his Apprentice the answer he sought.

The Sith Lord opened his eyes. The expression written on his face - what of it was not obscured by the mask cupped around its lower half - was enough that he needed not to exhale a sigh.

"You will have to learn how to eventually deal with handling that vessel yourself, Lord Senthral. Our ability to carry out our tasks will demand it in my absence."

His fingers reached towards his ear, opening a connection to the commlink between himself and the Wandering Pilgrim.

"77-B, do you read me?"

The connection was unstable for a moment, but a positive chirp sounded with a sufficient connection.

A droid's, ungendered mechanical voice sounded through their ears melancholically.

"For the moment, My Lords. What of your operation?"

Tennacus ignored the question. "How far away are you from our current location?"

There was a moment of silence, before the droid answered, "Your security protocol does not permit me to give you that answer. May I inform you through reference of time?"

Tennacus stayed silent.

". . . Nine minutes. Are you in need of extraction?"

"Lord Senthral is," Tennacus answered. "I need you to collect him and perform a bombing run."

"Extract and deploy, sir?"

"Extract and deploy."

There was a pause between them. "Confirmed, sir. Lord Senthral, please stand by until the Pilgrim has descended to your location. Lord Tennacus, I might advise you teach Lord Senthral how to operate the Wandering Pilgrim solely, in the future. It would be most unfortunate for a droid to teach him these things."

Tennacus disconnected the commlink and turned to his Apprentice. "Once you are extracted, work alongside 77-B. Deploy a seismic charge upon the temple, and do not alert me at all of its deployment. If one charge is unsuccessful, deploy another. When I am ready for extraction, I will inform you. There may be survivors who will try and escape the temple, so make sure the cannons are prepped and ready to loosen."

It was not a request, but Lord Senthral knew that. Tennacus moved away from his Apprentice, moving towards a place where he could concentrate. Once again, he submerged himself into the Dark Side, closing his eyes to focus his essence upon the temple. The horde were the least of his concern, in that moment. Instead, his focus primarily installed itself upon one of the wraiths, taking full and utter control of its body, adorning his wisps and fabrics for himself, albeit through the Force. Whilst his abilities were not absolute through such dilution between hosts, he was still very much capable of manipulating the wraith in such a way that he could use it to battle those within.


And into the bowels we go. . .


The battle beneath was sporadic. The sounding of undead was almost deafening, with ghastly echoes reaching through the network at such unnatural volumes. Tennacus could hear it as clear as day, his auditory senses now attuned to the Force Wraith under his entire control, much like everything else. It was not within immediate presence of the enemy, gathered behind masses of undead moving awkwardly within the temple, almost shuffling more than they were marching. The Sith had no patience for such trivial motions, and saw to accelerating his progression towards the enemy by the wraith's very hand.

The ghastly shadow retrieved a weapon from one of the undead: a rusted Sith sword with no amount of glamour or enchantment, perhaps untouched for a thousand years. Although aged, its cut was worthy to the flesh, as the Sith Lord demonstrated on his own horde, cutting them down as he passed them - whichever was unfortunate enough to blockade his movements. They screeched, but not once did they turn against him, with others merely ignoring the wraith's presence as it passed by them a black shadow.

But there were still those further within the enemy was confronting, struggling, gnawing and falling against weapons of all variants, to which the undead had no way of fending with proper tactician. Necessary losses, given the coming storm. It would come not as just that black shadow moving through the dark, but the Sith Lord would speak nothing about it to the enemy, in any case. Dragging the rusted weapon through the dark, the wraith made its presence known, eventually emerging before the enemy in open space, clear of any undead. What few were left would fight as they were tasked, with few more arriving behind the black wisp conjured up by the Dark Side. Its face was but a shadow to which no features bore presence: a mere blank canvas devoid of all life's gifts.

But what it didn't have, it could so easily take away.

". . . I must commend you," a voice echoed, disembodied, sounding itself through the temple. "All of you, great warriors of justice. You have done well to make your presence known here - even more so against those I rose to bring about your demise. In the future, I may have to rely on Technobeasts to employ such menace that will better serve the Dark Side. Then again," The voice paused, and the Force Wraith slowly advanced. "I believe you take pride in killing the enemy, whatever they are. . . don't you?"