Invasion Crumbling Castle | NIO Invasion of TSE Held Gravlex Med and Ibanjii (Generis)

[Rika Hiro]

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L A D Y_S I L E N C E
NEW_IMPERIAL_ORDER
C O M P N O R
Tag: Kelig Ward Don Belkora
Opposition: feel free to attack

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Rummaging through the narrow ventilation shaft, Asa came upon what appeared to be the opposite end of the vent system and carefully crawled out. She took great care not to alert anyone of her presence coming out of the vents, making sure to discreetly place the grid down so she wouldn't make a clatter and attract unwanted attention. The HRD didn't need half the station breathing down her team's neck. She wasn't keen on making a mess where it was not needed; her whole modus operandi was silence and efficiency as befitting HRDs of the Eris program. Running in guns blazing and shooting up anything with a pulse was Compforces domain, likely accounting for why the unit passed through so many agents every year.

Asa's processing core chip alerted her with a transmission updating the Atrisian droid on the developing ground situation raging outside. It seemed to her that the Galidraani troops were pulverizing Sith perimeter defences and would soon descend upon the base, ideally drawing away attention from her and her team. Hopefully, Mr Tal and Barran would be as kind as to destroy the station landing pads too. She glanced around the confines of the room; there was little in the way of light in the lower station levels where the trio had broken into. However, that wasn't a problem as the HRDs eyes were adapted for the darkness, and both Belkora and Ward had night vision gear on them.


As she cautiously made her way through the door and out into the wider corridor, she noticed that there was quite a bit of equipment and boxes lying around. Seemingly confirming that the station garrison had either fled or hastily got armed at the claxon sound alerting of Imperial landing carriers. That was within the realm of reasonable explanations. With the recent emergence of dissident Sith enclaves gripping the declining Sith empire like a pair of parasitic tumours, the Sith eternalists were stretched for men and resources, especially after the two titanic battles were wrought upon Bastions grey steps.

The HRD halted before a closed door, examining it intently for weak spots as she took out her datapad and pulled out an extension cable and hotwired it into the doors fingerpad mechanism. Programming code flashing green on her datapad screen illuminated the Atrisians face in a shade of ghastly ominous green, the sole source of light in an otherwise midnight black corridor. With a flick of her hand and a quick code combination on her pad, the door slid open with a satisfying crunch. Beyond the opening, the architecture shifted from militaristic hexagonal corridors to a sizeable orbicular monitoring room with a panoramic view of camera feeds that kept watch on the station. She looked around, recognizing the style as being similar to many COMPNOR holding facilities and blacklist sites. The Braxant run conquest had left the agency with an inheritance of multiple Saarishash centres and monitoring bases.

Asa let her fingers slide along the backs of the chairs as she passed them by, strolling leisurely around the room and peering into the camera feeds. There were persons of interest to the agency that might still be trapped in the station or were too slow to evacuate. Or maybe even stayed out of defiance, which was stupid and illogical. She did wonder if they'd talk; part of her hoped they would. Of course, she would torture them regardless of their co-operation or not, but it was always more gratifying to watch them break slowly. She sat down in the main seat, crossing one leg over the other and relaxed, gazing intently across the multiple rows of monitors, looking for anyone and anything of interest while she waited for the others to arrive. She hated lack of punctuality in an agent, it screamed weakness. ​

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[Loske Treicolt]

WE ARE
OUTER RIM | GENERIS | OUTER RIM COMMUNICATION CENTRE
A DROWNING

​

The Twi'lek's blade struck true, piercing through flesh and muscle.

Ropes of purplish-black rose from the shape’s shoulder blade and tightened around the hilt of the dagger, wrenching it from their mutual outer layer. In an instant, it was removed and hurling it in a straight line from whence it came — the constant thrum of the vibrosword behind them like a beacon.

Simultaneously, an eruption of plasma blossomed against her belly and tore through experimental and human layers, searing through the muscles beneath. The creature was ripped backward from its straddling position, stood for a moment, stepping back several times to maintain balance in their shocked state, before collapsing into the tall grass.

Short, hoarse gasps rasped in and out of their lungs in quick succession. The inky layer around her face peeled back, hurriedly redirecting to the wound on her torso.

In this moment of anguished bliss, Loske was able to say the belaboured breaths were her own. She could feel the sweet jungle air with her own senses. It felt wet around her face, humidity mixing with the sweat and red ichor that stained her skin. Metal’s taste filled her mouth, blood pooling across her tongue and she strained to look at the wound without comprehension. Her skin was charred and sticky with blood, smoke rising from the hole where her abdomen had been.

The exolayer worked quickly to find similarities in the flesh, interweaving and lacing it back together as it had done moments earlier. But this wound was more fatalistic and required more union between the Jedi and symbiote. They needed to be truly symbiotic, not unbalanced as they were.

"The more you fight what is happening, the more painful it will be. The more you struggle, the more it will struggle. The longer you refuse to bond, the more damage you inflict on yourself. The more you reject the darkness, the more voracious it will be when you succumb. Your choices now will determine what you become, Loske, and how much of you will be left at the end of this process of growth."

She closed her eyes and rolled to their side. When they opened again, she was looking across at the silhouette of the armoured soldier, and then to the Twi’lek, but back at the soldier in concentration while tears intermingled with the blood from her facial cavities.

There was a glimmer of realization in those ocean eyes — but it was mutated. Where she should have recognized a friend’s impression within the great empyrean, her misty memories were violated by selectivity. That presence had been at the inaugural instance of their union, they’d played a hand responsible.

Where Loske Treicolt might have found forgiveness for her friend’s misgivings, the alien throughout found only blame. And blame was an opportunity for revenge. Instances of misconstrued conversations raced through their shared mind, strengthening the trust in one another though it was on false foundation. He took the shot! He’d promised to never take the shot.

"You..lied to us." They spoke, the sentence bleeding into a hundred gravelly voices in total harmony.

He didn't only not belong in her faux reality, but she needed to avenge the wrongs perceived done.

Azure irises faded into black pupils, which curdled and clouded into a grey-white milkiness of their eyes. She hated being lied to. That was a certainty of the Jedi that was the final tipping point to the madness that demanded sacrifice. In response to the acceptance, the ever-living coating stretched up her chest and neck once more, covering her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead and eyes last.

The monster's reconstruction was complete, and she realized a monster might not be such a terrible thing to be. The word itself was originally some sort of divine messengers of catastrophe, adapted by linguists overtime to be fantastical creatures. To be a monster was to be a hybrid signal, both a shelter and a warning at once.

Something the galaxy hadn't seen before, as Taeli had promised. As they had accepted.

Relief was found in the release, giving into the war of her mind and the destruction that had been slowly eroding her reality. She'd grown tired treading water, gasping for air where there was none –– and now she was drowned entirely. Everything she’d tried to do to stop it had been futile. The Lady of Secrets had been right. The more Loske had tried to counteract the symbiote’s consciousness, the more she offered up of her own to be destroyed. The darkness’s overtaking was overwhelming and entire.

No longer having to fight against internal resistance, the healing process managed to accelerate. The strength in their bond contributed to the efficiency of the process. Sinew after sinew crisscrossed over one another to tighten and conceal the wound as if it had never been. Any scarring was consumed by the blackness, making her whole again as they rose to stand again, talons flexed. Predatorial senses heightened to new levels, flashing between the Vibrosword and the armed agent while she fully calibrated.

ALLIES | TSE
ENEMIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Djorn Bline | Eira Dwynwen

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST VIII
THE_CLAYMORE

1st GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE
2nd BATTALION,"THE BLUE-HEARTS"

OBJECTIVE 1: Generis Base | ORCC

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Rurik Fel Djorn Bline Willan Tal Lucien Dooku
Konrad Bolter Jax Sloane Loros Kalaric Nima Appw'rii Halketh
Jiosha Relawny Rika Hiro Don Belkora Arten Jinn Sol Stazi

ENEMIES (TSE): Eira Dwynwen The Amalgam Darth Daiara Loske Treicolt

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

A FIELD-SURGEON'S WIZARDRY

'And in your current predicament?', the Lord-Major asked in reply, before seeing a hopeful-deadpan that momentarily brought back the dormant laughing fits from before, subsiding as he met Sloane's handshake in the middle with an endearing nod. As the hands disengaged from their introductory gesture of respect, Erskine concluded his answer with the clearest speech his Heartlands-accent could muster,'Forgive my bluntness, but maybe it's a good thing that every last riderless speeder-bike's been written right off by that - walker over there, Commander. Thanks for the correction, in any case, but it's safe to say we're of the same officers' class, so it's perfectly fine-and-proper if we stick to first-names in conversation.'

'Shall we load 'im onto the ACV, Milord? Genuinely don't mind workin' on the move, the ACV runs along like a luxury-cruiser most o' the time anyways.'

'Make it so, Coyle. An' when he's ready, we can give him a shot on the LMG-turret.', Barran replied, a comment that hadn't escaped Corporal Hogg's notice, drawing down from his seat to glare angered, targeted chagrin wordlessly at his Lord-Major as the field-surgeon steadily lifted Sloane onboard. Foreseeing the LMG-gunner's response, the Lord-Major cut in before the corporal could interject, almost exclaiming as he said,'Yer eyesight, target-groupings an' general knowledge of all oor ordnance exceeds a vast majority o' those in the Cataphracts and APCs, Hogg. You, Corporal, are no mere LMG-gunner. You appear t'be the perfect makings of the Blue-Hearts' next QM, so you'll be learning your craft among G-Company for the foreseeable future. No ifs, no buts, just a duty t'yer own bullish trajectory!'

Putting the G-Company thistle above Hogg's previously-unadorned corporal-chevrons, CSM Rhone nodded silent congratulations to his newest subordinate and pointed the newly appointed Guard-Corporal to young Baird's position; keeping the company's next generation within verbal-brainstorming distance of each other, knowing fully that 4-Platoon had just become the guard-company's most effective unit, and with little more than a whim to urge the transfer into fruition. Coyle would look on to see the slumped posture of the former LMG-Gunner Corporal as he walked off to find Baird's platoon, turning his gaze from Hogg to Rhone before muttering,'Gid luck wae that wan, Rhone. If ye asked me, ah'd say he was better off as an LMG-gunner for a Cataphract-crew, an' no as a QM-prospect. But that's just me, an' nought but the opinions of a karkin' field-surgeon.'

'Aye, thanks for your input, Leftenant Glaikit. Now hurry up an' treat yer patient, the ACV needs an LMG-gunner for a reason!'

TROUBLE TO THE SOUTH

'Guess ah won't get t'see the whites o' their eyes after all. Not so sure I'd want to see what we'd pull out from within it, seen that ugly sort many times, and it was one time too many every time.', Erskine groaned to no-one in particular, visibly cringing at the unfortunate sight of Nixie's AT-PW, lying face-down over a gargantuan stretch of the clearing behind their moving formation of speeder-bikes, walkers, the Lord-Major's small smattering of tank and armoured vehicles. All the tracked armoured-vehicles would serve as topside transports for Barran's guard-company, and the APCs would (once again) double up as medical transports to the secondary command-post's field-hospital, much to the relief of the wounded, relieved to be on vehicles driven by medics with every intention of making their medivac as speedy as possible.

'Aye, Milord. A quick way t'ruin yer appetite, that's for sure. "Such sights can, and will make vegetarians of life's biggest sentient-carnivores.", as Thrast said....'

'So it's no jus' Shugg noo, it's you quotin' Thrast as well? Never knew ye had it in ye, Coyle.', the Lord-Major grumbled, almost to himself as he started to wish he hadn't left his Thrast-collection on Thyrsus, turning away from the smoking husk of the walker that had once been under Nixie's control with growing disappointment. As Barran's gaze drew over the injuries on the speeder-bike commander's head, the field-surgeon's work was offering a view of the progress made, displaying a total of progress that showed Coyle was already halfway to completing his task. Seeing this, Erskine couldn't help but marvel at the field-surgeon's work, exclaiming,'Heh! No bad, Leftenant! If ye keep up at this pace, we'll be able t'let Commander Sloane up top within the hour-'

A distant sonic thud cracked it's way across the base of the jungle's expanse from the south, one that hit with such force that everyone in the armoured-column felt it underfoot, interrupting the Lord-Major's complimentary appraisal with a whomp that turned every head inside the ACV to face southwards towards it. Climbing up top, Major Barran lifted his SA-35's scope to his right eye to find where ground-zero may have been, only to find a giant dome of the darkest shadow enveloping Konrad Bolter's AT-AT company completely; this was both a sign and a warning of things to come, and in that fateful moment, Erskine could do nothing to stop his urge to rush to Bolter's aid. Every fibre of the Lord-Major's being was chomping at the bit, and the goosebumps they gave him made every hair on the back of his neck stand to attention as Barran growled on the comms,'All units - we're moving south! That - thing's just begging for it's own destruction! ADVANCE!!!'
​

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[Eleena Salwa]

Location: Moving Into Jungle Surrounding Generis Base - Generis
Call Sign: Mermaid Nine
Allies: TSE ( The Amalgam )
Enemies: NIO (Loros Kalaric Konrad Bolter Jax Sloane Arten Jinn Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran )

“Remind me...why are we here again? So many bugs…” Lilacasa Courser spoke up, her expression a grimace beneath her helmet as a particularly large looking mosquito buzzed around her head, presumably seeking a point in the woman’s suit to punch its proboscis through in order to extract life essence encased within. Fortunately, the creature’s efforts were to no avail and it quickly moved on to locate a more vulnerable host.

“Something something...the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Or is that the wrong context?” Lexi added, raising a brow as she watched the battle transpiring over the horizon, within the depths of the jungle. From their position in the hills surrounding the jungle, they could see the raging infernos and the violence transpiring within, the sounds of the distant, yet nonetheless cacophonous symphony of war reaching their ears as artillery bombardments commenced across the area.

“Cut the chatter.” Isena Elysi, the premier swoop ace of the Corps spoke up, before taking the telltale deep breath which Eleena had learned meant that whatever the Echani intended to say next was in some way significant. “Mount up, Mermaids. We’re going in.”

The surging New Imperial forces in the wake of the Sith retreat from the jungle created a prime environment for the hit-and-run harassment attacks interceptor and fighter swoops were ideal for. While they did not have the firepower to engage vehicles beyond that of light or medium repulsor craft, the potential damage that their machines could wreak on infantry formations was something to be feared, if not for its effectiveness, but as an instrument of shock warfare and psychological pressure. While there were still pockets of Sith resistance within the jungle, including The Amalgam 's witches and droids, they were rendered less effective without support.

With a deep breath, Eleena sealed her helmet around her head, then powered on her swoop. The twin turbo ion jet drives roared to life, then settled into a low, barely audible hum owing to the activation of the sonic dampening systems that silenced the engines. From there, she took to the skies, following in the wake of Isena's machine as the ace led Mermaid squadron down towards the jungle.

“We’re here for two things, Mermaids.” The Echani began over comms. “One, as some twisted form of force recon. And two...to kill Imperials.” The Alliance with the Eternal Empire, notwithstanding. “Non-Eternal Imperials.” She added, albeit awkwardly. The fact that the current regent of the Eternal Empire, Ingrid L'lerim , was also a prominent figure in the Agents of Chaos, in some sense made the two factions situational allies.

“That said, we’re going to split up in order to cover as much area as possible. Remember, hit and run attacks, don’t stick around in one place for too long, and keep them under pressure. We’re too fast for them to truly pin us down, but where possible, support any Sith holdouts in the jungle.”

Meeting her words with an affirmative chorus, the pilots split up as they descended into the jungle. For her part, Eleena moved her machine in the relative direction of the remaining Sith holdouts ( The Amalgam ). Then, as her surroundings shifted from that of clear blue skies to burning foliage and smoke-filled air, Eleena sent a transmission to them across encrypted comms.

“This is Mermaid Nine, does anyone copy? I’m on station for close support via swoop. Ready on your mark, over.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• FAE/V-02 “Loralora” Interceptor Hyperswoop Craft
  • Flex Tube Mass Driver Whistling Birds (2)
    • Brilliant Nano Missiles
    • High-Explosive Nano Missile
  • Pilot Gear
    • FAE/A-03 Repulsor Craft Riding Suit
      • Energy Shield
        • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
      • Undersuit
        • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
    • X7-B “Checkmate” Holdout Disruptor

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Equipment: Sith Sword (In signature), Saberstaff
Attire: Regalia, Cape (Both in signature)
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA/NIO | Specifically Zaavik Perl and Auraya Irath-Ur
Today's Program: A Waltz​

The words the Jedi shot back at her only brought on more laughter, as Ariealla simply couldn't hold in the temptation. He had a certain something to him, and that hate in his voice was just delectable. "Oh such harsh words, you've got a bit of spice to you don't you? A little kick? I like that, I like that quite a bit." Ariealla of course knew the words would not be taken quite as she intended them. They were playful, almost teasing, and since he seemed familiar with combat it was an obvious attempt to undermine his composure. What he wouldn't pick up, she assumed, was how she was really speaking in terms of how one might find food to taste. She was, after all, quite the gormet.

The words she gave only barely managed to come out of her lips by the time the two were already striking at one another, herself and the Knight. Her strike was parried rather well, and a beat later she returned the sentiment. When his blade went for her shoulder, she calmly sidestepped and parried into a hanging guard, letting the blade fall harmlessly to the side of her. He had done well, but without being able to see the orientation of her sword he seemed to have been a bit too overzealous.

He also didn't seem to understand what kind of danger he and his student were in.

"Raya, Oh that's a lovely name. But, it sounds more like the name you'd give a pet, rather than a person. Hmmm..."

Perhaps she ought to try and end this quickly. By the sounds of it all, there was quite a commotion all around them, and the longer she was distracted with these two the fewer people she could kill. And oh, how she wanted to hear them die, and give one last song. So, she reached out with the Force at the Knight, unconcerned with the Padawan for the moment as she began her assault on his mind. Her weapon of choice?

Force Suppression. As she put it, the greatest mind trick.

Using the Force, she tried to burrow her way into Zaavik Perl 's mind, and convince the Jedi that the Force was suddenly cut away from him. She wanted him to feel completely helpless, and lose himself to the feeling of being without the warm comfort of the Force. Of course, the truth of the matter was rather simply that she could not actually do so, merely convince his mind that it happened. And if it worked, anything he was channeling through himself would simply cease, and then he could watch Auraya Irath-Ur die, or fall, or whatever came next. That was of course, if he did not possess the will to resist.

Either way, she quickly circled around them, and again made a strike, this time at Raya's throat. Vicious, and swift, she lashed out at her now. She was putting faith and confidence in both the padawan's inability to fight, and the effectiveness of Suppression. If either was lacking, she'd finally treat them to a proper show.

 

[Brama Tagge]

ALLIANCE COMMAND
CORUSCANT || CHANCELLOR'S SITUATION ROOM
GAME CHANGER

"Senator, good to have you,"
"our first engagement as official.... allies.... of the New Imperial Order. Who could have imagined?"

If The Chancellor had any reservations about the union with iron, she didn't blink. As unimpressed as Brama was about the entire deal, she was galvinized by Adhira's tenaciously forward-focused attitude.

"Certainly not I." She admitted honestly, doing well not to have her tone be too cutting.

“Yes… a protege.”
“Taberae…"
“Well, ah, everyone is down there is important to someone I imagine,”

Pearly brows rose in pleasant surprise. A single finger drew between her chin and bottom lip in consideration to the sentiment and nodded once. She hadn't considered the Vice-Chancellor to be a man of relationships, but she supposed a protege was a sort of investment –– they just had to prove their worth in stock.

"Ah hum," she agreed and leaned back in her chair while her hound dropped to lay at her feet, exhaling heavily.

"That's the marvellous thing about humanity, isn't it? We find ways to make others important to us, finding little details that we hold on to and call precious... things we think we should make memories of." She closed her eyes, reflecting fondly on her late husband's poetic demeanour and how often he fell into the whimsical musings of what made a sentient..sentient –– was it other sentients? Was it that which made something truly conscious, the ability to perceive value in another?

Her romantic reflection was cut short by the incoming transmissions around ORCC. Little dots on the holographic map blinked out of existence in slow succession.

<“Trying to find an opening for me to exploit, Vice Chancellor. I’ve marked several points of access to advance on, since I am operating alone.”>
<“I’ll give you an update once I’m- wait, hold up.”>
<“Dammit, sh*t.”>

Brama knew what it was like to be on the hunt alone, isolated against a predator. She covered her mouth to conceal the muted agitation that sprawled across wrinkled lips and scratched at a non-existent itch at the corner of her mouth. She didn't need to say how not good that sounded, it was written on the other's faces. Even her hounds' ears perked intuitively.

"Did we lose him?" Brama asked, the incoming comms a sound of rustling and struggle. The agent's dot on the map hadn't faded, so that was positive, but there were new signals being detected in the area.

Elsewhere, the siege with tanks and warmachines were gaining traction, pressing dutifully onto the orbital command centre which reduced her concern for a single individual.

"Even I've got to admit," she cocked her head, leaning forward and squinting her good eye at the floating, digital renderings of DECEASED Erskine Barran , Jax Sloane , Konrad Bolter and their organization: "Those Imperial lads know what they're doing."

Better allies than otherwise. For now.

---

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ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Aerarii Tithe | Gat Tambor | Donavon Arturo | Adhira Chandra

 

[Konrad Bolter]

T Y R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
66th ARMORED COMPANY 'HELL'S HAMMERS'
XT-62 | MBTb 'Cataphracht'

ARCHAISIANS NEVER DIE​

TYRANT - SPEAR
I - II - III - IV - V

DEVIL - SWORD
I - II - III - IV - V

The Cataphracts were taking the punishment of the jungle well on the initial push forward, the unyielding nature of the Bastard Bolter would pay off. All else be damned. They would not be buried in the ash, they would not be left to die. They would crawl bloodied and defiant to their mission, their objective and drag a million Sith screamers down with them. Many things could be said about Konrad Bolter. He was an abrasive prick to put it lightly, but he wasn't a weak man, he wasn't a cowardly man. He was one of the most tenacious and unbreakable commanders in the Armored corps. And he'd make his stand on Generis. Whatever the worth of this planet was, he'd make the Sith pay for it.

<"Switching to high explosive-.">

<"Make whatever call you need to make this is a target rich environment, no time to list shots or determine priority, you see one of clankers or any Sith you better fire."> Konrad commanded as the harsh rattle of the turbolaser unfurling a punishing volley of supercharged particle beams into a formation of approaching droids sounded out before they continued to hover forward.

<"Fuck...they're moving to envelop us, we'll be dead before we get anywhere at this rate, deploy defensiv-"> The next thing he heard erupted as an immediate ringing in his ears and a blackness enveloping his vision. Tyrant Actual had bared some of the worst to it, not to spare the rest of his formation, all of which brought to waste and scrap from the sudden ambush and assault. It was dark...silent.

Then...his heartbeat, his breath, his vision began...blurry but, it was there...and then everything came into view again. The display panels were shattered, depicting a horrid miasma of distorted color sourcing from the shatterpoints. The view panels much of the same, the interior of the tank, scorched black and erupt in flames before the automatic fire suppression systems kicked in to snuff them out. He reached over to the gunner's seat, seeing the bare face of the Mantellian man next to him, half of his face charred black and red. Intact, but burnt. He heard the desperate heaves of pain, the desperate tears as he clung to consciousness. The bacta injectors built into the combat assault tank armor did the lion's share in keeping him from the final brink, the sacred silence.

Konrad wasn't faring any better. The viewport nearest to the command position had shattered, a burst of thin glasteel particles embedded into his face to create grotesque streams of blood down his face. Shrapnel and scrap dug into his flesh around the armor which managed to protect his abdomen enough so that the explosive shockwave didn't eviscerate him immediately.

He looked down toward the driver's position. Krodare. Killed in action. He couldn't bare the sight longer than a second or two. The gore and bone protruding from the proud armor in a foreboding sight. He cursed himself at the sight. At his own failure to protect him...everyone else.

"Artyom- you with me?" He looked over to the gunner next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. A frantic nod in reply before he spoke up.

"Y-yeah...it- wh-" The Mantellian spoke up in confused horror.

"I can't see...I can't feel anything, Major." The hardened man sounded like a scared boy in that moment, the weight of his own mortality bearing down on him. Konrad smeared a wave of blood along his own face with the back of his wrist as he nodded once. There was second of respite to regain his bearings before the hydraulic claws of one of the Neutralizers began to pry at the jagged metal of the tank, a patch of the composite hull peeling open to reveal one of the Neutralizer's horrid crimson gaze looking toward him. He immediately drew his pistol, firing out a pulse as he extended his arm fully out and peered down the sights, matching them up between that piercing robotic gaze.

"I'm- I'm not gonna make it, Major...I'm sor-" Artyom was cut off immediately by the commander.

"Yes you are...c'mon, keep awake..." Konrad stressed, the frantic helplessness in his tone.

"Sing with me, you know the song, don't you?" Konrad asked before he began the classic Claimant Archaisian tune.

"This mighty land...will prosper, Archaisians never die..." He said the first line that came to his head before another droid came to the breach, Bolter putting it down all the same as the other. He heard a faint laugh from the Mantellian, immediately recognizing Konrad's patriotic tune. It drew a well needed smile to Bolter's lips before he continued on.

"They can send their men...to murder...they can shout their words of hate. But the cost of keeping this land free...'never be too great." A groan of pain emerged from his chest as he peered down to see a grievous wound gaped into the side of his abdomen. The bacta injectors subsided it for a moment, but when the pain emerged it did so with a vengeful fury. He sang again, to keep his mind off the pain.

"Cause our men n' boys are fighting...for the things that they hold dear- and this land and all its people...will never disappear." Konrad sang again, in defiance of the reaper that crept closer and closer to claiming him to the hereafter. He reached to grasp ahold of a seismic imploder, holding it close to his chest in his empty hand. Fortunate Artyom couldn't see the act.

But they would not go down as prisoners.

Archaisians never die.

ALLIES | NIO | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Jax Sloane | Loros Kalaric | Nima Appw'rii | Arten Jinn
ENEMIES | TSE | Nixie | The Amalgam | Marimax Mortui

 

[Kelig Ward]

Generis Base AO
Tag: Rika Hiro | Don Belkora
Opposition: None, but feel free to oppose!
General Loadout: Storm Recon MK.II | LS-1 "Angry Owl" | Glie-50 Sidearm

[THEME]​

With the counter-clockwise turn of the new barrel integrated into the body of his long rifle. Ward secured it tightly in place, later putting the warm barrel into his fieldpack. The field maintenance concluded, Ward slung the rifle over his back and broke over to a sprint across the trees in a slouched manner. The same way he made it to his first overwatch point, but he made sharp and drastic turns to avoid whatever was left of the sentry conscripts. Vaulting over a log or two and continuing his rush ahead. He eventually brushed across a similar piece of the environment, where he lost sight of Agent Yubari. After following a vague trail of corpses, the vent was later found.

"Found insertion method, I'm crawling in now." Ward stated.

There was one problem though, he had his rifle about his person and the shaft was too tight especially with the armor he donned. With a heavy sigh, he'd jab the butt of his rifle onto the dirt closeby and began creating a slot to discard his rifle in. Every moment wasted to properly hide his rifle led to the Agent glancing about his surroundings in a means of precautionary preservation of awareness. Once the slot was made and filled by his rifle, some dirt was kicked over it. With the camouflage it carried and the additional leaves on its body, it blended in.

Left with only his sidearm and a knife, the Agent hunkered down and slowly approached the vents. But footsteps were heard closeby as leaves crackled audibly once crushed by the boot of an enemy. One turn around the corner and the Agent will get spotted. Unacceptable. In the act of desperation, the Agent nimbly rushed to the adjacent side of the corner and awaited the prey. As the two seconds passed, Ward ran in his head on how to address the situation. Utilize the knife? No, that'd bring out blood and a mess. It'll leave a trail. It had to be done personally with his own two hands. He needed to break something on the inside.

And as the Sith Empire individual made it to the Agent's killzone, the agent gripped the fatigues of the unit from the collar and smashed the broadside of his hand to the foe's Adam's apple. The collision of a glove to the neck, followed by the sound of a gag. The enemy element didn't wear any armor, it was just a maintenance man. Fortune followed the Agent and not for the member of the opposite side. In combination, he drove his knee onto the unarmored gut of the maintenance man forcing a recoil forward. A headlock was to follow with the back of the Crewman's head under the agent's arm, Ward tugged upward and the snappy sound of something that just broke was produced.

The agent discarded the corpse over to the ditch and went over to crawl into the vent that his 2 compatriots crawled into. Putting anymore effort into concealing that body would just be a waste of energy and time. And while Ward stated that he'd be the last one, he never said he was going to set the crew back. While trying to keep his armor from producing noise in the vent, Ward followed after the other two.

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GENERIS
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES

HURT​

It was enough to get the monster off of their straddling position, inflicted with what could’ve been a critical wound when the lethal energy fired in such close proximity burned through the black skin and left its mark around its abdomens. It retreated back, shocked by the wound and stood for a few moments before falling down into the jungle’s tall grass. A moment of respite for him, gather himself and not give this black spawn a chance on him.

Put it out of its misery, a misery they probably lived in a constant state everyday; a misery they inflicted onto others. Just pull out his pistol and aim down on the iron sights, and fill them up with holes through their body.

If only it was that easy.

The Imperial recomposed himself, easing himself from the stress and anxiety that lingered in his nerves after the assassination attempt from the alien. Deep breaths of air that always made him realized how much people took for granted just to fill their lungs with molecules of oxygen. His pistol was drawn, sitting up and then standing on his own two feet looking at the direction where the monster fell from their wounds. He couldn’t make anything out of the spawn from the tall grass hiding their body. He could, however, hear their loud rasps for air. It was any noise someone or something would make when shot at their core. An opportunity for him to take advantage of, killing the thing in their weakened state.

But that moment of realization struck, and his pistol slipped through the fingers of his bionic hand when the digits obeyed message relayed by his complex of nerves.

It was her.

Consumed by that parasite that leeched onto her from that witch, and taken away from him. How much resources he exhausted just to find her? That didn’t matter as there wasn’t a price that could be more invaluable than her. His hands, flesh and bionic, pulled the helmet from his face and stared at the Jedi with tunnel vision as his attention was undivided to her. The Twi’lek woman? This battle? It all faded out of his mind. That had no importance to him.

His emotions got the better of him, like they always did.

Snake looked at the blonde with his face unveiled from his helmet which, too, fell to the dirt. His looks were perplexed, shocked to see her and happy at some degree although he was somber to see what had become of Loske.

What did she do to you?

His own sapphire eyes bridged with hers, sharing that moment of realization. Pain was etched on her face with tears rolling from her eyelids, traumatized by her suffering she was afflicted with by Raaf. A cry for help to save her from the nightmare she was living.

"You..lied to us."

Guilt and grief hit him when he remembered what he had done. What promise he made to her. Smoke still rose from the blaster bolt that struck at her abdomen, vaporizing the muscles and tissues on her actual flesh.

A promise he would never hurt her, honoring their friendship despite their conflicting roles. Another promise he broke, another lie he gave to her along with so many others he did to her. But this wasn’t her. He knew, for a fact, this wasn’t her. She was many things, but Loske wasn’t a woman to live on spite.

“Loske,” he called to her, hoping his words would help her in some way to resist against whatever sorrows drowning her. He wanted her back, and he’d get her back. He made a promise to bring her back and he wouldn’t fall short on it.

“I won’t fight you, I won’t hurt you.”

He had killed someone of importance to him years ago, a scar that cut through his heart. He wouldn’t make that sin again.

“Please, come back to me. I...I need you.”

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Rika Hiro | Don Belkora | Kelig Ward | Jax Sloane
ENEMIES | TSE | Eira Dwynwen | Loske Treicolt

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian
Voice Sample

The Shaper couldn't help a tremor of excited anticipation as his opponent made himself known, bristling with the Force, as the Whilstone of Acuity whispered foul murmurings to him. This man was a king, from a time even before The Shaper himself. How then, would such a wizened royarch address him? How would such an ancient being present themselves to another ancient presence in the Force? What level of uncanny wisdom and tact would such a being possess? Something to rival his own, perhaps?

This faint excitement and, dare he admit it to himself, hope was crushed in a moment as the golden, gleaming façade of Enlil's personage gave way to reveal the rotting, immature fool within. The glimmer of the 'sun' The Shaper had looked oh so forward to snuffing out was nothing but a lie to hide the stinking disappointment within Enlil. The Shaper could not help a heavy sigh passing his lip as the false king spit like an animal, howling his rushed words, and The Shaper extended a hand to grip Urfael's hilt as a grim, wry disappointment curled his lips. Rising to his full height, he gazed at the approaching Enlil with contemptuous disappointment. His voice taking on a tone much like a VERY tired parent chiding their child.

"Parasite?" Truly your court must have been one of the finest in the galaxy, one of the most resplendent and efficient. After all...." The Shaper swept Urfael to the same side as Enlil's hand, matching his motion as the ancient blade erupted in pallid green light, ancient runes alighting upon it's blade to punctuate his statement. "..... only such a court would have the King and the Fool be one and the same." Acharn would lift from the walkway by The Shaper's feet, deadly tip angled up before it was propelled forward with fierce telekinetic might and deadly accuracy for Enlil's mid-section. It's unnaturally sharp edge and tip promising to rip and punch through the Fool King's armor as best as it's malign design would allow, if it struck true.


The Shaper, however, did not expect this attack to strike home. His senses spread out, fueled by the Whilstone of Power, as he probed for Enlil's own influence over the Force. He highly doubted the motion of his adversary was merely for show and give the fiery spectacle Enlil had wrought on his approach to this very encounter, The Shaper was prepared to meet the ancient scion's power with his own. Blow for blow, breathe for breathe, ancient and hence unspoken displays of power. All of it. As his eyes began to alight with burning, magma-hued malevolence, more than anything, he was ready.


Allies: TSE and Friends

Enemies: GA, NIO and other assorted people

Engaging: Enlil

 

[Enlil]

STILL

​

"You talk much and say little."

The snapping sound of his fingers came in perfect time with two other snaps, from of one of the many support beams holding the catwalk aloft. It creaked and shifted violently under the pressure that Enlil placed on it, snapping free. It twisted and spun through air, whipping toward the King's waiting hand. The man anticipated a spectacle, but Enlil did not need to provide him with that.

After all, he was all the spectacle this room needed.

The metallic bar was a meter and a half in length. It spun deftly in his hand, the sudden, jarring change utilized two fold; first, to put the Shaper off his balance, and second, to break the other man's aim.

With the vector of the strange spear jilted away from him by this, Enlil let the natural flow of his makeshift staff bat the weapon safely away. If the Sith did not maintain his hold over the weapon, it would plummet toward the ground below.

Even if he did, Enlil naturally moved forward in time with his own weapon's arc, bringing the frayed, sharp metallic edge to bear on the Shaper's body in an arc from right shoulder to left hip.

"You are beneath even contempt."

Arctus Silmar​

 

[Eira Dwynwen]

Tag: Djorn Bline | Loske Treicolt
Equipment: Vibrosword, one dagger
Attire: Super Practical Jungle Outfit
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO
​

The dagger hit, Eira was pleased, it seemed that she was doing good on hitting targets from a distance. Perhaps it was time to invest in a blaster or too, might be good idea for the spy. Though she wasn't sure if that was something that would do her any good when the dagger seemed to turn into a boomerang and turn on her. She dodged out of the way, though her clothes were torn by the dagger. Eira sighed deeply as she liked this outfit and now it was ruined by boomerang dagger and mud! Why did nice things have to suffer so much in this cursed war?! Eira looked at the tear, it was large but luckily her skin was free of the scar. It would be really annoying to go through all her slave years without a single mark on her flesh and then first big battle she is in and get a big ugly scar.

Eira looked and couldn't see where her dagger went, lost to the wilderness, it would have hurt but she was a little peeved to have her dagger turn on her and ruin her clothing. Looking over to the Sith like creature, apparently the soldier had gotten a solid shot on the Sith, seemed to be life threatening which was frustrating. Eira didn't want her ally to die, maybe run off, but dying wasn't a good look especially if she let it happen. While Sith were all able the strongest must survive, Eira wasn't a Sith, she wasn't a Force User, so she feared letting a superior die would be bad.

Before she could stop the NIO soldier shoot the Sith, he lowered the gun, it was clear on his face that this was someone he recognised. Eira studied the creature, there seemed to be a woman trapped underneath but then the situation changed. She called the soldier boy a liar and then transformed before them. Eira held her sword up ready, it didn't seemed to be going well but she couldn't let the creature kill soldier boy or kill her, she kind of liked living, life was fun. Looking over to the soldier, she raised an eyebrow, "really? You are now deciding to be a pacifist?"

When it rose to its feet and looked ready to attack, "I would rather not die, so fighting would be a good option for that. I don't know what is going on but I ain't escaping capture to just get killed by the Sith!" Eira cried out, hoping to get through to the soldier. Whoever this creature was, didn't seem like she could get away with not harming it now. That was frustrating to say the least.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

“Yes I am..”

“Lucien.”

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.

"Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks. "I mean, when the name fits."

He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Allies: Saket Keane & The Sith Empire.
Opposition: Aaran Tafo , GA & NIO.
Inventory: Simple Jedi Robes, Jedi Training Saber.

​

"Whhat'z thhiz?"

Valen's eyes widened as he realized he had been detected by one of the two that had been facing each other off further down the corridor from him. His hand tightened around his lightsaber hilt, preparing himself for whatever was to come next from the Sith when he was suddenly hurled forward by an unseen force. The surprise of which made him lose his weapon entirely, the hilt deactivating as the weapon spun off to the ground with a clatter while Valen came down against the ground floor of the temple hard, front heavy and rolling several times over. Had either of them wished to kill him, they could've easily done so.

"Stay whhere you are!"

Valen scrambled to get back to his feet, winded and bruised yet otherwise all in one piece against all belief, his hands rising up in front of him in surrender, eyes glancing to the second of them although not able to make out their reaction for their helmet left all to the imagination. He had stumbled upon a fight, yet didn't know who or why, just that the one demanding answers felt strong within the Force. The Darkside.

"...ah...you are no Jedi. You are no brother, eithher. Explain!"

"I need the Empire's help" Valen answered hastily, fearing his life was on the line least he complies; "I've come from Kashyyyk but you're right, I'm no Jedi. I need to get to Dromund Kaas...-I tracking a cult but I'm untrained and the Jedi can't help me" he spoke swiftly, not really caring for what the truth might mean or not mean to the other. Before him was a Sith pure and clear, his way back to the capital of the Empire and somewhere that he could acquire the knowledge and the ability to repay those who had enslaved him, and force someone to tell him something about where he'd come from before that.

 

[Noel Strasza]

U N D E R T O W
MAJOR NOEL "DEADER" STRASZA
2nd DOOM DIVISION "THE WATCHMEN" | 8/8
ALLIES | NIO & CO
FOES | BETTER DEAD THAN RED
ENAGEMENT | OPEN

​

After the near loss of the sole person clutched close to her chest, Strasza had hoped to have been given a moment to breathe- a reprieve for the mind trapped and bound within the cybernetic frame she had learned to live with. Stockholm Syndrome, of sorts, maybe, is what it all came down to at this point. Whatever hope she had had quickly been quashed, though, the near-instant she had been called from the doctor's bedside to attend the briefing for this world's invasion. She didn't get time to grieve Mav. She didn't get time to process and come to terms with the fact the doc had nearly been killed, either. There was never any time for such a thing.​

​

Bottle it and keep moving.​

​

Pray the glass didn't shatter and shred through everything close when it finally exploded.​

​

That was the rhythm.​

​

But what remained of her troopers needed her here and now, not scattered and distant, lost in the depths of her regrets and the oozing wounds still festering beneath the surface. They had been given their assignment. Bring down the shield generators. It was simple enough in theory, wasn't it? Infiltrate the base and disable the barriers barring others from passing through with the necessary siege equipment and bodies to overrun it. However, the pockets of heavy S-IMP resistance and the droids posed a problem, even for a tireless workhorse of a specialist squad. Nothing was ever quite so simple. She knew it. They knew it.​

​

All the same, even as they had been discovered and engaged by Sith troopers, there was radio silence between them all. There wasn't anything that needed to be said. No orders to be given. Those with her who remained knew the task and the purpose for this little excursion. And they were more than capable of making decisions and handling things on their own; she didn't need to give them orders to gun down any Sith Imperials who came their way.​

​

Screeching plasma hammered against the trunk of the sprawling, alien tree she pressed her frame against, bracing against the impacts of the explosive rounds launched with little regard to carpet the jungle floor. Splinters collided with the side of her helmet, smacking with nothing more than irritating force. Deft fingers slid more shells back into the barrel of her scattergun and quicker hands racked it. Shotguns in an environment where one's foes could never predict where she was coming from were something of an advantage, to say the least.​

​

Major dipped out from behind cover as a break in the sharp odor of hissing tibanna penetrated her senses. A reprieve; a moment between tidal waves of compressed death. Those firing in their direction to pin them down had to reload, eventually. And it was then, she took her charge, in that moment.​

“I-t’s gonna b-b-be ok..dar-lin.”

The staggered, choking words called back from the flank of her awareness, dialing in on the slew of emotions she felt as she vaulted forward and pumped back to forcibly relieve half a Sith Imperial soldier's torso from duty. She didn't hear his yelp of surprise or the wail of agony that lodged in his throat, strangled by the instant shock. Before the others clustered with him had a moment to raise their blasters, the Watchmen descended upon them as ravenous dogs ushered by the thundering squall of slug rain. A slaughterhouse was left in their wake. Mangled, smoking bodies left twisted inside out and exposed on the steaming floor.​

​

Noel turned her attention to the glinting building in the distance, gazing beyond the trails of red rushing down the view of her visor. Soundlessly, she pushed off, moving their position up. ​

​

Sixteen boots thumped into line behind her, keeping pace.​

​

There was work to be done.​

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Opposition: Saket Keane
Observer/Hostage: Valen​

It was just his luck that the situation started getting more complicated. The appearance of Valen did get a raised brow from the Jedi Knight. A touch of curiosity that swiftly shifted into a frown. "The Concord are rather bad when it comes to helping people. So I can’t blame you for leaving them." He mused, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small spray bottle of bacta, slowly applying it to his burned palm as the former Jedi explained his presence here. Letting out a barely audible sigh of relief as the pain began to fade due to the swift acting medical spray.

Placing the spray back in his satchel, the Jedi raised his undamaged hand, finger pointing upwards to imply he would like to interject. "While I totally get wanting to find answers and being frustrated." He said, nodding once, certainly sympathetic to Valen's plight. Those same notes of honesty easily read in his voice and presence in the Force. "The Empire is really more about helping itself over helping others."

He waved a hand dismissively. "But it is your life. Do as you please. Your actions, and the consequences of them are your own." His mind harkened back to the tale of Ulric Qel-Droma. How he was corrupted by the Krath of Empress Teta. How when his allies showed up to rescue him. He refused them, having already been seduced by Aleema Keto. But instead of contesting it, they left. They left because it was Ulic's decision to stay despite the wisdom of his peers and loved ones. It was Ulic's decision to embrace the dark side of the Force and to suffer the consequences. They knew it, and they let him fall. In the end, it was Ulic's redemption, his determination to claw out of the darkness, that brought victory to the Jedi and saved the galaxy from the Krath and the Sith.

So sometimes, one just had to let people choose their paths. No matter how much you disagreed with them. That was the wisdom that Aaran had learned from such texts.

"I hope you find the answers you're looking for. If the Empire cant help you, come to Coruscant. We'll be happy to have you."

Turning his attention back to Saket, his undamaged hand opened the top of the satchel, allowing the Sith to get a clear look inside, revealing various metal spheres and some form of wooden shape hidden at the bottom of the bag. "All I got on me are Glop and Ion charges. No good at hurting anyone. But more than enough to wreck a superweapon." He gave the slightest shrug. "I didn’t tell my friends I was up to this because they worry a lot. Don’t want to stress them out even more."

Closing the satchel again, he pursed his lips. "And I think you're smart enough to logic it out now that I'm not here to hurt anyone. That's why you should trust me."

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
​

​

Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Perl 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
​

​

Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Perl 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

"This isn't a date. I'm holding you hostage!" She exploded, a wave of indignation emanating from her form. The saber that had been held almost lackadaisically snapped back to position in front of her, the girl making a show of jabbing it way in a an unspoken point.

"I have complete control of this facility. Your men aren't getting in without damaging its systems, which is the opposite of what you want. I am the only one that can unjam the locks to let you out. You're trapped. You don't even have a weapon, you only have-- hair," she gestured wildly, her expression pulling into an awkward grimace at her final word.

Well. He did!

She leaned forward, still unable to keep still as she switched the elbows she leaned against multiple times. "I'm not angry, I'm--... ... pissed," she grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly as she ate her own words. She pursed her lips, her expression narrowing at the jedi that sat there with far too much confidence given his situration.

Didn't he know how bad he was in for right now? Keep him talking.

She closed the saber and crossed her arms fully, leaning back. "How can you love a sith and then go on to condemn them, it doesn't make sense."

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Var Koon | Tantalus | Jivim Vaak
ENEMIES | TSE | EE | Onrai | Ren-Hua Mant | Seela Leini


NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THIRD FLEET

"STRIKE, STRIKE AGAIN. THEY'RE NOT DEAD YET."

​

The Captain opened his eyes. He had missed a few minutes of the battle, but it was fine. While his subordinates did not trust him, he did trust them. They were veterans of the war, expert at bringing death to their enemies. The crew was comprised of selected veterans who had seen five different battlefields, and were marked for promotion. Gallius was personnaly choosing the bridge crew, and delegated the selection of the other officers to his lieutenants. Gallius was sure a demanding and unfriendly superior, foolhardy and sometimes daredevilish, but he was talented and cared about his soldiers. Never would have he asked something he refused to do himself, and he often did these things himself. Example was the best way of inspire courage and lead the troops to hell... and never back.

Orcana stiffened his attitude, and walked to the observation pane, quickly noticing some tactical flaws in the Imperial or Sith deployment. He asked for corrections, then ordered the Third Fleet and the assault task force to fly past the station. The Pride of the Emperor and the rest of the cruisers formed a defence curtain supported by the Escoltas. As the formation perfected itself, the intercom blinked and Gallius opened the transmission.

"Captain Orcana sir, this is Razor 5, Razor Squadron has successfully disembarked from the Pride and is now attached to the objective. Escort is Oscar-Mike, proceeding with mission. Over." The stern voice of Razor's Second Lieutenant echoed throughout the bridge, and faded, slowly distored by interferences.

The Captain had the communication line cleaned, then answered with few, selected words.

"Razor Squadron, this is Captain Orcana. Report received loud and clear. You are free to roam the defensive curtain and engage enemy bombers at will. Make sure to answer quickly to our demands. Out."

Jivim Vaak was a good man. His qualifications were high, his military file flawless. Shortly after the Oben operation, Gallius had requested the Squadron to be transferred to his ship, replacing the previous squadron, relegated to patrol missions over Nirauan. Although he didn't have the time to converse at length with him, Gallius knew Vaak was trustworthy and his pilot abilities were unquestionnable. The Captain would not have chosen him otherwise. However, he genuinely needed to create some kind of relation with him, know him better and be known. From that point onwards, the two officers would start to respect and trust each other. Nothing else than pure respect and comprehension. This was how military relations worked in the mind of Gallius.

"YOU MUST REALISE, YOU ARE DOOMED
"

Grand Admiral Rausgeber came in as the first cargos were docking onto the battered space station. Stossjaegers and Kaleesh alike were going to go on a rampage, their united expertise and fury unmatched. No serious Sith opposition had been encountered yet, and Gallius was confident the station would soon fall into their hands. While he made sure the battle was going well, he tried to locate Javelin. His Harrower-class cruiser was nowhere in sight, and the Captain was forced to interrupt his researchs when he received a direct order to join a flottilla of Petards and head to the Sith armada's bulk, the Sith dreadnoughts.

This was not an order Gallius was surprised to receive. After all, he was known for his near-suicidal actions that his crew gladly followed. Flying right into the heart of the Sith armada was something he had done previously, and that he would gladly do again. Where was the issue ? He could bring victory to the Empire or die for it trying. He saw that as a win-win dilemma.

Gathering the fleet around the Pride of the Emperor, Gallius abandonned the defenceless cargos to their fate. The curtain was gone, replaced with a speartip intended to pierce the Sith's heart. In total, thirteen cruisers of varying classes, three Escolta-class Frigates and fifteen corvettes joined the Petards's fleet, and the amount of ship ready to strike was nearing the fifties. Fast ships had been chosen for that onslaught, because the amount of time in which the Sith would react was going to be the strumbling block of the strategy. Rausgeber had made clear his fleet would divert the attention of the Sith armada, but Gallius was lucid : the Sith would give them a tough brawl.

The strategy was quickly explained to every commander preparing for the flanking maneuver. Going as fast as possible, the speartip would fly past the dreadnoughts and pierce their line of battle, only aiming for the engines or bridges. Order was given to abandon the damaged comrades as their sacrifice would buy the time necessary for the others to escape. Gallius made clear his intent to ram an enemy battleship and overload his engines if he understood no other possibility was given. Many officers agreed on that extreme and desperate tactic of last resort.

"SLICE THEIR THROATS"
​

The speartip began his attack run. The Pride of the Emperor led the charge, his officer eager to get revenge from the dreadnoughts that had so badly mauled his vessel above Bastion. Quickly, the fleet reached the security speed, but Gallius ordered to deactivate the security valves and accelerate more. He knew his ship would handle. As the ships reached the engagement zone, volleys started flying. The shields held, and the few Sith cruisers still on that side of the battlefield were rapidly silenced, not even slowing the advance of the Petards and their escort fleet. Soon they were at firing range of the battlecruisers, and Gallius gave the order to open fire at will. Two dreadnoughts were designated as priority targets, and a group of Petards flew towards them, shielded by a small corvette.

Aiming for the reactors as ordered, the corvette opened fire, and the Petards threw themselves towards the engines. At close distance, the corvete cancelled its attack run, flew backwards, and rushed towards the bulk of the imperial attack force. The other battleship suffered the same attack, but the Pride of the Emperor shielded the Petards. Exchanging volleys after broadsides, the two capital ships refused to back down, and returned blows for blows. At the moment the Cuirassier's shields suffered their first anomaly, Gallius smiled cockily. The two ships had gotten closer and closer as the fight raged on, and Gallius unveiled the Petards at point-blank range. They rushed to the engines, and buried themselves in the hull.

The rest of the battlefield looked like dozens of comets had striked the Sith, not sparing a single battleship. They were almost all hit by a squadron of Petards, near the engines or the bridge. Some rockets malfunctionned and did hit a random place of the hull, but the sheer amount of Petards and their close proximity to the battleships when starting their run meant the success was maximal. The Imperial vessels were already fleeing the dreadnoughts, the agility of the small craft making the catching task near impossible amidst the explosions and critical system failures. Gallius rallied the imperial survivors, and they began to build their speed up again, putting the most great distance possible between them and the Sith dreadnoughts, and joining Rausgeber's fleet.

​

Although the exact losses and success of the imperial run was not known, Gallius was proud of the onslaught. In a couple of minutes, the fleet had rearranged itself and striked through the heart of the Sith armada, effectively damaging several capital ships, and more importantly, making room for Rausgeber's own attack. The battle was going well, and Gallius authorised himself a mocking sentence, one of his few pleasures.

"For Zart's sake, we sliced their damn throats wide and ripped their ships. Who dare oppose our might ?"