Invasion Darkness Falls // NIO Invasion of TSE held Bastion

[Avernus]

// A V E R N U S //
// L O R D _ O F _ T H E _ G A M E //
// Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //
// RAVELIN CITY, THREE KILOMETERS OFF LZ //
// D E S T R O Y _ T H E _ T H R O N E //
// T E R R I B L E _ L I E //

“The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.”
​

Golden plasma retreated back into the hilt of Avernus' lightsaber with a sharp screech. The cauterized, dismembered remains of the emplacement engineers lie motionless at his feet. With a dainty lift of his leg, he took a long step over one of the corpses and plopped into a control seat. Looking over the displays, reticles, and control apparatuses, Avernus attempted to switch from the auto to manual control. Biometric security saw fit to deny his attempt promptly. Leaning down in his seat, he lifted a severed arm and slapped the hand against the scanner with a meaty whap.

A beep followed a click which released the manual control yoke. Olive extremities grasped the apparatus and pulled harshly to the right. Loud mechanical whirring filled the control room as the massive gun oscillated slowly. The targeting screen burst alive with warnings and other red flashing symbols as another nearby anti-air emplacement was centered into the firing line. With a smirk, Avernus squeezed the red trigger-like button and sent a massive cylinder of condensed tibanna into the 'allied' emplacement. The orange and black bloom upon the display that came after evoked a small, smug chuckle from the Lord of the Game's lips.

Almost immediately, the yoke was once again tugged to send the barrels of the weapon groaning in the opposite direction. Once again, the screen screamed in protest, warning the operator that their target my be erroneous. Something about that failsafe feature made this cunning destruction that more satisfying. Artificial light danced across his face as the screen burned the fruit of his efforts brightly into his retinae. Avernus brushed his hands off in an exaggerated gesture, sighing and leaning back in the control seat for a brief moment.

"Lord Havoc, what the HELL are you doing!?" Called one of the Sith-Imperial Legionnaires that had arrived to contest his actions. Twelve of them, blasters all trained on him from the other side of the now locked control door. Slowly he rose to his feet as the Legionnaires attempted to break the door open. He stretched, leaning backward with his hands clasped together and reaching above his head. A step forward brought him square with the window, through which he stared apathetically back towards his assailants.

​

With his clarification out of the way, Avernus pivoted on his heels and re-ignited his lightsaber. One hack after another, he carved into the control modules, sending spark and molten metal in several directions. The mechanical slurry of debris scattered with mercurial disregard for the rest of the chamber. Legionnaires began to fire, hoping their blaster bolts would punch through the wall and eventually neutralize the deceitful Sith, but to no avail. The lights went red, as the very stubborn hubris he'd counted on to be present began to show itself in the design. Self-destruct had initiated in response to such damage. Typical of the Sith Empire, not even their defenses were exempt from the adamant scorched-earth mindset.

"Well boys..." Avernus shouted over the waning roar of blaster fire as the Legionnaires began to understand their situation. "At least your embarrassment dies with you." With a low-effort mock-salute, Avernu's form collapsed on itself before the Legionnaires. His physical and spiritual presence were all at once combined into an ethereal soup and ripped through the fabric of space. A split moment later, the dark side regurgitated his being a relatively safe distance away, just in time to watch the massive self-destruction of the anti-air emplacement. Debris and wind tore through the space around him, sending his hair and cloak into a sudden frenzy.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a secondary backup comm device that totally isn't a contrived narrative tool. Thumb pressed the activator as hand brought the small red cylindrical device up to his face. There was a long moment of aimless radio static before Avernus finally spoke up:

"H-Hello?"

"Lord Avernus!?"

"Yeah, bring the rest of the RDAGs down."

"My Lord? The Anti-Air-"

"I took care of it."

NEW-IMPERAL PAGE CLAIM

​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Bastion: Fortress Carnifex
Imperial kitchens​

FOOLS!

The Dark Lord's eyes gazed upon a delectable meal left in the kitchen by a staff on retreat. His yellow eyes surveyed the sacrifice laid out before him with delight as he contemplated the flesh he was about to devour.

A fitting tribute to his majesty.

His ears focused on the horizon, twitching and turning like antennas intently searching. He crouched down, smelling the pink flesh: Fresh. They had done it again, his bipedal slaves.

The Dark Lord lowered his head and opened his maw to devour the sliced fish. A deep vibration thrummed up through his sternum, a sound of deep delight as he relished in his dinner. His tail seized swishing and fell to rest as the storm inside him settled into a mere drizzle of silver rain. He was contented, his hunger abated.

But then, a sound. Rizuti the Palace Cat Dark Lord of Everything seized mid chew. His shoulders tensed as his ears flitted back and forth, locating the source. He sat up quickly and turned to get a visual.

Was it time for the Imperial Belly Rub?

Nay, these sounds were of an ill omen. There was a depth to the noise, as if something vast was coming, but its footfalls made no sense. There was no direction. Smaller footsteps, echoes of voices. Rizuti bent down quickly to pick up a slice of his sacrifice before returning to his watchfulness. They were not to have his sacrifices unchallenged.

Rizuti's tail swished and flicked.

Footsteps, coming closer. Rizuti stood up, puffing his back to give a full visual of his size and prowess. He was, after all, the Dark Lord! Gaze upon His wrath!

A bipedal came within vision, his fur different than what he was used to. It appeared to be talking to itself.

Rizuti took one step back, knocking back a chalice his slaves had left for him. It clattered into the washbasin, apparently startling the strange biped. Rizuti saw his chance. Jumping down from the counter, he deftly avoided its ire. He then proceeded a fast and stealthy manoeuvre, darting past the biped by slipping through its legs.

He had escaped, the others must be warned!

Enemies, enemies at the gate!

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

// GRAND VIZIER FLAGSHIP: THE SENTINEL //
// COMMAND-DISTANCE FROM THE BATTLE OVER BASTION //
// Madelyn Lowe | CLOSED //
// Heretics and Killers //

​

Brown retinae watched from behind tired eyelids as the troopers brought the Grand Moff to her feet. The base of his palm rested heavily against his cane, a slight slouch to the left inflecting his dependence on the archaic tool. A haggard step backward made room for the forward escort, allowing them a narrow passage between himself and the door's threshold. Tyrell's gaze was as a cold wall when the Grand Moff's verdant observers met his own.

“Captain Paxxus.” ​

Captain, that was a title he'd not been addressed by in a long time. Momentarily he was taken aback, nearly confusing her snark for a genuine misrank. Heavy eyelids blinked slowly in apathy to her determined snide. At the very least she was no pushover, not losing any spirit in the unfortunate face of her circumstance. Many an individual would have resigned to a begrudging silence by now. Her resolve was respectable, as much as any quality of a Sith sympathizer could be.

“Some would say we’re alike, no?” “But I’m no traitor.”​

"Ever the loyalist, Miss Lowe. A testament to your naivety... or your fear," Tyrell retorted as he began to walk with the trooper escort that ushered Lowe in his wake. The steady tapping of his cane picked up once again, a looming tell of his presence. Besides the still sweating Lieutenant, he stopped suddenly, head craning slowly to regard his subordinate. A single up and down scanning of the Lieutenant's physical presence spoke more than any reprimand ever would.

Sliding doors out of the holding division screamed open in their wake, allowing them passage through the cold, durasteel corridors of the star destroyer. Long straits and sudden corners over several minutes brought them an eventual climax by way of a turbolift. Tyrell's feet anchored him only a mere half-meter from the Grand Moff, trooper escord looming behind him. "I hope you don't mind me taking the liberty of interrupting your solitude, but there is something I think is important for you to see."

The lift suddenly lurched as it came to stop, the doors groaned as they slowly ground against the rails to slide open. A dark room, only slightly illuminated by fluorescent lighting lay beyond. Tyrell moved forward to the center, prompting the escort to usher Lowe forward as well. Tyrell made a half-circle around a small table, flanked on either side by a chromium table. "Please," Tyrell offered a vague gesture towards the table. "Sit."

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

Market: Imperial Capital Complex, Ravelin City, Bastion
Investment: Objective I - Gotterdammerung
Portfolio: Skystas Rieve iv Tave Daboti Dvasi | Vokti Mekn iv Siarbras Naudot | Vaizdas iv Auksas | Sith-Imperial Military Uniform
Assets: TSE
Liabilities: Auteme | NIO
Stocks: IV

---

Aerarii had been present when the Sith had begun to implode.

Well, not literally. While the Sith loyalist and apostates argued and grandstanded during their convocation, Tithe had been busy running the Empire. Word of the public feud between the Sith factions had spread throughout the bureaucracy even before the meeting was called to an end. Rather than come together and unite, the Sith Order had splintered.

While the Sith pursued and duelled one-another, Tithe and his fellow bureaucrats got on with governing the Empire. Important meetings and sweeping reforms followed but did little to temper the ideological rift between the warring factions. Tithe himself was promoted to Moff and given responsibility for Sector Group II in return for his loyalty and his actions on Kalee, demonstrating that at least some good came from the civil war.

The very civil war which now endangered his life and threatened his carefully laid plan to escape.

---

Tithe hurried across the plaza just as he had rehearsed. Blaster bolts, slug thrower rounds and artillery exploded around him - which wasn’t something he’d been able to fully account for - but if he stuck to his carefully laid plan everything would be fine. He just needed to keep moving and keep his head down.

Without warning, loud propaganda began playing through the SINN broadcast speakers positioned throughout Ravelin City.

”Legionnaire, the Sith have abandoned you. They have ordered you to die, Legionnaire. Do not trust them.”​

The broadcast startled the bureaucrat - he’d been told the hijack of the propaganda studio wouldn’t commence until he was safely away. It wouldn’t take long for the SINN technicians to trace the hacking back to the credentials he’d used to access the building. No no no, this wasn’t good. And it certainly wasn’t part of the plan. Tithe felt his stomach drop further. If something happened, if a call for his arrest was issued…

Something small and fast moving slammed into the Moff and threw him into an alleyway, narrowing saving him from an exploding artillery shell.

”Defect, Legionnaire, it is a very good idea to leave a sinking starship.”​

Dazed, Tithe staggered to his feet and looked around. The young woman who had spoken to him in the SINN studio was standing before him. How? He rubbed his forehead, trying to erase the rapidly developing migraine. This wasn’t part of the plan - what was happening?

The young woman introduced herself as a Jedi named Auteme. Tithe took two steps back and butted up against a cold stone war. Without thinking he rubbed his thumb against his little finger to ensure he was still wearing the alchemised ring which would offer him protection against her mind tricks. Was she an assassin sent to kill him, or a bounty hunter chasing a price on his head?

Surprisingly, she seemed to need his help. Auteme grabbed his sleeve and began to pull his away from the spaceport.

”They lie to you, Legionnaire, you know you cannot win this war.”​

The booming propaganda broadcast through him back to reality. No, he needed to get to the spaceport and away from this chaos. Tithe shook his head again as he tried to get his bearings. “I’m, ah, well, I’m just a minor functionary,” he lied as he pulled his sleeve from her grasp. “The Sith, yes, it’s the Sith you want. There’ll be plenty around here, that’s for sure. Ah, well, good luck..?” He turned and looked for a clear path toward the spaceport, intent on getting his escape plan back on track.

”Your Sith leaders grow richer, while you die in the streets, Legionnaire.”​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: The Awakening //:
//: I was so dumb and out of time //:
//: Imperial Capital Complex //:
//: Loske Treicolt //:​

You've done enough...please stay
Put away the cape for awhile.
Just try and live for yourself
​

The Corellian heard her voice, more apparent than she had ever heard it before. Jyoti was right - she had seen all of this unravel before her in that small moment in the room she stayed in. Allyson was always at a crossroads; her hand was forced on Borosk. Dubrillion, she found the courage to begin to turn the tide in her favor, and now on Bastion, it was her time to chose. Her mission, the one given to her in the little black drive, said she wasn't going to live to see the war ended. She felt the thumb drive in her pocket; she turned it over and over again. ​

If you leave for Sith space again there's no coming back.
Not as you are
You're at a crossroads, a decision must be made​

She wanted to be a good soldier, was this what Jyoti meant that she wouldn't return from Sith space the same person that went in? The choice to disobey her orders - to abandon them lingered in her mind. The drive flipped over in her hand again as she mulled over her options. Allyson hoped that Jyoti was far enough that when things were finished, she didn't feel the searing pain of their bond shattering. Closing her eyes, she prayed to the Force, prayed to the light to help forgive her for the path she walked down and to help guide her through this darkness. ​

Allyson Locke was always a Jedi, despite all of her flaws.​

If Allyson was the smoking type, right now would be the best time to pull the half-burned death stick from her lips. She would then have looked at it for a long while as she contemplated the moments that had led up to this clashing of personalities and then dropped it onto the concrete. Her leather-bound boot would crush the ash from the filter, grinding it with her toe to put out the flame; no one liked random fires. ​

Instead of the neo-noir scene that should have happened, Allyson watched as the blonde Jedi landed on the stage. Unmoving eyes stared as the woman swarmed with emotions of their constant clashes, the game of cat and mouse they've played for so long, and the distant memories of laughter. Allyson was haunted by those same memories; she felt like she had gotten to know Loske more intimately these past several months. Thoughts wandered to how different their lives would have been if she didn't accept her mission. Would she have been preparing for the war against the Sith? Would she have found the happiness she looked for? Maybe things would have been different if she would have stayed longer on Kiribi. Why did she continuously feel the need to shove herself straight into the fire? ​

So many questions that were left unanswered to changes in time. They were paths that would have more than likely only prolonged this inevitable conflict. If it wasn't the Sith Empire, it would have been something else. ​

The ripples of the Force shifted and bent; Allyson raised her eyebrow as she watched as rubble from the battle suddenly levitated and fired off towards her. Hands remaining in her pockets, the Corellian felt the same power of the Force surge through her body to her feet; she jumped backward, avoiding the few rocks that landed where she stood. As she moved back, a smile crossed her face - Loske had come to fight. ​

Perfect. ​

Her feet landed and slid back with the momentum of the Force jump. Dust collected around her as the Force projected from her core, creating a bubble that protected her. The ground shook as the debris collided with the cracked concrete walkway. The yellow lightsaber that she had learned to associate with the Kiffar Jedi waved above her head. There was no talking to her, but what would the Corellian have said? Go away, Loske? Loske, this isn't a safe place to be? ​

I'm not your enemy Loske. No, there was no talking left between them. Here and now, the story would end. Either with the golden blade of the hero purifying the apostate where she stood or with chains. Allyson waited for her, and with a smile, she felt the foolish choices the Jedi had made. The electromagnetic waves sang the sweet siren's song to the Technomancer. She could do many things to the suit of armor; it was a walking coffin for the blonde. Allyson could easily crush the armor around her former friend's slender limbs, she could overload its circuits, causing it into a theatrical light show that would end the fight, or she could just stop her. Allyson didn't need to contemplate the choices she had; her heart still wanted to return to their friendship times. Everything she had done up to this point was to protect Loske, Maynard, Ryv, and everyone in the New Jedi Order - despite the ill feelings. Reaching through the Force, the simplistic circuitry would find itself bending and pulling at the Corellian's will. The Force wrapping around each gear strangling it as if it was a living breathing being. ​

As Allyson worked her influence over Loske's armor, she pushed forward, trying to move the gears in reverse. If she created the distance between them and kept it - it would only keep Loske safe. Any closer, Loske would continue the fight. Allyson didn't want to fight Loske, but she knew the woman probably had some pent up emotions lingering. Exhaling, Allyson looked over her shoulder; her mission would get ruined with Loske showing up. Whining under her breath, she drew her lightsaber and waited for the Kiffar. ​

"Come on now. I know you have a lecture to tell me. I don't think I've ever heard you go this long without a joke or telling me how I ruined things." Allyson didn't have time for this; she needed to get into the data tower and pull the information from there and cut the complex's security. On her way out, she needed to find Carnifex to end all of this. At the end of the day, she needed Loske to hate her enough to break their bond, if things didn't go how she wanted - she needed to be remembered as a rogue agent. Not a hero. The price of being a deniable asset. "Loske, I told you, you're going to get in my way, and I can't let you interfere with official business. I told you already, I'm not your enemy for Force sake." ​

"STAY. OUT. OF. THIS." Allyson called out to her former comrade, her former best friend, and prayed that this was the breaking point for them - that Loske would turn and walk way. ​

 

[Halketh]

user :// THE_VULTURE​

location :// SOUTH APPROACH, FORT CARNIFEX, BASTION​

objective :// OPEN_RANKS​

post :// vi​

allies :// NIO, Irveric Tavlar & THE 501ST STORMTROOPER LEGION // DOOM DIVISON​

opposition status :// OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT​

TWO_WORLDS_COLLIDE_ONLY_ONE_SURVIVES​

[x]​

doom_division_status :// 209/230 [alive] [ 63/70 ]​

The rage welling in The Vulture as he was left to gather himself against the ruined wall to his flank was palpable. Dreadful threats of horror wept from his bloodied frame, only serving to initiate a greater loop of power in his mending. Luckily, fleshcraft was one of his specialties, as blood-boiling as the pain it caused was. Such was to be expected with the price to pay from such twisting of the very Essence flowing through his veins and the world around him. Going by touch alone, he saw his wound in his mind's eye, scowling at just how terribly slow his work was. The crackling voice in his helmet revealing the destruction of the anti-air defenses was enough to stir a guttural address to his forces:

"This is VULTURE. Bring the rest of The Corps down- MEDEVAC, too."​

"Copy VULTURE, starting the descent."​

A bloodied hand pressed firmly against the broken durasteel wall he propped against for support and with another ghastly hiss, he was on his feet. The depths of his wound had been mended and the rip in flesh closed, and that was going to have to suffice for now, as he could not waste any more time on it. There was greater work for him to spend his precious energy and time on. His senses unraveled, stretching out around him in unseen presence, searching the bloodied alley and broken earth beyond for those who had fallen out of the direct fireline.​

Meanwhile, Doom Division pressed their assault, moving in divided squadrons to keep out of direct sight and flow over the bloodied boulevarde's flanking alleyways to ambush the dotting emplacements just as they had done initially. What few Sith Knights remained sparsely scattered among the squadrons served to cloak their comrades, giving them the tactical edge to get into the range most appropriate for their slugthrowers. And with each dragging minute of spanning time, those scatterguns pumped chorus of fury which ripped and tore through the opposition.

And despite their losses and waning ammunitions, they kept on. ​

"This is VULTURE. Bring the rest of The Corps down- MEDEVAC, too."​

The confirmation that support and reinforcement were to arrive rallied their morale, giving them the strength they needed to grin and bear the exhaustion finally starting to catch up to them. Once the armor was on the ground, it was over. However few tanks they had, would certainly make all the difference, and the engineers always brought more ammunition. ​

Though as the loudspeakers in the plaza began to bellow, their foes seemed to waver. Hesitation held trigger fingers. But it didn't stop Doom Divison, oh no; fish in a barrel.

"Help is on the way! Run them down! Kill them all!"​

A shrill, gut-wrenching cry of exhaustion and wrath erupted amongst the forces, unifying them to strike as one again.​

Lord Halketh fixed his mostly hidden visage towards those gathered before him, trembling in his boots at the overwhelming taxation of his disturbing effort- the effects of which were likely felt by any of the more Lightside faithful in the surrounding streets. Some awful, abhorrent corruption of The Force had been committed. An atrocity that defied the very laws of nature and spat in the face of mortal peril. "All of you reload your weapons! If you need one, find one! Assist one another!" He snapped his command, watching with some modicum of morbid delight as the previously Sith Imperial defenders did precisely that.

Janky, disjointed motions swept through the gathered troopers, washing over as the sound of plasma rifles engaging magazines echoed through the narrow expanse of the alleyway. Many of these soldiers were missing limbs and could not complete the task on their own, though it seemed their comrades in death reached across themselves to lend aid. Some notions never perished.​

"Fall in, form up-" Kezec growled, grasping at his lower gut, "-quickly." His patience was shot. It was time to get things moving again.​

Joints crackled in rebellion to the settling forces of rigor mortis, limbs contorted in angles they should not have, and boots shuffled in an arrangement, obeying his command. The sea of red-saber crested troopers adjusted their stances to something far more rigid, attentively awaiting their next order with the familiar Sith Pureblood at the front with his lightsaber in hand, and dried trails of blood painted from the corners of swollen, ghastly eye sockets.​

"We march on the Fortress, and we do not stop until the throne room is drowning in red, do you all understand?!"​

A loud, resounding call of affirmation answered.​

"Now then-" The Vulture spat, turning himself to start the march back into action at the front of his ghoulish force, "-we go."​

THE_THREAT_OF_DEATH_HAS_LOST_ITS_POWER​

doom_division_status :// 202/230 [alive] [ 93/70 ]​

 

[Agrippa]

G L A D I U S _ A C T U A L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
D E U T S C H L A N D
ALLIES: NIO // Imperator: Irveric Tavlar // Dorn-2: Ravraa Vyshraal // 19th Company: FN-999 // 13th Legion: Darth Bellum // Doom Division: Asharo Madar | Sion Alar | Halketh
ENEMIES: TSE

​

They were as massive as they were silent. The deadliest of combinations. Caught us in an ambush, fire from ahead, while the Dashade Shadow Killers from the shadowy corners of the grotesquely, massive entry way. Our charge caught them off-guard at the causeway but they had regrouped within the fortress itself far more efficiently than we expected it? Had I underestimated my former brothers?

One such Dashade brute caught me straight with his power mace, the armor remained intact but my ribs did not. Air found no way into my body. The scumbag went straight for my head but an oversized pike pierced through his back, skewered its heart and the tip nearly caught my visor. Hurling the monster out of view, I saw my savior - Krayt with the banner in one hand and...no other hand. Torn off brutally from the shoulder down. He stood like nothing special had happened.

"Get up, Agrippa. Your job's not done yet. Get this rabble together before Gladius turns to dust."

"Your arm-"

"Fuck my arm. They took it instead of Bingo....couldn't get the fuckers off Hooks." even his steadfast voice lingered.

"Hook's...dead?"

A nod.

I swallowed hard. Half of the company had been decimated in the reckless charge I ordered but not my sergeants. Now the first of the Old Guard was gone, the Old guard - the survivors from Muunlinst, saved with the price of our former Captain Belisarius and two thirds of the company.

Hooks, nonetheless. The man who had a million and one ways to cheat death. Gone, poof. No more cheeky banter. It must've hurt Krayt a lot. The two despised each other up to the point we all thought they'd end up killing each other but we all grew accustomed to it and knew it as a weird brotherly bond. Ravraa liked to believe in impossibilities but so did I.

I believed we'd all make it through. Even if it was just the six of us.

I wanted to scurry away, rush to where Hooks was and find him alive and laughing.

I liked to believe in impossibilities.

Reality is suffering.

<"Gladius Actual to all Gladius callsigns - halt the charge. Repeat - halt the charge, dig up.">

We couldn't push unless I wanted to kill off the Company before we even made it up there where our flag would fly. Was failure inevitable at this point? Was this an impossible?

I liked to believe it wasn't.

<"Dorn-2, this is Gladius Actual. I need that right flank alive and well. Kill those Dashade bastards before they rip through our whole line!" it was a near suicidal task. These monsters were as immortal as they go. One of the many of nightmares the Sith Emperor had enthralled.

<"Doom division - where the hell are you?? They're stacking more and more here. Eat the fucking concrete if you've got to but punch through the Fortress walls. We need the diversion!">

<"19th Assault, this is Gladius Actual. Sentinels are blocking our way forward, I need more of your men here inside to punch through their line. We're no shocktroopers."> I admitted. Spearheading an assault had never been our specialty. Infiltrating, skirmishing, raiding and all sorts of other forms of trickery was where we excelled. Not in the midst of the meat grinder.

<"Vidage Actual, suppressive fire on the Sentinels with the 19th, keep them busy. We'll find another way through and flank them somehow.">

"Krayt, rally the Company...or what's left of it. I've got an idea. You see those shafts there?"

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

ACQUIRE DATASETS
16th SOM Expeditionary Force "Pre Vizsla"
ALLIES: NIO // Tulan Kor Meshla Detta
ENEMIES: TSE // Cara Dorniarn Nida Perl
I F _ I _ H A D _ A _ H E A R T

​

DATACENTER TOWER,
CAPITAL COMPLEX

While Tulan had his personal justice to enact and the 16th "Pre Vizsla" exchanged fire with the Sith-Imperial defenders, Amon's hands were full with his own set of problems.

Particularly one.

The darksaber fell down - judge, jury, executioner only to hiss hysterically as it met an invisible force field putting out a fireshow of sparks as if steel met steel. Its inability caught him offguard and her blow connected with his knee. It would've snapped if it weren't for the repulsors giving him momentum with her strike.

The Mandalorian lost his footing instead and came crashing down on top of the assailant. Grappling hook back in his vambrace but not fast enough for a fully drawn punch; yet dangerous enough when his Silverhand's knuckles bloomed blue - repulsor generators stirred to life and the cybernetic punch was stamped and sent with a gravitation shockwave gift towards her center mass.

 

[Ra Vizsla]

// IMPERIAL / CAPITAL / C O M P L E X
// GARRISON //: Mando'ade Supercommandos | 403rd Stormtrooper Battalion

// ALLIES | NIO | SONS OF MANDALORE | Meshla Detta | Crius Hannad
// ENEMIES | TSE | Ingrid L'lerim | Darth Ophidia | Bel'sa'Nikto

I fight the world,
I fight you,
I fight myself
I fight God,
just tell me how many burdens left







It was a whirlwind of Stomtroopers of the 403rd being cut down as the Sith finally showed themselves, barging behind their lines as the red hiss of a lightsaber emerged. Ra immediate leapt into the immediate threat circle of the Sith, pushing forward through the ranks of his own men as they were falling to the blade. Stomtroopers, even Imperials, stood no chance against a warrior of even the lower castes of the Sith heirarchy - it was just an uneven fight.

Ra, on the other hand, was not an uneven fight.

Any Mandalorian stood his own against a Sith. Any day. The Sith spent a lifetime bending all sorts of powerful magics and "the Force" to their dominion, their will - weaponizing it. For a Mandalorian who did not possesses such an aptitude for the mystical or the strange, his only weapon was the most powerful any could claim - his existence.

His chakra.

His being.

Ra was the weapon. He pushed forward into Darth Ophidia with his darksaber and spear, slashing wildly and aggressively.

The Stormtroopers began to back off, forming a perimeter yet drawing their weapons for the time being.

"Bastion won't be the end, Sith'ari."​

 

[DK-03]

Location: Near Fortress Carnifex
Objective: Stop Ra's


DK-03 watched the fire and the screams and agony as the fire waves rippled around the battlefield caused by the opposing Sith as his visor reflected the destruction of the battlefield and he watched the soldiers from both sides moving away and forming a perimeter around the mythological duel that seemed to be forming between the Darktrooper and the Sith like it was Achilles and Hector fighting in front of the gates of Troy as Ra's moved towards his abandoned vehicle and began to take cover while the Darktrooper was still firing his miniguns at the target and anyone who remotely looked at him funny on the battlefield because he had just seen his Taun-taun friend and was really mad and furious and stuff and was really starting to lose his mind even though his opponent was like three times as powerful with the immense amount of Force displays he had given so far and the Khaleesh kept exhibiting and flexing his powers on the Darktrooper but DK-03 was like the Juggernaut he just wouldn't stop coming back at him no matter how hard he got hit he would keep getting back up because this was war and also DK-03 was like super awesome and had something to live for in the form of his metal burrito that the New Imperial Order had impounded three days ago before Hoth and it was kind of wild even though he now moved towards the Sith and dropped his minigun to the ground and


breathes

then DK-03 was lit up by all the machine gun fire like it was Scarface and then hit in the chest by a Electro-bisento which he was pretty sure was a burrito of some type or some other type of ethnic food foreign to this planet but it didn't really matter right now because the Darktrooper was pretty sure he was going to die even though he hadn't yet died and was told by the Moff that he couldn't die.

It was awful, but it was martydom.

And such was life.

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Location: Thaumaturgic Tower, The Conduit, Fortress Carnifex, Bastion
Objective: Feel lost
Allies: TES and their allies, AMCO , Ingrid L'lerim
Enemies: NIO and their allies, Caulder Dune , FN-999

It appeared she was sorely outmatched when it came to Mechu-Deru with this man...whoever he was. Then her master provided a name. Stopping her quick attempt to disturb their visitor, she decided to do a bit of research on the new information given to her.

Throughout the conversation between the two of them (which she only paid scant attention to), she focused on her new task. At least, Lord Adekos did not immediately lash out at her for her impromptu action. Coloring slightly when she was called out, she remained quiet and this would be talked about later, she was sure. Thankfully it seemed neither one of them was the kind to punish her for her stupid act. Knowing she probably wasn't going to be any good here, she just halfway observed what was going on.

Not wanting to actually say she was sorry, both of them might pick up on the sense. Especially her master. Having been clearly put in her place, the apprentice took a back seat and allowed the two men to hash out a deal.

The comments directed at her weren't missed and she almost gave their intruder a dirty look. Holding her tongue though, she decided to observe what the deal was actually going to be.

Keeping quiet was the best choice Aren could have made. Since she hadn't been entirely involved in this project from the beginning, she didn't know the answer to his first question. Though, she did have a pretty good idea of it. Her master stopped one of the technicians she had just been bossing around and he gave an answer to his question.

For some odd reason, the young woman did not feel like she was in danger. Maybe it was because she could teleport out if escape was needed. However, truly safe passage out would be nice, if they ended up on the losing side. This was Bastion though...how could they lose? If it came down to her granting this man permission for safe passage AND in her ability to do so, she would have. For Sith, both she and Adrian had honor when it came to their word.

Sitting quietly, not fidgeting, and instead was trying to figure out just who Adekos was, Aren was quite docile right now.

 

[FN-999]

LOCATION: FORTRESS CARNIFEX | IMPERIAL BOULEVARD
ALLIES IN VICINITY: NIO | Caulder Dune
ENEMIES IN VICINITY: TSE | Ingrid L'lerim (engaging) | AMCO | Aren D'Shade
FN-999 EQUIPMENT: IN SIGNATURE + LS-1 Light Sniper Rifle (2 bullets) + SBR-60x Particle Rifle (empty mag)

CAPTAIN FN-999 OF THE 19TH ASSAULT COMPANY

As it seemed, even a sniper rifle couldn't keep up with the Force.
​

The woman's speed as she evaded both bullets transcended biological limits and became supernatural - the distance between the two was closed before he could even blink. Her two swords were drawn in an instant - he knew he wouldn't have time to procure Iustutia before they struck. Instead, in desperation, he moved his sniper rifle between the swords and his leg.

The resulting impact split the rifle in half, the two shattered fragments of the weapon falling to the ground between them. The remaining momentum pushed the captain's legs to the side, causing him to stumble. As he fell, he saw the two red blades pass centimeters above him - it was certainly a lucky fall. Landing on his side, he rolled back away from the woman and rose to his feet once more. Since bullets seemed to be useless, FN-999 once again reached for Iustitia.

In a single motion, he unsheathed the blade and activated its electric current. Then, he lunged forwards. As he stabilized his position, he came to a realization.

This woman was unlike any combatant the captain has ever faced. Even the Sith mercenary he had fought on Munnilinst had some sort of notable weakness, something which FN-999 could exploit and utilize. Yes, he had lost that fight, but he had inflicted heavy damage upon his opponent before he struck the stormtrooper's artery. But this woman was different. She outclassed him in agility, arsenal quantity, Force amplitude, and now speed. Plus, from her confident stride and the condition of her armaments and armor, it seemed as if she was fresh onto the battlefield. On the other hand, FN-999 had been fighting practically nonstop for over two hours, his armor was dented and entirely torn off on his left shoulder, his armament was limited to his sword and a battle rifle with no ammunition, and his stamina would likely be approaching its limit in the next fifteen minutes or less.

With that in mind, he altered his objective. With his physical condition current arsenal, killing the Sith-aligned woman would be out of the question. However, unless she was hiding another Force-boosted trick up her sleeve, FN-999's muscle mass was still likely superior. Utilizing his strength alone, the captain's best bet for survival would be holding off the Sith agent until a trooper returned with the weapon he had requested, a weapon powerful enough to turn the tide of the battle in the battered trooper's favor. With that in mind, he launched a horizontal strike towards the woman's left torso, with the intent of forcing her to take action.

Even if he couldn't beat the Sith agent in his current condition, the captain could rally his strength to keep any more righteous troopers from falling victim to such a monster.

​

19TH ASSAULT COMPANY MAIN
LOCATION - "The Strip" OUTSIDE FORTRESS CARNIFEX
ALLIES IN VICINITY - Agrippa (Gladius Company), Ravraa Vyshraal (Dorn-02)

111/200

Pvt. ST-1131 "Suppressor"

A stormtrooper approached Suppressor, carrying a large weapon he identified as a mass driver.
​

However, before the trooper could reach Suppressor, a bullet shattered his helmet and slid through his skull. The trooper was dead before he hit the ground, the mass driver falling out of his hands and landing meters away from Suppressor. He didn't have time to anguish the death of his comrade - ST-1131 could not afford to give into grief, not when his captain was fighting a monster of a human behind the walls of Fortress Carnifex.

Dropping his cumbersome chaingun, Suppressor ran out towards the mass driver cannon. He heard the crack of a bullet's release moments before it fired - the private barely had time to duck before a sniper rifle's bullet soared over his head. Losing his footing, Suppressor stumbled and fell to the ground adjacent to the mass driver. He rose up and then reached for the weapon, finding it to be heavier than he expected. As it seemed, he would be unable to carry his chaingun any further. He would have to prioritize the mass driver with the power to save his captain's life.

Another gunshot could be heard - Suppressor attempted to evade once again, but the weight of the mass driver cannon greatly limited him. The bullet missed his vitals but hit his right thigh, piercing through his armor and causing him to cry out in pain. Still, he couldn't give up yet. He would not drop his mass driver, and he would not stop moving until it was in its captain's hands, even if it cost the private his life.

Letting out a roar of rage and determination, Suppressor rushed forwards.

Lt. FN-274 "Mad Gunner"

His machine gun was unrelenting.
​

The Mad Gunner continued to exceed even his own expectations, ripping through any Sith trooper in a fifty meter radius who dared to stick their heads outside of their cover. Still, he knew that his death was likely near. To snipers, he was a sitting duck. Once he fell, his position behind the machine gun would be taken up by another trooper, who would hopefully be able to survive for longer with less enemies to fight. For the sake of easing the load of future gunners, FN-274 kept up his steady stream of fire.

<"19th Assault, this is Gladius Actual. Sentinels are blocking our way forward, I need more of your men here inside to punch through their line. We're no shocktroopers."> I admitted. Spearheading an assault had never been our specialty. Infiltrating, skirmishing, raiding and all sorts of other forms of trickery was where we excelled. Not in the midst of the meat grinder.

Moments after Gladius's message was received by the lieutenants of the 19th, they became aware of an approaching Sith unit that did not resemble any basic soldier or droid unit. They were far larger than a typical humanoid, yet they shared such a figure. In their hands were massive vibroaxes, and stray bullets bounced off their armor as if they were soft fruit.

[Gladius Actual, this is Mad Gunner of the 19th.] replied FN-274 on the unit's secure comms channel. [We see the enemy Sentinel units and I will relay the order across the company. They seem to be exiting the fortress through the breach our company created earlier - that's how we'll enter once we blast the Sentinels into oblivion, and we'll join Gladius Company there.]

[19th Assault Company, this is Lt. Mad Gunner.] continued FN-274, switching to the company's unique frequency. [Our main priority is eliminating the heavy enemy units and entering the fortress through our prior breach - if we can pick up our captain once we enter, that would be even better.]

[As for a specific method of elimination, simply filling them with enough projectiles to tear down a bunker should do the trick. However, do NOT let them get close enough to use their vibroaxes.]

The entire company tightened its ranks and assigned targets, reloading anti-tank guns and charging plasma weaponry. It seemed as if the 19th Assault Company would finally be fighting units of the same caliber as them - a powerful breakthrough unit meant for heavy hitting and little else. The Mad Gunner's mood rapidly rose - there was no better task for the 19th. This kind of confrontation was exactly what the 19th Assault Company was built for.

Twelve machine gun emplacements, twenty-three rocket launchers, and numerous chainguns strafed the multiple dozen Sentinels looming in the distance. They stood through a severe punishment, marching forwards even as rockets tore apart armor plating and bullets ripped through their flesh. Yet the 19th still wielded the upper hand.

Despite the vastly superior durability and quality of the Sentinels, the concentrated firepower of the 19th Assault Company began to bring them down.

​

 

[Darth Bellum]

W A R M A S T E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
13th Shocktrooper Legion - Warmaster's Wrath
A P O C A L Y P S E _ N O C T I S

​

Ravelin, Capital City
En Route to Fortress Carnifex

Carnage, destruction, despair... A strange yet ironic fate to befall the Sith Empire's once shining capital that at one point stood above all others in the Galaxy, now laid to waste in the wake of vengeance and wrath from those who had suffered and tolerated their rule for too long. Soldiers of either side fighting one another, dying for pointless causes that mattered little in the broader perspective of life. In the eyes of Vexen, there was only one thing that mattered, and it was eternal war, the death of peace and tranquility, and the rise of wolves that will continue to sow the seeds of conflict. Only the strong endured the battles that come and go, while the weak were plucked from existence. It was just a matter of time before the hunter became the hunted.​

​

Vexen and his troops had surrounded and captured a group of stormtroopers who had surrendered to the Anzati, as the group of them were on their knees unarmed. Vexen walked along the row of stormtroopers, inactive saber in hand as his cold vocoded voice was heard above the sounds of battle, " Do you know what kind of animal waits for its own slaughter...? Sheep. ". Vexen's violet saber flashed to life as he swung with precise ferocity, their essence drained from their dying breaths to reinvigorate the Anzati whos bloodlust continued to grow behind their stoic and commanding exterior. His Dragoons followed suit as they raised their rifles and began to open fire on the remaining surrendered troops, giving no chance for them to be prisoners of war or defect. Blaster ridden bodies would fall to the ground as Vexen lifted the commanding officer of the group off the ground by the throat, his cold grip tightening around the man's windpipe as they struggled and kicked uselessly while having their life force drained. Mere moments later the sound of their neck snapping was heard before their body was tossed to the side like a sack of bricks.​

​

A Sith Knight had rushed his position, wielding dual red lightsabers that swung from either side enraged at the sight of their surrendered troops having been slaughtered in cold blood. Vexen raised his saber up to block the blade coming from his right while his free hand raised itself up and blocked the other side with his phrik gauntlet, throwing his arms out as he simultaneously projected a Force Push, launching the Sith Knight backward as they gracefully landed on their feet, brandishing their sabers in reverse grips. ​

​

The Anzati applauded their bravery in confronting one of the most dangerous Sith in the galaxy. The courtesy that Vexen granted such a warrior was the exclusion of his dragoons from firing upon them, his troops knowing full well that should they interfere with Vexen in the middle of a duel. His dragoons would press forward, using their thruster packs to cover ground as they rained blaster bolts from above and ground level, forcing the enemy back as their cover was compromised from getting shot at from above. Vexen would slowly step forward as the Sith Knight darted at him, staying low to the ground as they slashed upwards at him, Vexen responding with a swing down low to parry, the force of the swing deflecting the lightsaber off to the side as he circled it around before bringing it down, the Sith Knight raising both of their sabers up crossed to catch the blade, struggling to hold the weight behind the attack back. ​

​

They'd get a knee underneath them as they pushed themselves back, one of their sabers being knocked from their hands, holding their remaining saber in both hands as they seemed poise to strike. Vexen stood up, staring back at the Sith Knight as if waiting for something to happen. The Sith Knight took in a deep breath as they readied themselves, soon vanishing from existence, as Vexen soon felt a piercing pain along his abdomen. He'd glance down as the Sith Knight had teleported in front of him, having thrust their saber into him as they exhaled slowly. Vexen grunted as the saber managed to penetrate through his armor. ​

​

The Sith Knight had done it, they had accomplished the impossible and put an end to the Anzati...Or so they thought. Vexen's armored gauntlet clamped down on their wrists, deactivating the saber as he used his free hand to grab them by the throat, lifting them off the ground. The life force his lightsaber had been siphoning had prevented the attack from taking his life. It appeared he was ready to snap their neck like they had the commanding officer spoke before, as Vexen spoke, " A fine wolf... " The Sith Knight struggled and gasped as they felt the edges of their vision flash with black, soon being rendered unconscious as Vexen lowered their body with respect and dignity to the ground, a Dragoon coming up as they detained the Sith Knight and carried them off for extraction.​

​

Some distance off the sound of a large explosion was heard as a building crumbled, from the rising dust emerging a large silhouette followed by thundering footsteps. A crimson glow broke through the dust as the form of a KVX 'Yoruba' Class Siege Droid appeared, having been deployed to defend the capital of the Sith Empire as one of the reserved assets. The war droid had been making rounds patrolling the fortress, and stood between NIO and their destination as it turned and carpeted the area between the Sith Imperial forces and the New Imperials with high explosive shells.​

​

New Imperial stormtroopers would get sent flying as they dove for cover or got blown to bloody bits getting caught out in the open. The war droid turned towards the Anzati as its crimson mono eye seemed to dilate and focus, its vision zooming in on him, lines of code identifying Vexen as a traitorous Sith listed by the Empire for termination and as a priority target. The Yoruba raised its arm up, the large rotary cannon on its arm chambering rounds as it began to fire off a volley of shells at him. Vexen deactivated his saber as it returned to his belt, raising up both of his arms as he created an invisible stasis bubble around him, large 185mm shells being halted in the air in front and around him as he protected the troops under his command, those moving to shelter behind the Sith's barrier. His Dragoons knew immediately what to do as their thruster packs flared to life, landing and running along rooftops to flank the massive war droid.​

// ALLIES | NIO //: Irveric Tavlar / Marshal Zovesa / Agrippa
// ENEMY | TSE //: Anden Fancelo

 

[Nida Perl]

Gotterdammerung | Imperial Capital Complex | Datacenter
Allies | Cara Dorniarn
Enemies | Amon Vizsla | Meshla Detta
Engaging | Tulan Kor

Poking through another person’s mind wasn’t something she’d been permitted to do among the Jedi. Her skill in force empathy allowed her to delve into Tulan’s memories easier than expected, but she took no pleasure in actively viewing them herself. His brothers, murdered in cold blood. A woman who’s face wasn’t clear, but her disappointment was. She’d always had a sense that the gruff Gunny had his fair share of a dirty past. It was no secret that quite a few One Sith troopers had found work elsewhere, even with their former enemies once the Sith giant had collapsed.

Tulan crumpled to the floor with a brutal howl of lamentation, and Nida stepped back. The fledgling Sith was not yet skilled enough to focus the Force in more than one place for now, so she was largely immobile while delving into the enemy’s mind.

Quietly, she’d understood Tulan’s anger. He’d taken the fall for her crimes, and she’d effectively turned her back on the chance his sacrifice gave her. He wanted to kill her-fine, that made sense. What struck her was how vehemently he believed that he needed her death.

Soft and gentle as it had ever been, her voice drifted into his mind once more.

“You are just as bad as I am, Sergeant Kor.”

At her core, Nida knew that he was right. No matter the truth of the circumstance, Joza and her children had become Nida’s family. She’d been safe, cared for, and lied to. Always protected, shielded from the darker parts of the galaxy because it had been believed she’d been through enough. Steadily, a need to make her own life out from under their shadow had been building in her. The corrupting influence of the Dark Side exacerbated that need to an extreme by distorting and twisting her priorities. It made her believe Kaine’s lies easier, because they served to clarify some of her confusing feelings.

Nida gasped as if a noose had been placed around her neck, but the pressure against her neck was from Tulan yanking on her collar. Her eyes dropped down to his other hand which had dropped low, knife aimed to slash upper thigh. The Zeltron flailed wildly, too aware of the artery he was going for. She’d lost more than a few patients who’d died simply by bleeding out from their femoral.

It would be nigh impossible to get away from Tulan with her lack of physical strength, so Nida put her energy into trying to rotate her leg away from him as much as possible. His blade buried itself into her upper calf, drawing a sharp cry of pain from Nida.

Make your peace.

She couldn’t.

Fear surged through her again, igniting her every nerve with adrenaline. In a moment of self-preservation, she drew the Force to her and then outward in a sudden burst of energy aimed at his chest. The push propelled her out of Tulan’s grip and sent her crashing into a wall of servers, which she slid down unceremoniously among the sparking wires and blood streaming from her leg to the floor.

The sever behind her was none too pleased, dented and flickering in irritation as it struggled to maintain power. Still foggy, Nida groaned and grasped at her leg, hand drifting to the wound to try and assess the damage.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Valeria Ragal (Ingrid L’lerim)
The Red Witch; sorcerer, master spy, agent, assassin, sniper, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Thaumaturgic Tower in Fortress Carnifex, Bastion
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Tactical Turtleneck with this look | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | Stealth field generator | Holographic disguise matrix | G1 OmniLink | Actual look under the armour: link |
Allies: AMCO | Aren D'Shade
Enemies: Caulder Dune | FN-999

Background music:
Elena Siegman – Abracadavre​

The man was also trained in combat, which Ingrid also experienced from the moment he pulled the gun between his legs. She believed it had saved the man's life, to her greatest regret. The vibrosword cut the rifle lightly, and then before the blade reached the man's leg, the woman was already behind him. She cut after the bounce, and the man fell to the ground because of the previous acts, so the X-shaped cut flew over the soldier. Now that she was moving at normal speed again, the man could easily roll to the side and stand up.

When the woman's opponent pulled out that sword again, the red-haired woman already knew it would be time for her to change weapons. So far, she’s been really happy to use a normal weapon, but the metal has unfortunately conducted electricity, and the mere encounter of swords can be painful. Ingrid expected her opponent's weapon to resist the lightsaber, only to hope that the armour would not. And the man swung in her direction again.

She knew she had to kill the other one as soon as possible, or at least make him incapable of fighting. Although she had no knowledge of it, while time was Ingrid's enemy, from the other point of view, it was a friend of the man and worked for him. She, in turn, knew the soldiers would come back with more weapons, she heard the order. The question is when. As an experienced warrior, it wasn’t hard to sense and notice that her opponent was attacking again with full physical strength. Meanwhile, she is also sending a message to AMCO .

~ For now, there’s one person near the entrance to the secret passage I’m fighting. You can come now, but soon more will arrive with great firepower. Come now and hurry, handsome! ~

As the man cut toward the woman, she didn't wait for the blade to hit her, jumped back with a somersault. Ingrid didn't want to block the sword, didn't risk injury. As she performed the somersault, she put the two vibroswords back into the sword sheath on her back. By the time she landed on the ground, she already had the two lightsaber hilts in her hand, but hadn't activated them yet. She knew she had to cheat the man out of here, because he couldn't see Adrian. She slid to the wall with a quick motion and meanwhile reached out to the Force. Using telekinetics, she reached out to FN with an invisible hand. If this was the success, she tried to grab the man and throw him back with full “strength” in the direction he had come from. Back to the hall where he and his men fought with the droids.

If all goes well, she swung with activated lightsabers and rushed after the man, who had to slip at least fifteen to twenty meters further off the ground if the woman was to succeed. She didn't expect to cause any injury, it wasn't the main consideration just that the passage and corridor become freely accessible to Adrian.

~ The route is free, come NOW! ~ it was now an order on her part, a cold, military order.

​

 

[Ra's]

Finishing with DK-03

The Kaleesh approach slowly his dying opponent as the fire the smoke and the smell of blood all rise as one around the two, no one Sith or the New Empire dare to interfere, the soldiers from both sides look the two great warriors , and all of them knew, one of them would die now. What was the point of this war ? What was the point of a endless chain of suffering and fighting between fathers sons and lovers ? How many wives now widow ? How many childs now orphan ? How many brothers at arm will cry their lost Brothers after this last blood bath ? Even the Kaleesh wondered this only for a few seconds as he approach and he draw his Lig sword

"I won't forget you. "

The voice was cold and almost rude, but the Dark Trooper can feel the sincerity behind it , because only for a second it seems that the Kaleesh hesitate , but it was only for a second, because with a clear and clean movement the Kaleesh strike, aiming for the neck to cut his head clean.

 

[The Benefactor]

Part I: Battlefield Audit​

a narration by the Benefactor​

Locale: Fortress Carnifex
Intent: Audit
Post: 1 of 1

a TIE/sh shuttle roars out of hyperspace, its origins known only by the single occupant inside.
the battle continued to rage on down below, with no one taking notice to the shuttle.
anti-air missiles and other explosives went off all around, but it was clear that this ship was not the target.
the ship landed near the Fortress Carnifex and the individual disembarked from the aircraft.
what was the goal of the occupant?
the goal was to survey the area as well as profit from the carnage.
how they managed to profit from the war remained to be seen.
the hooded figure stepped, or rather floated, down to the battlefield and studied the onslaught.
"how unfortunate, the heretics and the true believers, clawing at each other with unrelenting fury."
the battle had raged on for hours and victory for either side seemed to be far away.
however, the hooded figure did admire the tenacity of both sides.
neither were willing to give up, each soldier willing to die for their causes.
soldiers like Bel'sa'Nikto who had nearly died protecting his soldiers,
and navy soldiers like Grand Moff Aut-X who raged war high above in space.
there was Darth Carnifex who was unwilling to let mere heretics steal his planet from him.
such strong people on both sides....

Part II: Fallen Spirit Audit & Collection

many a soldier had passed during the fighting, most in very grotesque ways.
whether it was a blaster bolt of a saber strike, grunts went down regardless.
there would be use for them yet, but that use to determined later.
the floating being had decided they had seen enough of the battle as a small contingent of soldiers had taken notice to their arrival.
they turned and exited the field, retreating to the shuttle once more.
he surveyed the fallen bodies around him, collecting their spirits using the Force and storing them in an amulet placed around their neck.
a whole army's worth was secured by the mysterious being.
the small force of NIO soldiers had began to fire at the hooded figure.
he ignored them, and boarded his shuttle, their blaster bolts doing minor damage to the shield panels.
the ship whirred into action and lifted off, the soldiers continuing to fire at it.
by now the shields had been raised, and nothing managed to damage the airborne ship.
it exited the planets atmosphere, and flew by several of the flagships from both sides before going into hyperspace.
audit complete, the hooded figure settled into a lounge chair on the ship and began to meditate.
"i take these spirits to protect and serve me, and indeed they shall."
the ship continued its course, its destination unknown



|Exit Thread|​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: Gardens of Pellaeon
Tags: Rurik Fel

D E A T H​

"The fire within me will always burn brighter than the fire around me. For I am Rurik Fel and I shall have my vengeance."

Words.

They were the same words he heard so many times before. Only this time they came from someone different. They came from a descendant of the long ancient, and forgotten Fel Family. In recent galactic memory the last of their kind supposedly died when the Fel Empire fell away into dust and leapt into the pages of history, their last monarch Roan Fel was killed by Darth Carnifex . This was something new. The others? It was all the same. Another wounded, vengeful soul who had come seeking payback after their lives had been upended, their families destroyed. The enormity of death he had caused was almost beyond imagining for in the modern era he was a principal architect involved in every genocide, every mass slaughter perpetuated by House Zambrano stemming back since the days of the Old Empire and beyond. Over six decades he spent killing at the side of his nephew, teaching, raising a Conqueror and that was only this century alone. For he was a Son of Maena and none could quite understand such a concept like one raised on that blasted world.​

​

In the heat of the moment as the Scion of House Fel threw himself aside and called out to the force to bless his gathering telekinetic power, such words meant nothing. The Mognoskhâskûtjontû Battle Armor was the greatest culmination of arcane and technological innovation. Every piece of the plate was hand forged and painstakingly bathed and put through Sith Alchemy, greatly hardening the Sarrassian Iron to new heights. Unfortunately for the Man of Iron that meant that an extremely powerful, concentrated burst of telekinetic energy was needed. The giant used the moment to raise his free hand and launched a crimson beam, a concentrated blast of pure dark side energy erupting from one of the amulets hidden inside. He shifted his attack towards the young Fel and moved to deliver a powerful overhead strike with Daesumnor.​

​

"You will die like all the rest." It would be the only words that the man would hear from the Lord of Lies.​

​

 

[Jain]

Theme: Omen Child
Main Objective: Gotterdamerung
Present Location: Fortress Carnifex
Coordinated Allies: None
Umbrella Allies: TSE
Coordinated Enemies: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Umbrella Enemies: NIO
Post 2: The Conduit of Despair vs The Vindicated Commander - Part Two

For every strike that missed, another connected with roaring impact and pushback. To the soldier's credit, they were strong and possessed a commendable resilience in the face of a tormenting onslaught. They dodged where possible and blocked when capable, yet they were outmatched from the get-go. They could not withstand the fire that was silently building within the Megalith forever and they would not be able to survive the black fire that would erupt from within like a primordial volcano.

Yes, she could sense it. Infringing upon her person in micro-movements with spindly tendrils and razor-sharp legs. Memories of the conditioning flared in her mind - a downpour of blood and rotten bile. Every hit, block, grapple, and increasingly destructive sound that escaped her throat cracked the barrier closer and closer to the shatter point. Before long, it would free itself if this fight was not ended quickly - and it would free itself even if the fight was. That was the price to pay for her unquenchable thirst for knowledge. The price that terrified her because it could now not be avoided, only delayed for an indeterminate amount of time. The price for wanting to know. The price for going against her love for Him.

Now, she fought with wilder and wilder swings and kicks and thrusts, asking herself: how was this person that now began to dive into the well of evil within them - even though they themselves were not inherently evil - capable of leading an army of soldiers? Soldiers who hated the very thing that powered her? Men and women, young and old, their hearts beating with bright blood of passion and belief in a cause of destruction and rebellion. How could she lead them with authority? The thought boggled the mind of Jain who remained on the offensive, her eyes of ice narrowed into serpentine slits that slowly began to shift colors.

Without warning, or perhaps without Jain realizing the entirety of the buildup, the target fell into the dark well feet first. It was only a flash of forms, faster than Jain could process in her momentary shock - moments that benefitted only the opponent. Mechanical servos gripped armor, snapping through duraplast layers with ease - a consequence of the cracks in the gear - and clenching raw flesh. Jain, for the first time since the Devil's domination of Hexix III, roared in surprise and pain and reared her fist back on instinct - aiming for a hard fist to the opponent's plated face.

Then the words were spoken. The words that made her finally realize who this was. This person, this commander, this hellhound of flames.

“You know what - call me Sybila!”​

Sybila.

Lyra.

Voi'kryt!

This cognizance had barely processed in her mind when she found herself being thrown over the shoulder of this red-armored woman, speed building as the Force gripped her with iron fingers. The cement dented from the impact, chunks of charred landscape spewing across the streets, into shattered buildings, and disappearing into the smoke produced by burning vehicles and debris. Her shoulder screamed in pain, blood trickling from the compressed and torn flesh and chipped bones - her back equally so as it strained against the armor that struggled to retain is integrity. Jet-black crackles of electricity lit up the separations in the plating, signifying the terrible fear the Megalith strived to keep restrained. The Megalith's gaze looked upwards from her prone position on the solid terrain, staring at the green visor of the woman's armor. It was her, at long last.

Three months, five days, six hours, and thirty minutes since she had cracked her husband's databases out of fear when he returned from Borosk. That long since she had read everything he had marked on this woman. The wife of the Punished, Commander of the Red Riders - now that she had this realization, the armor was almost a dead giveaway that she regretted not noticing immediately. Every minute detail of strengths and flaws and history was absorbed that day, a practical copy-paste transfer of undisputed digital information into an organic vault. Every fight, victory or loss or draw. A detailing of allies and foes. All that the Devil and his spies had gathered in secret or in the open.

One of her spouse's greatest enemies and one of his greatest threats. Not through current skill. Not through current power. But through the sheer potential within and the chance to develop both to untold levels of destructive chaos. This could not continue unopposed. This fight had to end. The Vindicated Commander of the New Imperial Order...had to die.

The Megalith heaved with effort, blasting up to a standing position with an unintended shockwave of the Force from her now armorless left extremity, an action that only worsened the wounds within and without. A useless arm now, swaying limply like a hanged man.

Turning on her feet and sliding back from her foe with a pained grunt, the Devil's favorite soldier adopted an offensive one-armed stance, one akin to unorthodox boxing rings, and scowled at her foe with a rising grievance. Her eyes had lost much of their icy luster, replaced by a slight color out of space.

"Sybila. Lyra Voi'kryt, daughter of Selma and Mason Voi'kryt," the Megalith essentially whispered with grim finality before her cadence rose to a building bonfire of anger and desperation - half-effective sedatives now with only a slight push needed to bring out that terribleness inside her. "...I was going to find my husband. Save him from your cadre of armored hounds. Determine why I had lost a sense of time and memory. Yet...you...drew my attention like a lighthouse. A beacon of shadows...in an organization that despises such darkness. I had to know who you were, why you were able to lead these men and women. But your name...it brings to mind information. I know who you are. You are Lyra Voi'kryt, the Punished's woman. And now, my keen interest in you has turned to an overwhelming genetic desire to scalp you alive and stomp your chest in. You will not...harm...Kascalion."

The Megalith charged with an inkling of the Force, heavy footfalls leaving deep imprints in the destroyed cement. Combat never made her this way so quickly. She was always calm and collected, even without the sedatives. She had only become this way when Kascalion was in danger, or her sisters were in danger. To reach this point in the face of a singular person in their first encounter...it was a terrifying set of thoughts that ran through her mind.

It was her. It had to be her. That must have been why she lost sense of time and memory. She sensed the woman and her body led her here to find her. Because of what she might pose to the Devil, a creature more than capable of handling himself.

No.

No.

NO.

There was a cry that burbled from within her as she threw the first invigorated punch towards the bit-woman who would threaten her husband so frequently and carelessly. It was mewling cry of emotions that needed to be released the only way she knew how to in these situations. She needed...to simply fight it out. A second haymaker with her undamaged arm would follow that first punch, itself followed by a roundhouse kick that sent chunks of debris into the when her armored foot connected with the street. Then came a wild series of punches thrown with innate usage of Shatterpoint, all intended for the joints and deep muscles hidden under the tenebrae of the woman. She would destroy this person, with one arm - no arms - no legs. She would destroy. Maim. Kill.

She had to. For Him.

 

[Caulder Dune]

​

// Location: Thaumaturgic Tower, The Conduit – Control Room
// Objective: Data Acquisition & Recruitment Drive
// Equipment: Adekon Nanogene - Type 1, Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi Armor (but, you know, more stylish)
// Associated Acts: FN-999 (Friendly), AMCO (Neutral), Aren D'Shade (Neutral), Ingrid L'lerim (Hostile)

Even puzzle pieces could be useful in the right hands. Adekos was not sure if the right hands would be his, or even the New Imperial Order’s, but those details were the least of his concern. He was here just so he could say he was here – at the bitter and bloody end of this latest Sith struggle.​

​

“I doubt that you need any help from me in getting off this planet,” Adekos said, shrugging his shoulders, “But if it eases your mind, yes, I can offer you a way through the New Imperial blockade after the battle. They won’t fire on anyone with my transponder codes.”​

​

Which, of course, he had. And could distribute quite freely, being able to alter such things on a whim.​

​

Now aside from safe passage, what else could Darth Prospero want? He was a Lord of the Sith, well-placed and well-groomed. Offering money would be pointless. And that was good. Haggling over figures made for dull conversation anyway.​

​

Another tremor. Soft and distant still, yet more forceful than the one from earlier. Artillery fire drawing closer. ​

​

Darth Adekos raised his chin a little as he spoke, “You’re a man of learning. How would you like a holocron? My holocron. I imagine you and your apprentice could find some use for it.”​

​

It’d certainly accomplish more than it was presently: as a decorative fixture on his nightstand. But being that Adekos clearly did not have a holocron of any kind with him, Adrian would have to decide for himself if the Umbaran’s word was worth as good as his own.​