Invasion Darkness Falls // NIO Invasion of TSE held Bastion

[Del Lovruc]

Location: Bastion - Space
Objective: Guns of the Patriots
NIO: Hiram Voss | Del Lovruc | Hugot Tyvek VII | Gordon | Detritus Ren
TSE: Melia Siari | Grand Moff Aut-X | Thaelius | Onrai
GA: Dracken Pryce | Constantine Oliva | Olen Halcorr

Spoiler: Landing Squadron 79

Cruisers

• NIV Siege Tower [Inceptus-class Assault Ship] [Command Ship]
• NIV Skytrain [Inceptus-class Assault Ship]
• NIV Escalade [Inceptus-class Assault Ship]

Corvettes

• NIV Buckler [Gurkha-Class Corvette]
• NIV Cuiraiss[Gurkha-Class Corvette]
• NIV Variag [Gurkha-Class Corvette]
• NIV Tangri[Gurkha-Class Corvette]
• NIV Sleipnir [Gurkha-Class Corvette]

​

Del stood at the helm of the NIV Siege Tower, a massive grin on his face as the battle begun. This was what he had been waiting for, what he had trained for, to get back at the Sith and strike at their heart. As he watched the battle below was raging on, there was no doubt about it and as much as he wished to be down there he had been charged with the deployment of reserve forces, 3 legions on the 3 ships of greener and less experienced troops who awaited deployment should the need arise. Around them 5 Gurkha class corvettes took position, guarding the three transport ships along with squadrons of starfighters.

Del looked up as the NIV Penitent flew past, the Pelleon-class graciously gliding through space as it began engaging the Sith-Imperial forces. He turned to his crew "Bring us to action stations. Have the ships ready for combat, glory is to be earned today! We shall show the Sith the might of the new Imperial Order!" he shouted across the bridge in a cold tone and the bridge leapt to life. Alarms across the siege tower could be heard and gunners began acquiring targets. Del's second in command walked up to him. "Sir, the Skytrain and Escalade are asking what our orders are." Del looked back at the man. "We are to hold position and accompany Battlegroup Roan Fel in combating the enemy fleet." The officer spoke back. "Sir, we are not a comba-" Del quickly cut in, a look of disgust was on his face as his XO for the second time since Prefsbelt V complained about the ships lack of combat ability. "Shut up Lieutenant Commander. Now is the time to destroy the Sith, not sit back and let others gain all the glory. Your cowardice disgusts me and I would've had you replaced if you weren't such a good logistian, now prepare us for combat."

The XO nodded, taking Del's words as a final warning to questioning his orders. The man had served 4 years in the logistics corp and was preparing for a promotion to captaining a cargo transport before it was dismissed and he was sent to serve in this hell hole after the war with the Sith escalated. Del watched him with a scowl as he began ordering the gunners to begin acquiring targets and outside on the ship it began charging turbolasers, and loading missiles with the other ships in the landing squadron following suit. The captain turned to the comms officer and spoke. "Contact the Penitent, request our next set of orders" he said and the comms officer immediately nodded, delegating the task to one of the lower ranking enlisted radio operators. "NIV Siege Tower to NIV Penitent (Var Koon). Landing Squadron Seven Niner is awaiting further orders. We have begun targeting Sith ships and are currently tucked within your battlegroup." he said before turning to Del and speaking. "It's done sir."

But before Del could respond the comms officer chimed in. "Sir, we're getting reports that Sith Imperial boarders are assaulting the 82nd." Del nodded as the information came in, bringing his hand to his chin and considering his next moves. He turned to look back out the viewport, his trench coat waving in the air as he turned and he looked straight at the Sith fleet. "Bring us to NBCD State 1 Zulu Alpha. I don't want these boarders getting around easily should they attack us. Have security teams on standby to move to any areas where the Sith may attack." he said to which the crew nodded, the alarms changed and the comms officer's voice could be heard. "Action stations Action Stations. Assume NBCD State 1 Zulu Alpha." One Zulu Alpha was the highest state of readiness his ship could go into, used in the event of nuclear, biological or chemical attack against a ship and ordered the sealing of all doors and vents with crew remaining at their battle stations, essentially creating a citadel. While there wasn't a threat of an NBC attack boarders would have a hard time traversing through the ship to access critical areas.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Imperial Capital Complex.
Tags: Ra Vizsla

Spoiler

Armour / Sabres / Wrist / Tsaisibola / Vibroknife

As Darth Ophidia made her way through the pathways that would be her battlefield, she sucked in a breath, then let it slowly snake out of her nostrils as her mind cast itself out like a web.

She felt their footsteps, heard the muffled chatter, blasterfire, returned-
Something burning.
Fear, pride. Stop! Attack, chase, a flickering light.

Around her, dust unsettled as from a phantom wind, and the lights began to dim and flicker off, as if they were desperately clinging against a darkness seeking to shut them out.

She started walking, following her feet without thought. Her hand reached out on it’s own, the gloved fingers curling as she tuned the strings and narrowed her focus. Down, forward, footsteps, flickering light, blasterfire. She wasn’t looking in the right place. Her hand shifted, seeking deeper, catching echoes and piecing them together.

The taozin amulet placed within her armour helped obfuscate her presence, yet the process of such intent searching left temporary threads hanging in the ether. And while her stealth field was not yet activated, the reflec-treated kit she wore made sensors unreliable, but not useless in detecting her.

She was obscured, unclear, like a smudge against the background.

Ophidia stopped, her head turned, black visor turned as if she had been touched on her shoulder, just as an explosion outside rocked the very floor beneath them. She could not see him, but she could feel his presence and the violence that surrounded him.

He was looking her way, and she looked in his. Green-glowing visor meeting her dull black.

Perhaps he was merely scanning the surroundings, getting his bearings. Perhaps indeed he saw her. Her hand went to her chest, into the safe, little space where she had hidden a switch. The lights above her sparked and blinked, but when it came back, her visual presence was whisked away.

A personal cloaking device was a handy tool for one such as her, especially in a circumstance such as this, where blaster bolts and slugs easily went awry. Just where she had stood, a spray of slugs slammed against the floor and walls, summoning dust, cracks and debris. Ophidia’s footfalls were light like a cat’s paw as she followed the wall, keeping her face toward him, judging, measuring.

Disguise, disorient, disrupt.

She reached for the lightsabre at her side and let the curved hilt slip into her palm. Its malicious presence waited eagerly to be unleashed.

She truly detested Mandalorians.

 

[TE-236]

Location: In Orbit above Bastion
Objective: 2
Allies: Grand Moff Aut-X , Onrai , Moon Seo-Yun , Thaelius , Melia Siari , all other TSE (Sorry if I missed you, so many other people here I might lose track)
Enemies: Hiram Voss Del Lovruc Gordon Hugot Tyvek VII Detritus Ren Dracken Pryce Olen Halcorr Var Koon Storren Oldrelae Constantine Oliva , all other NIO (Again, sorry if I missed you, the amount of people here is baffling)

TE-236 nodded in response to Grand Moff Aut-X . "As you command, Grand Moff." Gin replied.

Fighter Wings A-12-U8, J-548SD, Bomber Squadron N-34K56, and Interceptor Group 18-B, begin launch sequence, commence combat of enemy ships near the Malevolence.

Gin watched as the Fighter Wings, Bomber Squadron, and the Interceptor Group he ordered to take off launch, and started fighting off enemy starfighters near them. Gin was busy both collecting and feeding information to friendly forces, giving them the best possible tactics for combat. Gin watched as a Vulture droid shot down an enemy starfighter, and Gin was also watching their own losses, watching a Hyena bomber get shot down.

Gin received some interesting news, apparently, there was a TIE/VX Vanguard( Detritus Ren ) tearing through their fighters, and now it was heading to attack their fleet head on. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. He contacted the nearest squads near the enemy target, a droid interceptor squadron, an organic Sith-Imperial squadron, and an organic squadron known as Harmony Squadron(Moon Seo-Yun ). Harmony Squadron had previous sorties in the past, so it would be interesting to see them enter combat once again.

"Harmony Squadron, this is General TE-236. New order: engage high-value target targeting our flagships at bearing 94.543. Droid Interceptor Squadron 94-J30 and Sith-Imperial Squadron Romeo will assist you. You have your orders. Do not fail me. Or there will be... consequences. Succeed, and I will make sure all survivors of this battle from your squadron will receive commendations." He told them, as the two squadrons he promised formed up on Harmony Squadron.

"This is Pilot T-9GJ1, callsign Romeo 1, moving for high-value target. Let's get this job done, Harmony Squadron." One of the pilots said over the comms.


Gin looked through the eyes of one of the Vulture Droids, and saw a small NIO strike force headed towards Sith forces. The strike force was a couple of 4 corvettes, 6 blockade runners, 20 fighters, and 15 bombers. Judging by their route, they were headed right for Thaelius 's fleet, apparently intent on weakening it for perhaps a larger attack. "Admiral Ordo, this is General TE-236. I have confirmation that a small strike force is headed towards your location, intent unknown. Hypothesis: They are planning on weakening your fleet for a larger assault to break through our lines. The probability of this being the case is 85.49382%, judging from NIO tactics in past confrontations. Shall I dispatch reinforcements?" Gin reported to the Admiral. He could have reinforcements there quick, if needed.

Gin received news of a NIO AT-SB on the surface, fighting through their lines(Storren Oldrelae ). That wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all. He would scramble bomber and gunship support.

Air-to-Surface Support Flight 659-A3, begin bombing of enemy walker at Subsection AJ-83K.

Gin watched as four HMP Droid Gunships and two Trident-Class Assault Ships took off and head down for the surface. The gunships were loaded with Ion concussion missiles and proton torpedoes. The Ion missiles were to shut off the power to the walker, and the proton torpedoes were to damage it when its defenses were down. The Trident Assault ships held 2 B2 squads and a BX commando squad each, to pierce the hull of the AT-SB and put infantry inside the AT-SB.

The HMP gunships and Trident Assault Ships flew down to the surface. One of the HMP gunships got shot down by an enemy starfighter, but was shot down by the other gunships, leaving only three gunships remaining. They flew down over Ravelin city. Gin watched through their viewscreens at the battle raging down below. Smoke bellowed out of smoking ruins, and large confrontations could be seen happening. Large firefights could be seen, with tanks and armor moving down the streets. Smaller confrontations could also be seen happening in the smaller alleyways, but these were not the concern of the gunships. They flew towards Fortress Carnifex, looking down at the battle below. There, they could see their target, a large AT-SB firing on the towers and the Sith defenders.

The gunships picked up speed, while the Tridents slowed down. The gunships moved on an attack course, flying for a strafing run. Then, they fired their Ion missiles. The missiles flew towards their target, then collided. A large swath of energy engulfed the AT-SB as the EMP from the missiles went off. The gunships flew off, then circled back around for another attack. With the AT-SB's defenses down for the time being, they had a fairly clear shot against the giant. They fired the torpedoes, which collided with the walker.

Then, Gin noticed a damaged enemy star ship, which records showed to be named the NIV Dauntless ( Gordon , Hugot Tyvek VII ). There were Sith boarders aboard the ship, making it even more exposed as the crew would be dealing with the fight inside their ship before the one outside. The perfect opportunity to strike. "Load more Trident Assault Ships with B2s, B1s, and BX Commandos, then load two groups of bombers with ion torpedoes and proton torpedoes, and prepare a squadron of fighters for launch. And summon a squadron of organic fighters." He said aloud to a B1 crewman sitting in a chair near him.

"Roger, roger." The droid replied, and typed away on his terminal, getting it done.

"Ready for launch, General." The droid informed him after some time.

"Launch them, and direct them to the NIV Dauntless, which has been weakened. We must take advantage of this while we can, have the Tridents go first to deploy their troops, then have the bombers come in to bomb the enemy, with the droid and organic fighters defending the bombers. We will... cripple, then destroy them." TE-236 said. If he could smile, he would. Oh, he loved his plans so much.

The B1 crewman looked, as much as a battle droid could, in a way that might have been shock. "But sir! You want to bomb an enemy star ship with friendly forces on board? Why would we bomb it when we could take it?" The droid asked. Of course it couldn't see the big picture, it was only a lowly B1, not programmed for intelligence, like Gin was.

"I don't care! We must down the ship in anyway possible, attacking them on two fronts will making it unlikely that the crew will be able to recover, and that they will have to deal with two fronts of attack, and the possibility that the crew of the ship will be able to defeat both fronts is 29.385743%. The odds, are on our side." He told the droid.

The droid nodded, not saying another word. Smart, at least B1s can tell when not to question a tactical droid. Gin watched as 6 Tridents, two groups of Hyena bombers, a squadron of Vulture droids, and a squadron of Organic Sith-Imperial fighters formed up and moved in attack formation towards the ship. The fighters were busy, fighting off enemy starfighters that kept on trying to attack the group, but managed to keep them back with limited casualties, losing only two bomber and four fighters, with the Tridents being able to hold their own with their large amount of guns.

The Tridents pulled ahead from the group, increasing to attack speed. When they got very close to the hull of the Dauntless, then, used their tentacles to grab hold of the hole. Positioning themselves directly above the hull, their drills started spinning up. Then, they lunged forward, piercing through the thick hull of the ship. Their drills opened, and out marched the droids. An entire company of B1s armed with various weapons, a platoon of B2s, two squads of BX commandos, a squad of Droidekas, and a squad of EG-5 Jedi Hunter droids, as Gin heard reports of possible Sith Apprentice defectors on board, so he left nothing to chance.

The droids marched down the hallways, moving deeper into the ship, shooting at any crew members they find. However, the BX commando droids and a fireteam of the EG-5 droids broke off from the rest, headed for the bridge to attack the officers there, leaving a fireteam of EG-5 Jedi Hunter droids and a fireteam of the BX commando droids behind with the main force.

Then, the bombers came in, avoiding enemy fire. They launched their ion and proton torpedoes, firing them at the NIV Dauntless. They connected, the Ion missiles shutting off power to the ship, and the proton torpedoes damaging sections of the ship. The bombers and fighters pulled off, and flew back to friendly lines to rearm.

Certainly, the enemy would eventually target the Malevolence itself, but Gin had a plan for such an occasion, one to surely show them taking down the droids would not be as easy as a task they thought it would be.

Everything was going just swell, Gin loved it when the enemies thought they could actually win. Ha! As if they could compete with the superior intelligence of both a Tactical droid and a Super Tactical Droid.

(Edited as per the request of multiple writers. Sorry again.)

 

[Rezom]

Location: Ravelin
Tags: Vitani Azumi
Equipment: Outland_rifle with bayonet
Two Red lightsabers (back of his belt)


BAM The noise of the gunshot rang out as a soldier fell to a slug that tore through their stomach. The Kaleesh was already halfway through reloading. His position was an unusual one, tucking himself into the side of a building using its gutter, which bent after the first blast and his bodies recoil. The weapon was not a particularly impressive one to most, it was slow firing and used slugs instead of the more energy based weapons. And yet it had considerable distance, and power.

The group he was aiming at was just one of a number. He kept his comm-link on, allowing him to hear orders of nearby allied soldiers so, if necessary, he could relay information to them or get information from them. It allowed a more seamless coordination. Unfortunately, he still had issues with Galactic Basic and while he usually managed to understand it, speaking it was a bit more problematic.

Another gunshot rang, another soldier fell, this time the slug burrowing a hole through the throat. Maek gripped the gutter as it bent further allowing his body to nearly fall. He let himself slide down it, and then rush off hiding amongst the cities buildings to find another location. No words. No witty retorts. Just a slitted eye looking down his rifle at his target, waiting, aiming, and pulling the trigger.

He wasn't flashy. He didn't give off the appearance of a sith even. He might look like a simple kaleesh mercenary sniper. Simple garments aside from the skull he wore as many Kaleesh did. His lightsabers mostly hidden on his back. And since he kept his distance, thanks to the range of his rifle.

His life was war, often with other Kaleesh. He knew how to shoot, how to use the environment, how to fight. It was only recently that the force was added into the mix. As a result many of his skills were being adapted, his skill with blades was being adapted to lightsabers. However, his true skill in the force was lacking. A warrior though he may be, he was only an apprentice to the ways of the force. Still, his attacks might attract the attention of Vitani Azumi and her teams, if he wasn't attracted to them first. A sniper using a slugthrower to evade and take down just one troop per shot, over time, begins to build up. Every corner could be a deathtrap. Anyone could be hit. The question, was who would be next.

As a warrior before, he often used the rifle until battle inevitably became close quarters. It was an excellent weapon. And he questioned the reasons anyone would choose to utilize a lightsaber when a rifle would be far more efficient at the start of a battle.

 

[Cyndane]

Objective: Survive & regroup​

Location: Residential Sector, bordering the Administrative Sector ​

Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster pistol, 3 thermal detonators​

Enemies: New Imperial Order, Ursula Vizla ​

​

Her grip tightened around the metal hilt of the fallen Knight, for she truly couldn't believe it. She watched soldiers, loyalists of the Sith regime, abandon their capital, their Emperor, in the most defining moment. She would never show such pathetic weakness. No, she was a passionate Sith Imperial. And through passion, she gained strength.

The Dark apprentice took hold of her anger and rage. It spread through her body like a cold, liquid fire, one that purged the exhaustion from her body. What was left of the Dark storm crystallized in her stomach, becoming a well of power to the Sith. One she would rely on to exert her will over the Living Force.

Turning back to face the twenty-two men of her platoon who remained, Arisia spoke up. "I know that, unlike them, you do not hesitate to give your all for this Empire." She knew each individual member well. They all had served under the banner of Imperial Youth. Trained together as elite soldiers of the Sith, and now they fought battles together; under her command. Attachments were a form of weakness. All life existed to serve the ambitions of the Sith. But she could not lie to herself. The death of more than half of her own comrades brought her great sorrow. An empty, hopeless void in her proud, Sith-Imperialistic heart. "Like you, I did not come here today to run and hide. To give up so soon after a single setback." She shook her head. "No. I say we regroup with the main force, and avenge our fallen brethren." Her voice betrayed no hint of sorrow or uncertainty. She knew what their odds were, and how foolish this push actually was. Her stubborn pride, however, would not let her retreat. Turning her back on the Empire, she could never let that slide.

A few of the troopers nodded in agreement, others yelled in approval. This was the most important battle in their lives, and they knew what they had signed up for.

The Dark apprentice wanted to give the signal to march on, but her attention was drawn to a woman's voice behind her. The glimpse she caught of the black Beskar'kandar was all she needed to make a split-second decision. "Move around a couple of blocks to the northeast. I will be right behind you." The troopers, disciplined as they were, moved out with a unified "Understood Lieutenant Paro." Although they knew just as well as her how much trouble a Mandalorian could be, they had faith in their platoon leader.

Arisia's expression would contort into a scowl as she turned on her vantage point; the heap of rubble that elevated her above the other warrior clad in black. "I am in a rather foul mood today." She began, activating the red lightsaber with a twirl. Her words were no lie; it felt like her world shattered before her eyes as the image of an invincible and glorious Empire became nothing but a distant dream. "So if you could tell me who in the Force's name you are supposed to be, it would be greatly appreciated." It was also rather evident how lowly she thought of the mercenary by the annoyed tone of her voice. But the Sith was on high-alert, ready to respond to any possible assault at a moment's notice.

​

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Near Fortress Carnifex
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: The New Imperial Order | Irveric Tavlar
Objective: Assassinate

What was thought to be a mistake, even a joke, turned out to be their own undoing. The Sith in all their might and glory, a majority of them superior than their subjects all because that cursed gift they had, faced their own equalizer of men and women that once fought for them. Djorn, loyal and true to his nation, wasn’t exactly mind washed and in a delusion of the Sith being righteous and deserving of all they had done. He, unlike his colleagues, was unorthodox in his behavior. Sure, he breathed and lived Imperial ideals and philosophy, but he always had an open mind on things.

He found himself similar to the Imperator despite not ever meeting the legend himself or even giving a simple greeting via holonet. Not in terms of their background and life before committing their days to the military, but in the way they thought. Djorn read the dossier on Tavlar several times already, trying to understand the man through and through. The Imperator, like Djorn, did not trust the Sith and wasn’t content with the hierarchy of the Empire comprised of Sith Lords. Bline always mistrusted those with the power of the Force: The Jedi, Sith, Dark Jedi, and every other religious sect that could be thought of. The Grand Moff knew his history, pursuing to be an enlightened man that knew the truth instead of being a simpleton and followed the crowd. All of them, those Orders, wanted one thing: power. Even the righteous Jedi as they proved time and time again being massive hypocrites wearing a facade to appease the common man.

So why, if he found himself to have a similar mindset like Tavlar, did he stay with the Sith Empire?

Simply because of his duty and how loyal he was to it. He recognized the flawed designs in the Empire, but after all he had done and sacrifice for, turning his back on it meant everything that was done would be merely in vain. It didn’t sit right with him. Betrayal was something he did not take kindly, too. Already he had been betrayed several weeks back by a Jedi simply for trusting that nothing wrong would happen.

In the end, he could understand Tavlar’s reasoning behind all of this, but he did not condone it.

“It’s time to end this snake,” the man said to himself, as he was aboard a shuttle, designed with stealth technology, along with his team of Special Forces from the Foreign Intelligence Agency. Soldiers he could always rely on as he knew them personally, to an extent, and were handpicked by him. Their task in this battle? Assassinate the Imperator and break the morale of their once brother-in-arms.

“Sir, we’ve identified the location of the Imperator. He’s down in the trenches with his legion of stormtroopers leading to the Imperial Palace,” an agent, specializing in communications and intel and far away from battle, announced their target through comms.

“Acknowledged.”

Now all they had to do was find a convenient location to drop off and approach their target. Luckily they had to home field advantage and were in the most dense urbanized area of Bastion.

“Let’s try to land one kilometer away from their ranks. Patch me in comms with whoever is leading the defense of the Palace. They’ll be our ticket to a highly successful mission,” translation, the common infantry of Legionnaires would be used for their own advantage.

Cannon fodder. A term that disgusted him.

“Yes, sir.”

The pilot, coordinating with their communications operative, found a skyscraper that was slightly less than one kilometer from the 501st and was safe to deploy the agents. It would be a long trek, but it would be worth it.

All or nothing.

Now wasn’t the time for safe bets, they’d all have to go all in with their chips. Just had to see if the river favored their hand.

 

[AMCO]

​

Location: The Conduit, beneath the Thaumaturgical Tower, Fortress Carnifex
Objective: Preserve the Empire's secrets.
Equipment: SIB-14 & G1 OmniLink | Shield Talisman, Empyrean Gland, & [2] Jin'Pins | 6/6 Karza'Arana Darksworn
Writing With: Aren D'Shade (Ally) & Caulder Dune (Opponent) || Ingrid L'lerim (Ally) & FN-999 (Enemy)

Shaking his head ruefully at Ingrid's suggestion, Adrian continued to pace back and forth. <Not possible, I'm afraid. The data vaults are simply too large and too hardened against various threats - including EMPs. Destroying the entire facility would do the trick, I suppose, but that would be quite awkward should those savages be successfully repelled.>

As if on cue, a harsh beep from his wrist-computer and a faint rumbling announced the arrival of those very savages.

Great, just great, could the Legion not even be trusted to hold the damn line on this most fortified of worlds?

<This is too important to just abandon - but I'm not about to die for it either.> Eying the suddenly nervous technicians, the Sith Lord's subsequent command offered no room for debate. "Continue working, you may evacuate when the job is done." Turning back towards his lover, Adrian sighed deeply. <We'll see, we may very well have to bring it down. Perhaps you ought to make sure our escape routes stay open?>

Gazing into an unadorned wall as if it would somehow turn transparent by will alone, he felt the approaching presence of someone, someone who mattered. Not just cannon fodder, then, though the signature was not one he recognised. It was time to prepare for anything.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

With an inexorable groan, the thick turadium doors which partitioned the throne room from the outer antechamber closed together with a resounding clatter of thick metal bolts winding into place, locks churning as the inner mechanism slid into place. The only sounds which permeated the cool recycled air were the words of the Mandalorians and the reverberating audio from the wall-mounted monitors which played back feeds of the tumultuous struggle taking place just outside these walls. The screams of the dying, the roars of anger and hate, the ear-shattering explosions of high explosive ordnance as it collided with brick and mortar, steel and rebar, flesh and bone. ​

​

The Emperor, in comparison to the Mandalorians who challenged him, remained silent as his gaze passed over each and every one of them. His face was a mask, unchanging, and unknowable. He showed no emotion, gave them no clue as to what he was thinking at that moment. Perhaps they would arrive at their own conclusions based on their prior interactions with the Dark Lord of the Sith when they served under his suzerainty. The truth of the matter was that the Emperor of the Sith Empire was feeling... indifference.​

​

Oh, he hated the Mandalorians for what they had done. It was the fire that had fueled his grudge against them, culminating in all of the atrocities he had inflicted upon their people. Every action he had taken had been to serve one purpose, the utter displacement of the Mandalorian people and the annihilation of their cultural heritage. He had used his cunning and guile to coerce Mandalorians to act against their own self-interest and further his own, both Vilaz Munin and Koda Fett had at one point or another contributed one more stepping stone on his path to vengeance.​

​

Now they came before him, laden with the guilt of their own sins, seeking atonement and their own vengeance. ​

​

But the Emperor felt nothing as his molten eyes bore into the t-shaped visors of the Mandalorians, no emotion welled forth to replace the stark apathy he felt towards all living creatures. He had learned how to masterfully mask his appearance in the cloak of emotion, he knew how to mimic those feelings expressed by others to such a degree that very few could realize the falsity of the Emperor's countenance. But he wore no emotional mask here, he allowed his true self, that of the solipsistic murderer, to fully shine before those in witness against him.​

​

And when he finally did speak, his voice was a gravely monotone which rumbled with such malignance that it rattled the bone. "With but a whisper, the Undying bent to my will." He rose from his throne, slowly and deliberately, like the indomitable shifting of tectonic plates. The black cloak which hung from his broad shoulders unfurled to reach down to his ankles, powerful energy coursing through his body and visible manifesting as brief discharges of scarlet electricity. He took one step forward, the sound which rung out from that single step bringing with it the weight of a crumbling mountain, and then another, and another, until he stood at the edge of the dais upon which rested his seat of power.​

​

"Who are you to challenge me?"​

​

Power coalesced around his body, energizing the air around them as a sudden spark of electricity manifested as a bolt of lightning which ricocheted off of the metal floor to rebound towards the nearest Mandalorian. The electricity would attempt to find ground in that first Mandalorian before bouncing to the next, and to the next, and to the next after that. The energy which had been released carried enough voltage to kill an average Human thirty times over and liquify soft organic tissue.​

Vilaz Munin | Koda Fett ​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Location: Imperial Capital Complex
Opposition: NIO | Amon Vizsla | Tulan Kor
Allies: TSE | Nida Perl
Post #1

​

"Adjust those intake levels and keep watch. If they go above 950 then we'll have a forced shut down to cool." She stuffed the legionnaire helmet under her arm as she exited the large plaza-turned-headquarters. The mechanic she spoke to still held a look of surprised disgust, his eyes turning away from the red smear on the work floor to the doctor's back as she left. Though he was of higher rank the mechanic nodded at her order, not feeling up to giving a reprimand after what he'd seen.

Cara fell into a chair left inside the repurposed break room. Supply boxes lined the walls, their contents ranging from liquid bacta to ammunition to rations. Holo displays of the battle beamed from the main table casting the room in tints of turquoise and scarlet. She appreciated the confines of the small quarters as one by one she pulled away the gauntlet's bloodied fingers. The heavy glove was then tossed onto the table. The holos glitched then finally warped around the foreign object and Cara watched with distracted interest.

Resting on the edge of the table was her helmet. Standard edition, efficient, and not empty. Aidee, a blue ID10 seeker droid, made his roost inside the dome. He peeked over its edge, cameras giving varied quick whirs as he watched his master contemplate. Cara rose from the chair to tread around the display, her metal knuckles scraping along the edges of the table as she did. Unused to the doctor wearing such a blank expression Aidee warbled a small question. Was she feeling regret? The trooper came into the complex by subtle means, his cloaking device hiding him from eyes both organic and artificial. Hearing the electric synapses of his device the doctor tracked then skewered it with her arm. Was she sad she had to do that?

"No, Aidee." Pinching the bridge of her nose she turned her back to him and leaned against the display. The hand fell to her side and she looked down. Its joints clicked softly as the fingers spread and wrist turned. A bronzium inlay of the letter dorn embellished the top of the hand, its sheen catching the light emitted from the holos and making its scrapes and chips more prominent. Her eyes narrowed on the symbol, thoughts clouded with the years of meaning it had worn for the engineer.

She tried to give a command to the droid but words refused to form. Turning her face away she closed her eyes and breathed.

"Aidee..." her pride flared hot in her mind. It'd been cold logic that kept her focused through the years, obsession with a single goal which directed her pursuits. So difficult it was to untangle from the thoughts, those deeply dug avenues which grew to control her every action. They were still present. They still channeled her ideas into the same reservoir. But while the mind was old the brain was not. Still new, still fresh enough that Cara could reflect on the reasonings she'd cultivated through the decades.

It was time to face them. It was time to test if they were hers fashioned in earnest or the product of a mind broken.

Anxiety, the first she'd felt in years, filled her synthetic diaphragm. Had she programmed that sensation? She wet her lips then drew a heavy breath.

"...play recording 0A001."

The dutiful droid complied, pushing the edge of the helmet to tip himself out for a wider camera angle. His green eye grew bright as the holo materialized, its light having overpowered that of the battlefield display and illuminating the room in an electric green tone.

"Ah-ha! There we gooo! Hm, welcome to the world-- well, the shop, first," That laugh. Her laugh filled the cramped space. Cara didn't turn to see her, unable to face the sight of the woman directly.

"Careful, now. There we go," the holo showed the dark-haired woman holding the camera, holding Aidee, in front of her. She scrutinized unseen parts of the newly crafted droid, murmuring in the soft voice Cara had loved.

The woman retracted her grasp of the droid and the camera view bobbed, "Woah! Ha, you got it! Very good, ID10! ID10… oh that won't do. Well, we'll think of something," she winked, a smile forming on her face that could have cracked the hardest demeanor, "Now my name is Lori, remember that designation. But! Time to go meet who you were made for. Her designation is Cara. Got it?" After a pause the camera bobbed in confirmation.

"Perfect! Been a looong time since a true AI was active on Bakura. But that'll be our little secret," another mischievous chuckle. A cylindrical box was grabbed offscreen, "Might take her a while to warm up to you but don't fret, she's just a big softy--"

"Stop." Cara lowered her head, "End the recording. Please."

The holo had already paused when Aidee heard her tone. The holo then dissipated giving the room back to the reds and blues. Aidee withdrew into the helmet afraid of rebuke and to process the word "please." Cara had never uttered it with such emotion and its nuance eluded him. What did he do?

Her hands covered her face, the cold metal quickly warming against the hot flush of her cheeks.

"I'm a failure." Water slipped between the gray crevices and down the bottom of her hands to soak into the sleeves of the legionnaire uniform.

"Twenty-five years. I've just been running in circles."

Knees had just begun to buckle when the door to the break room hissed open. Like a machine the old Cara engaged, her cold presence engulfing any signs of weakness. Her eyes threw a rigid and disapproving stare toward the entrance.

"Dr. Dorniarn?" The legionnaire asked, his scarred armor suggesting he'd seen combat not too long ago.

"What is it?"

He limped forward, "Moving orders. You are to head to the datacenter and assist in operations there. You may be required to expunge the system following a fatal breach."

Cara dipped her head in acknowledgment then grabbed her helmet, keeping her face out of the white light of the hall until she hid beneath the visor. Aidee floated out and perched on the back of her armor as she joined the legionnaire.

The datacenter was the focus of a particular onslaught. For whatever reason a band of Mandalorians had been seen pointedly aiming their efforts to breach the core of the center. Cara wouldn't allow the information to fall in their grotesque hands. She quirked her head at the aggression she felt.

Ahead of them stood a Zeltron. The legionnaire saluted and Cara gave a curt bow.

"Estimated time until breach?" she inquired.

 

[Storren Oldrelae]

Location: Outskirts of Ravelin City
Task: Provide Heavy Fire Support
RP Partners: NIO, TSE, OPEN
Faction: New Imperial Order

The best part about being so removed from the conflict, especially in the role of a walker pilot, was the sheer amount of downtime that one could experience in even an active combat zone. He mainly focused the main guns, the megacaliber and head mounted devices, but past that, his job mainly consisted of pressing forward on the correct levers at the right time to assure that the balance of power and pressure didn’t cause the entire walker to collapse down on itself. Past that? He was free to enjoy the ride. Normally he would spend this scrolling through the holonet on a datapad, watching whatever the newest viral sensation was, or even popping open a book! Though that was rare, the grinding occasionally could manage to break his concentration and bring him out of his story, no matter how engrossing. One time he even managed to play a full game Ratts Race with one of the mechanics while they arrived to a location to only stand around and look menacing. This, however, was not one of these days. Instead, his eyes peered over the horizon, taking in every last detail of the burning landscape before him. A fair amount of it was due to his own handiwork, the ATSB was a warmachine through and through, and the absolute devastation it was capable of dissing out on a simple whim was something of an art in itself. Something one had to master through years of knowing exactly what type of response would be needed for each situation one would encounter, the proper exaltation of force.

All in all, he could think of worse sights to be nursing this Rishi Blend to, taking cautious sips of the hot beverage before placing it down on a small, fold out table he had placed next to the center console. Technically this broke code, but who was going to report him? One of the crew members? He was the only one that ever actually came into this room most days. Besides, Storren felt as if he deserved this.

Suddenly, the entire cabin filled with a voice.

"Royal, this is VULTURE-" Lord Halketh started over his NIO comm, turning his head towards where the tower had been toppled by the AT-SB, "- Storren Oldrelae, punch us a hole through the South tower, would you? Over."

Vulture… Vulture… where he had heard that code before? A moment passed before it clicked, and the moment it did he straightened up ever so slightly. A Sith, wasn’t it. One of those dark sorcerers. Hell, he wasn’t in the mood to disappoint one of them. One more sip of his drink before he offered his response.

<”Afirm, Vulture. Wait for effect.”> He said.

Again, the walker began to shift, rolling it’s lumbering frame to position as it’s cannons angled themselves as would be needed. Though, in this case, the megacaliber would be a bit of an overstatement. He was making an opening, not turning the area into slag.

<”Target maximum firepower - MS-1 Firelinked.”> He called out over comms to his gunnery crew, letting them know his specifications. Only the chin mounted cannons would go into this assault. And with that, the walker took one last step as if to balance itself as Storren aligned his sightlines with the coordinated spot on the South Tower.

Let Hell rain.

​

....

<"Captain, new fighter wing breaking off to intercept, eyes in the sky..."> TE-236

The amount that the walker pilot himself could do against an approach starfighter attack was minimal, and was something that he left to the rest of the crew to deal with. Normally, he would expect a short burst from the top mounted quad laser cannons stationed on the very top of the walker. In fact, this was the very thing that he heard begin to rumble throughout the walker. He reached down, picked up his cup of Rishi Blend, and took a sip. Why would he have to worry about anything other than the default? His crew would preform their duties, they would take down the approaching craft, and everything would be fine. He could go back to slinging rounds at the-

<"Gunships broke past, they're rearing around for a-">

And at that point, came the shockwave. Less of a physical thing when secluded to the electronic systems of the walker. He stood as the lights in the cockpit flickered and his HUD screeched in distress, the door to the cockpit flickered open as part of the emergency response during the loss of power. He glanced down the long hallway, the walkup to his seat, as the lights flicked off. One by one, twlighting the hallway before they sprung back to life in reverse order.

Things began to power back on, long wrrying noises coming from nearly every system around him.

<"Status report.">

<"Shields are down, weapons at minimal power, the megacaliber was still charging when they hit us. It'll take a minute for it to get back in operation. They're circling around for another strafe. We got sights of... some type of cephalopod looking craft. Landing ship maybe?">

A hailfire of torpedos slammed into the leg of the walker not moments after. The hydralics and most self regulating systems were still firing up, the walker warbled slightly. The right legs digging further into the urban landscape before suddenly remembering their purpose, shooting back up straight and pressing the walker to balance. The sight of the impact left burned and charged peeling strips of metal at the impact sight, a weaking blow, but nothing that would shut down operation of the walker for an extended period.

<"I want complete weapon control transferred to my station, disable safety overrides on the power systems, focus on getting those shields back up! All non essential crew, prep for possible boarding action!">

 

[Grigory Tallis]

Location: Lobby, Imperial Capital Complex
Objective: Secure the Lobby
Ally: Salvor Thul

​

Major Grigory Tallis nudged the charred corpse over a little with his boot, examining the smouldering body. His lips pursed together as he looked over the crinkled flesh. He tried to imagine briefly, what this enemy combatant looked at in life. The body was, unrecognisable. The only detail Grigory Tallis could properly ascertain was the deceased had been a Togruta, based on the bony horns on the top side of his or her head. Wiped clean of skin, and now caked in charcoal. As the residual heat got too much for his boot, the army officer shifted his foot and stood tall, letting the corpse roll down the stairs to the complex, leaving flecks of blackened flesh along the way. So this was what rhypalm did up close. Beautiful.

The Major, and the men and women of the fifty seventh platoon of the sixth army legion had credited themselves, marching into one of the lobby's of the imperial capital complex, and burned its occupants alive. Rhypalm seemed to be just as accessible with a flamethrower than dropped by bomber or mortar. Still, Grigory was unsettled as he strode through the lobby. Soldiers around him set up barricades, overturned desks and now shifted the increasingly destroyed Sith defenders bodies from the lobby. What got under Grigory's skin was the orders he had. To aid one Salvor Thul on his little jaunt through the bureaucratic halls of the Sith Empire. It was a task which did not sate Grigory's love of battle.

Here they were. The Sith capitol, with the sounds of the desperate defence of the Sith reverberating around Ravelin, and Grigory was sat in a near empty lobby with his men, babysitting a bunch of stuck up stormtroopers. And not even normal stormtroopers. No. These ones had to be defectors. Something which lodged itself in the Major's craw. Triators. Nevertheless, the army officer would not allow such small pettiness deter from his mission this day. There were of course, bigger games afoot.

"Death Knell, this is Guardsmen," Grigory used the designation provided by IMPCOM, "We have secured the ground floor lobby under your position. Awaiting further instruction. Over."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: Near the Pellaeon Gardens
Tags: Rurik Fel

D E A T H​

This was his truth.

War unlike anything the likes of which Sith-Imperials nor New Imperials had ever seen or heard of before. It was so abhorrent, so vile as to incite uncontrollable nausea. It was violence. Such extreme and delectable violence that unfolded when the hulking giant crashed into the attacking stormtroopers of the New Imperial Order. It was all to a degree that hadn't been seen in the galaxy in a long time, such carnage that unfolded the very moment the Shadow Hand in his impossibly massive dark armor took to the field, and his immense runeblade fell.​

​

The six and a half foot blade glowed with a cerulean fire casting a vile light that darkened each time it tasted their succulent meat. In his hands he struck them with all the force of an artillery impact their shattered bodies flew from his sword as if hurled aside by a bomb blast. It wasn't the only weapon he brought to bear against them, his outstretched gauntlet blazed with great beams of crimson fire, concentrated blasts of pure dark side energy. Whatever they touched disappeared in a shower of blood and ash. He battered stormtroopers to bonelessness with crushing blows, rockets launched from his gauntlet detonating in plumes of orange fire to consume light vehicles. He blew them apart into sacks of charred meat and melted armor with devastating blasts of crimson lightning, crushing their bodies with grips of telekinetic force and blasting them aside. Their guns spit bolts of energy that splashed over the plate, an immense storm as he took the brunt of all fire from the encroaching New Imperials. ​

​

But inside he felt nothing.​

​

The blows splashed over a suit of hand forged, heavy sarrassian iron treated through alchemy was but one of the defenses that allowed him to weather their storm. The deafening noise of battle was silenced through his auto sensors. The hud flashed alerts and illuminated the enemy positions, warning him of heavy gun emplacements, encroaching vehicles, walkers, or a low flying starfighter if one should strafe his position, his awareness within the suit was vastly enhanced thanks to its numerous multi systems, and enhanced targeting suites. The suit registered the impacts and alerted him of them yet he felt nothing from them directly. The very air around him burned, exposing those who stood too close to him as if touched by the radiance of a star. The sheer force of the coalesced power was enough to rattle the very bones. Beyond the hurricane was a storm of madness and fear. The full eruption of a mounted phobis device unleashed the sacred technology of the Dread Masters upon them, drowning minds in fear as the Death Lord descended to reap their souls.​

​

When they finally turned and scattered before him he turned towards the colossal Pellaeon Gardens that stood so close, rapid battlefield alerts brought him tactical data within moments. The unfolding conflict of intruding new imperial forces. The Shadow Hand immediately turned towards it and surged with all the certainty of the lava flow of an erupting volcano. The earth buckled beneath each stomp of his iron boots as he closed the distance, passing through one of its entry ways. There would be no doubt, no uncertainty as to the storm descending. Death itself was coming for them. ​

 

[Olen Halcorr]

BASTION, BRAXANT RUN
SPACE OVER BASTION,
Unit: Red Squadron (Temp)
Ship: X-Wing Space Superiority Starfighter
ALLIES NIO/GA:
Max Darksun Grand Admiral Vel'alari Serenity Aeson Keel Cynthia Alucard Detritus Ren Orssos-brel Del Lovruc Constantine Oliva Hugot Tyvek VII Hiram Voss
ENEMIES TSE:
Melia Siari Grand Moff Aut-X Onrai Thaelius Moon Seo-Yun

​

Olen pulled back, then hit the stick forwards, before coming around in a prolonged wide turn. More little blips on his monitor began to appear as he noted the new fighters that had been sent out by Onrai . The engineers must have been looking for a swarm fighter, it looked much less heavily armed than the Interceptors, with it's fragile frame, it reminded him of an A-Wing. Though it counted for something as the angled panels brought on a sense of intimidation and pure dread, classic S-IMP tactics.

An E-Wing pulled up to moved in to meet him as the mass of new fighters raced towards the squadron, eager to meet them in combat. Bringing his nose up to 65 degrees, he peeled away as green darts of lasers shot past him, momentarily illuminating the canopy with a green hue. The starfighter commander drove half his output to his sublight thrusters, hoping to get a good catch on the organic piloted ship, which would have much more of a chance of anticipating him. He took a brief dip, before kicking the X-Wing up and slamming it to port, going into a perpetual snap roll. His perceived ceiling became the base as he inverted and went level again, sending out a spray of blasts, landing a hit, but not enough to completely vape the target.

The two drew ever closer, he could tell the pilot was desperately trying to lose him, he pained his thrusters as he attempted to close the gap, his crosshairs, dancing in lock then out of lock. Holding the stick for dear life, he made a tight arc as his the bullseye finally rested and he took the shot, enveloping the ship in a bright orange and yellow implosion. He cut through the cloud which temporarily blinded him before he came out back into open view.

"They're on me tight, damned droids." Came a heavily exasperated voice on the other end of the com unit.

"Scissor right, Red Seven, I'll cover you."

Tagging the droids on his emerald display, he inverted to ninety and sliced past a Sith fighter, peering out to spot the B-Wing that was being hounded by the lithe, jagged frame of an archaic vulture droid from eons past. It had often baffled him why some in his squadron had chosen the long bomber. It was understandable as many had served as bomber pilots before joining the Phantoms, but they were a fighter squadron. Nevertheless, a member of his squadron was in danger and he wasn't about to lose him.

The chase made a sharp right away from him as he endeavoured to follow them. "Eleven this is Leader, do you see Seven?" He asked, as the gap between him and the chase got progressively farther away from him.

"I see him, being tailed by two of those old droids at point three."

"You see that cruiser, I'll chase em there and split around it at point nine, join me on the other side and we'll nab em."

"That's if Seven is still with us long enough to play fleethund."

"Just follow the order and slag the chatter Red Eleven." He answered, his patience wearing just a tad thin.

"Copy Red Leader."

Erratically avoiding turbolaser fire, he dialed back the throttle just a bit, knowing that he'd most likely shoot past them and end up either vaped or turbolaser chow. He came on rather rapidly on the approach as he kept towards of the rear of the pursuit, the boundless hull of the battlecruiser coming into view. Descending once again to avoid the snare of the point defence, he shot up his throttle to 90 and rerouted some of the SLAM to his thrusters to give him a little boost. The hull of the ship flew straight by as he eventually emerged on the other side, the Vulture droids in his sights.

Over his service as a career pilot officer, he'd definitely fought with an against droid pilots, while they were certainly exceptional movers, but he'd noted a key flaw. They weren't good at dealing with unorthodox scenarios. When an organic pilot was forced into an unfamiliar situation, he'd be told to get 'created', but, that couldn't be programmed into a droid fighter, if so it'd be extremely hard to mass produce that sort of model. Olen touched the stick to starboard as his HUD changed colour and he blasted the first Vulture. The second attempted to cut back to take revenge but was hit by a torp from Red Eleven's Y-Wing.

"Good shot Eleven, alright form up."

"Leader, we got a whole host of bombers, headed towards New Imperial capital ships at point one sixty, engage?"

"Ten-four, let's go get em, switch to targeting computer."

Peeling off from the cruiser, he pulled up dramatically to take in the scene. A surge of different types of bombers, all ready to wreak havoc. Switching to battle analysis on his main monitor, the blips closest to him were heading for a smaller ship. "Dewback, get me a name and com frequency for that ship." He requested of his droid, who promptly replied, the text periodically playing on his display.

<"You got it, it's the NIV Dauntless, I've patched you through.">

"Thanks bud." Olen turned up the volume on the unit and spoke to the captain. "NIV Dauntless, this is Red Leader, you got a couple of bombers coming for ya, we'll take care of em but just a warning." Hugot Tyvek VII He spoke, angling the X-Wings towards the mass of bomber-fighters that were now promptly on their way. It would be truly impossible to properly tag all of the bombers but he could get enough of them to make a difference.

"Lock targets, one, two, three and four. Lock on everyone, conserve your torps if you can."

"Let's do this."

​

 

[Republic Engineering]

Location: Bastion // Ravelin // Administrative Sector.
Primary Objective: Raid the Imperial Capital Complex.
Secondary Objective: Secure Alliance L.Z. #23 for Marine Support.
Status: Engaged.
Allies: Galactic Alliance | New Imperial Order.
Enemies: The Sith Empire.​

​

The City was burning. It wasn't long ago that the first troopships broke through the atmosphere, smashing holes into the orbital defence network, and disgorging armour and boots onto the ground. They were the First Wave. Many landers didn't make it to the ground intact, as they were shot out of the sky once their armoured bulk punched through the stratosphere. Of those that managed to touch down on the planet's surface, their passengers found themselves besieged as soon as their transport's blast doors retracted. Discordant volleys of energy weapons flashed from one side to the other, bathing their surroundings in a kaleidoscopic rainbow of conflicting colours. Death was an uncaring mistress that favoured neither the Sith nor New Imperial forces as Troopers from either side were gunned down. The same could be said of the mechanized walkers and armoured vehicles that served either side. Their smouldering carcasses were scattered throughout the barricaded streets.

Gideon was a part of the second wave, alongside the various gunships that ferried Squads of Alliance Marines to Bastion's surface. The Commando saw almost everything that transpired and felt a pang of guilt surge through his mind. There was a part of him that wished he was down there with the First Wave. Shedding blood, sweat, and tears alongside his fellow soldiers and comrades-in-arms. Sure, he disagreed with their political ideologies, as the man hated the concept of Imperialism with every fibre of his being. But, that didn't change how he felt. As misguided as they were with their beliefs, a Stormtrooper was still a Soldier - fighting for what they believed in. The Sith had Soldiers amongst their ranks too. In a perfect world - they should've been fighting together. Still, for one reason or another, they all found themselves on opposite sides. However, the Galaxy wasn't filled with perfect worlds or truly peaceful ideals. There was always something in play to complicate matters in one fashion or another.

For the Lieutenant? His hatred for the Sith knew no bounds. The Sith defiled the Core Worlds time and again. Plundering its riches to stockpile their ever-growing hoard. They slaughtered his friends and turned those that survived against each other. Through their insidious, and shadowy machinations, the Second Galactic Alliance was shattered. The Federation was torn apart from the inside out and fated to never - ever come together again. It was believed to be the Sith's ultimate triumph. Yet, they failed to consider those that survived their betrayal. Their ploy wasn't as airtight as they thought it to be. In their hubris, they allowed the spark of Freedom and Hope to endure. Thus, what was broken soon found itself rebuilding - albeit slower than many would've liked. Nevertheless, that path led to the reformation, and to the Wayward Commando once again finding his purpose out amongst the solar tides.

Vengeance would become his Polaris - his guiding star. The Sith would pay for what they wrought. They would suffer for all the evils that were birthed in their name. Gideon would make sure that they'd pay for their sins, even if it meant that he'd have to give up his own life to see justice done.

Such thoughts ran through his mind as he yanked his combat knife from between a Sith Legionnaire's collarbone. The body of the lifeless Soldier was callously discarded and crumpled to the ground. Gideon didn't see the corpse as a Soldier. Sure, it was an enemy combatant, but Soldier's didn't raid and pillage innocent settlements - or raze entire worlds to avenge some trivial offence. No, what the Commando saw before him, was nothing more than a rabid animal that needed to be put down. They deserved it. They made a choice to throw their lot in with the Sith Empire - therefore, they got what was coming to them. The rest of his Squad dispatched their targets with ruthless precision but were heavily reserved when brutality was concerned. They preferred the swift and clean takedowns or executions - rather than the overt brutality employed by their Commanding Officer.

In the end, however, the Commandos of Sigma Squad knew where to ultimately draw the line. They often chastised the Lieutenant whenever it looked like the man was pushing the limit, but as they got results and limited collateral damage? Alliance Command didn't care. They got what they needed to keep them happy. They recognized that this Galaxy wasn't Black or White and needed to be someone who operated in the Grey. Someone who wouldn't be afraid to get their hands dirty. Consumed by vengeance as he was, Gideon knew that he'd be the one they needed to fill those shoes. There was nothing else for him in this life. The very least that the Commando could do was enjoy his work while he could.

After the chamber, alongside Gideon's mind, was finally cleared - the Lieutenant ordered Sigma Squad onto their next objective. Initially, the Commandos were tasked with securing an L.Z. for the Alliance Gunships to touch down. However, they were distracted by Sith Imperial reinforcements' sudden appearance and the mobile emplacement weaponry that they brought with them. Sigma Squad was forced into a nearby structure to fight back, and that pushed back their timetable… considerably. The Alliance Commandos did what they could to keep the Sith Imperial forces occupied - but Command wouldn't wait. They stated that the shields and the weapons of their gunships would take out what the Vanguard wasn't able too.

Turns out, that was a mistake. The mobile emplacement weapon that the Sith brought with them was able to tear through the Gunship's shielding, and forced them to ground. Not to mention that there was a Sith Warrior amongst their number who was directing their attack. It went to hell in a handbasket quicker than anyone could imagine. There were survivors, of course. Alliance Marines were tough as nails, but they weren't invincible. Those who managed to pull themselves out from the wreckage were likely trying to secure their locations, either setting up comms relays or linking up with other units. Sigma, on the other hand, still had a mission to complete. So, that's what they did. They used the unfamiliar terrain to their advantage and managed to even the odds.

Gideon lost count of how many Legionnaires that his Squad dispatched. While his armour had an integrated Kill Counter - it was a feature that only his Integrated A.I. could properly access with any accuracy. Despite all of the enemy combatants that they've terminated, there was still the mobile emplacement weapon, the Squads defending the array, and the Sith Warrior that oversaw it all. They just needed the high ground. From there, the Commandos would be able to establish a kill box and eliminate their opposition in the most effective way possible. A crossfire that utilized many weapons ranging from standard particle blasters, to explosive charges, and mass-driven quarrels? There was little that could withstand the magnitude of such firepower, even if they were shielded targets.

Nevertheless, they needed to be taken out swiftly. Once this task was done, Sigma Squad was required elsewhere in the City. Eventually, they would reach their intended destination - the Imperial Capital Complex - and accomplish their primary mission… unless they were taken out in the process.

 

[Ryv]

Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Kir Dantos
Ellie Mors | Quinn Varanin

"To plunder, to slaughter, to steal, these things they misname empire; and where they make a wilderness, they call it peace."
​

- Tacitus, Roman Historian​

Dozens of hands gripped tight to the bar located above the dropship's numerous seats. Some soldiers stood, others remained seated. All the men prepared for what would soon come to be. The experienced soldier never took his hand off the blaster. He waited patiently, hand-pressed firmly to the durasteel plating utilized to create the weapon of war. Recruits lacked that basic instinct. Their weapons typically remained strapped to their side or back, entirely within reach, but not quite ready. Very few combat veterans could put their base mannerisms to speech. Yet, they all knew the advantage of even a split-second worth of time.

Ryv looked back and forth between the Alliance Commandos and his battle brother, Maynard Treicolt. Ryv's remaining hand held his lightsaber hilt, thumb pressed firmly against the activation switch. Muunilist had beaten the man, but it did not break him. It fashioned him into a far greater warrior. He saw slaughter on an unprecedented scale. He knew what it meant to win, even in the face of tens of thousands of lost lives. Borosk broke him. The dusty plains stole his hand, fractured his skull, and tore everything he thought he knew away from him. The woman he loved proved a traitor. His confidence vanished in the wind, alongside what remained of his feelings for the Corellian agent.

Truth be told, the war meant nothing to him. Once, it promised an end to the Sith. He saw the proverbial light at the end of the galactic tunnel. A chance to do away with the greatest evil the galaxy had ever known.

That was a lie.

The Sith had long-entrenched themselves into the coming future. All across the galaxy, they waited, watching the Battle of Bastion, prepared to step forward once an outcome came to pass. The Emperor vanished following his defeat at Muunilist. Long before, others turned from the Sith-Imperial Regime, choosing to either fade away into obscurity, or build a force capable of undoing all the Sith have created. This wouldn't be the end, there likely never would be. Still, it didn't matter. Ryv didn't fight to see an end to the Sith anymore. He fought to see a better life for those trapped beneath their far-reaching shadow. In time, all things would inevitably fade away—the Sith, the Jedi, their history, and what they've done in their unending war. He could only hope to ease the passage of time on the innocents of his day and age.

"Commander," a voice sounded beside Ryv.

"Yes, captain?" Ryv questioned the man's sudden interruption.

"We're approaching the dropzone. It's hot. We've already lost half a dozen dropships, and the number is growing. Command doesn't want our ship on the ground long enough to be blown apart."

Ryv sighed. He nodded and looked to Maynard. "Hear that General?" the one-handed Jedi motioned to Din. "Hot zone. We're hittin' the ground running too," he looked from the Concordian to the female Kiffar at Maynard's side. "I'm thinkin' we get loud before we land, give our boys a chance to clear the LZ," from Loske, Ryv turned his attention to Kir. "You know how to hit the ground without splatting like a bug, Kir?"

Pride swelled in Ryv's chest. He couldn't feel the typical anxiety that warned of an impending battle. Love for what he and his friends had built replaced the expected wave of negative emotions. Maynard, now a Jedi Knight, and the first Jedi General to honor the Galactic Alliance. On the other side of Maynard, opposite of Loske, stood the General's Padawan. It still behooved Ryv to think the man he'd call a brother had accepted a master's responsibilities before he did. But that feeling paled in comparison to the warmth spreading from Ryv's chest. Maynard never let him down. And he knew Kir would be no different.

Looking at Loske next, Ryv's smile grew. She was his longest standing ally, closest friend, but most of all, she was family. She became the sister to him he'd never had. The artificially created Kiffar embodied everything the Galactic Alliance stood for. Hope, strength, courage, integrity... the list went on. Her love for those closest to her inspired a greatness Ryv could never fathom replicating.

Ryv lifted his lightsaber, his casual demeanor melting away. Only once before had he adopted the persona of a Jedi Master. He lacked the power, wisdom, and experience to ever be compared to the Jedi of old, but he made up for it in spirit. He believed in what they believed in. He stood for their cause, long after they perished, in the hope of honoring their most significant accomplishments. The Jedi Knight no longer shouldered that burden alone. Maynard, Loske, Auteme, Aldric, Bernard, Oceiros, Aeris. Each and every one of them stood against the gathering darkness. They shone brighter than any star. Illuminating entire worlds once trapped beneath Bogan's corrupting influence. The New Jedi Order was his family. And it was time to do right by she who stood closest to him.

"Loske," Ryv began, a formal edge to his tone. "Step forward."

When she did, he nodded.

"Kneel, Padawan," Ryv echoed the words spoken to him. The same words he'd employed on Unity Day. The day he knighted Maynard. "We Jedi are more than warriors or soldiers. We are peacekeepers, beacons, and guardians to the galaxy. When darkness encroaches upon the innocents, we rise to ward away such shadows. Through your actions, Loske Matson, you've proven to us you're tenacity in the face of great evil. You've lifted the beaten and broken long before we founded the New Jedi Order. You're a pure soul. Likely one of the last," he paused in his speech, lifting Resolve from the side. He activated the lightsaber, bathing the small space in a verdant glow.

It whispered to him, as it always did, preparing Ryv for the coming slaughter. The sentient blade sought the taste of Sith. Its creator forged the weapon to bring death to those who used the Force for evil, and the weapon intended to do just that.

Ryv ignored the whispers. He lowered the faintly whirring blade to hover only inches above Loske's slender shoulder. "By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Loske Matson, you may rise, not as a Jedi Padawan, but a Jedi Knight."

 

[Jain]

Theme: X
Main Objective: Gotterdamerung
Past Location: Skyscraper, Ravelin City
Present Location: Ravelin City
Coordinated Allies: None
Umbrella Allies: TSE
Coordinated Enemies: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Umbrella Enemies: NIO
Post 1: Emotions Dulled

​

The night before the battle, she had awoken in Kascalion’s hidden suite in the city of Ravelin near the top of an undesignated skyscraper. The room she had collapsed in was gaudy - too gaudy, in fact, and was almost a direct contrast to the man she called husband. He had always been spartan in his attire and general places of residence, yet this was so...Sith.

The walls were coated in stylized layers of reds and blacks with uncountable gewgaws and gadgets hanging or resting on shelves. They were unnecessary. Like the coming battle. Like the entire war. All of it - to her at the very least - was useless and lacked any true rationalizing beyond the primal sensations of resentment and treachery.

Of course, she never vocalized these judgments because she physically could not, nor could she mentally resolve them. They were pierced into her neomammalian complex every hour of the day since the whole ordeal began. It should have been infuriating, even maddening, but it was not. It could not compute within her lowly cognizance. The sedatives made sure of that, and He ensured that she was always on them whenever they were away from home.

And even then, even without that horrendous green liquid coursing through her body, she could not hate Him. She could not kill him. He had made her love Him and she could not say no anymore.

​

He stands before me with the wires and the tubes in hand and hooks them into my scalp. You will be my queen, he says with a viper’s kiss.

I made you. You only exist because of me. A constant reminder that he tells me every time I challenged him in the early days. I never challenge him now.

Without me, you are nothing. I am nothing without him. I am in love with the Devil of Baal and I will rain his fire down upon the sinners who betrayed him.

She found it strange sometimes - when pieces of who she used to be broke through the barrier of pain He had built - that these memories and internal conversations rushing through her mind with hypergate irregularity never bothered her the way she felt they should. They should have crippled her with anger and driven her to skin the man alive, but all she did was nod and follow every letter that came out of his corrupting mouth.

She, along with her kin, never felt revulsion or objection or aversion when looking upon the man that forged those memories. Even though she could not verbally admit it or even mentally comprehend it beyond the reptilian complex that retained who she truly was, she was stuck in a molasses of obsequious servitude and the fallacy of love. A living figment invented by a man so reviled by the Galaxy that he had to create each follower through sorcery, torture, and other uniformly debased malignant threats. And still, incredibly, here she and her sisters stood, loving him as a husband and a brother-in-law respectively. She could not admit it, nor properly think it, but it was subconsciously disgusting - and it would remain so even as she carved through the meat and bone of her dearest husband’s enemies.

Armed with a massive Arg'garok - crafted out of cortosis metal and polished to reflect like a mirror - and draped in a layered suit of duraplast armor that hissed with every thunderous movement, the Megalith was a tempestuous blade chopping through the streets of Ravelin. A man fell before her, cursing her and reaching for his sidearm. His body made a sickening noise when the blade connected with his head. Red ooze spread from his body - and the Megalith just stared, not even blinking. Not even nauseated.

Even in the face of this brutality, the raven-haired fighter was undaunted, undeterred, stalwart, and continued to advance through the New Imperial forces with a star destroyer's fury. Blood was her dinner and gore her dessert as the mountains of dead flesh piled in the buildings and on the ground. She had killed dozens and dozens by the time she regrouped with her kin who had disappeared in the crowds.

Hildryn roared and decapitated two Imperials in a single swing. Crestienne hooted and laughed, kicking and punching and shanking with serrated daggers. Caldala grunted and heaved with effort and visible reveled in the glory she was earning, the power within her nearly bursting out from containment.

Jain discovered long ago that it was almost impossible to feel the emotions one would feel in battle when she was in this state. She made no cries of valor, no howls of rage, nor shouts of triumph. She simply swung her ax, killed, and moved on with a singular purpose absent personal connection. It worried even Crestienne from time to time.

“Isn’t this fun, Jain!” the moonlit wolf cackled while driving one of her blades into the neck of a defenseless Imperial, having disarmed him with impossible agility.

“Highly,” the Megalith responded with distinct rigidness. It was not fun. It was not anything.

She knew why she fought and who she fought for. Yet, she could not help but feel empty - shallow and vapid like an armed puppet. As stated, she was always like this on the sedatives to some extent, but today was worse than usual. When struck back by the enemy who was versed in melee or managed to get a shot from a distance, she merely sighed. When insulted by one's dying breath, she only nodded in blank understanding. She was, for all intents and purposes, a living weapon with the attitude of a salted slug.

​

And then, her heart began beating with subtle, ever so subtle, angst. Somehow, after bisecting a woman who was focused on the towering Hildryn, she had found herself in the soot-covered streets lying beneath the colossus that was Fortress Carnifex. Spires of thaumaturgic design and walls of impenetrable density thundered above her as the battle raged. She looked around her immediate area. Smoke filled the streets in a blanket to hide the battling silhouettes. Something wet covered her face - dripping onto the soot when she wiped it off with a grey-gauntleted hand. It was black as tar, or perhaps that was only because of the lack of light around her - enough to light the tiniest ember of worry.

The ax suddenly felt heavy in her hands, dragging it as if it were truly cumbersome for her, and all sound around her began to fade out into a deafness. Shattered glass on the ground and partially-empty sills provided her terrible glimpses of herself as she wandered the immediate area. Her skin was barely noticeable now, coated in ash, sinew, and spots of tar that she now saw were reminiscent of what leaked from her eyes during those moments. The sight was enough to make her wonder if the sedatives had failed? Her armor was not shattered and her back did not ache and she still could not feel, but...what happened when she blinked? What happened after she killed that woman? She could not answer that and neither could anyone else for nobody on her side was nearby anymore, from what she could passively sense.

She turned her gaze leftward to see the distant blockade leading further towards Castle Carnifex. It was burning with siege fire and mountains of soldiers were fighting - even her husband who she could barely sense was standing atop the walls, twin-blades of red and gold twirling in the air to deflect rapid blaster fire. Purple lightning crackled forth from his fingertips, splitting the sky in the air in twain. She cocked her head at the sight - confused. He was different - looked different - felt different - fought different. How had he gotten there without her seeing him? Why was he altered? How had she gotten here without remembering?

And worst of all: where were her sisters?

You do not need to best them, he had hissed as I expressed my doubt of earning my place by his side. They do not matter to me beyond their defending of you and their servitude to you. They will play their part. And you will play yours. Do you understand?

I had to play my part. I had to use them in my studies. To better myself and reach the potential I possessed. That is why he chose me. Potential. Potential to be the greatest of them. Capable in all things.

More thoughts she should hate, but cannot. He was always rude and vile during those early days - sophisticated, but vile. Jain should have killed him and should want to kill him. Why did she not want to kill him? She thought on this as she instinctively brought her ax to bear to carve through a suddenly appearing group of five - perhaps looking for survivors to kill or help. They could only offer her muffled screams of protest, curses of death, and cries of loyalty while being chopped down like old trees. Fresh crimson soaked the bottom of her boots as she examined her weapon in a moment of curiosity. She had yet to activate the ax's vibration generator and still, she had sliced through the enemy like butter. A truly great weapon for this battle.

Still, she had to admit even then that she preferred-

BOOM BOOM BOOM

A series of explosive power in the distance rocks her head and sound returns, drawing her fully awakened senses down the streets and to an armored line of tanks protecting an advancing swarm of New Imperial soldiers. She could not tell how many were there in her mind's eye, but there were many. Too many. Closing in on the Fortress. On her husband.

No. No. Nononono.

She spoke the words but only felt a sliver of their intended feeling. All she knew is that she had to keep them from assault the Fortress and keep them away from Him.

The Megalith's stagger through the streets turns into a sprint towards the armored lines, ax swinging wildly at any who crosses her. Man, woman, enemy, and even a rare citizen are chopped by the bushel in her blinding rush. Their bones crack and snap from the impact of the weapon's flat sides, and some are even sent flying into the building from the sheer force of Jain's increasing desperation. She had to stop them by any means necess-

A power within the group surged into her like a feedback loop as she drew close to the corner that would lead her to the main swarm. Falling into a nearby cover, Jain held her chest as the energy swirled like a hurricane inside her mind. Darkness, burbling at the seams of the cauldron, ready to boil over and consume those sitting at the fire. It was not an inherently evil darkness - no, it was a hateful darkness, one born of torture and suffering. In fact, the Megalith could not even be sure the one who held this presence in check was evil at all. She dove into the threads of the Force, hoping to locate the one who was so vicious inside.

Directly behind the lines, they stood. An armored figure, customized beyond the others, and clearly the commanding officer. How could such a person be a commander of those who despised such abyssal power? The Megalith could not answer that without further investigation - and the only way to do that was by interacting directly with the person while also stopping the armored vehicles.

Coming back to her own consciousness, Jain shook away the migraine and rose from her cover - ax clenched in hand - and finally turned the corner. Even through the smoke, she could see that there were untold numbers waiting for her and fighting those defending the approach to the Fortress ahead. If not for the damnable sedatives, she could have snatched the person of intrigue into the air and be done with it, but as it was, she had to fight her way to them and work it out from there.

Thus began the charge towards the lines, her ice-chip eyes reflecting the nearby pockets of fire and the servos of her armor groaning with each heavy step on the cracked streets. Ax heaved high into the air, the Megalith swung down hard and heavy, slicing open the entire front of a soldier who turned at the most inopportune time of their life. A butt from the handle knocked another to the ground followed by a twirling swing that caused those aware to either fall with opened bellies or back away to dodge the attack. A series of wide slashes opened a bloodied path towards the Megalith's target who was possibly still unaware of their approaching foe.

No time to waste. Knock them out, get out. Deal with the tanks later.

Not one to question herself in moments such as these, the Megalith aimed a hard kick towards the head of the person who radiated internal dark like a heater. Even more, up close, the armor of the officer looked familiar - too familiar even. She needed answers now. One way or another, she would get them.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

Location: Fortress Carnifax
Enemy: Lirka Ka
Gear: Armor/ Rest in Bio.

Laying down an onslaught of fire, Aerith received her fair share of punishment in response; thankfully this bulky suit was worth it's weight in protection. Several impacts struck her, pushing her back as she fired into what few defenders she could take aim at, only to find a pause in the firing for a few seconds.

'WARNING: Incoming Target Parameters altered. Missile lock detected. Evasion action recommended.'

The stupid AI she had thought she had muted chimed in her helmet, giving a warning that the cyborg was thankful to have. Someone was about to drop the hammer, and she had best prepare for it. Letting her REC drop and hand around her torso from it's strap, she found two thick metal plates from what was left of the drop ship, and seized them. Using the crush gauntlets, she created her own hand holds, and hunkered down, just as the first impact struck.

What ensued was a volley of explosive and bone shaking impacts, as Aertih closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and felt heat washing over her as if she was standing in-front of a furnace. The paint of her armor peeled away, the metal plates began to warp and boil over her, making an almost dome like shape as their structure was being tore away by the weapons fire, until it finally shattered through, the tail ends of the barrage striking her, driving her to the ground and forcing her along the ground of the bridge, leaving a wake of destruction as the final few gunners tried to nail their marks. She felt like she was being driven across a mountain of power hammers, as she could feel outside forces slamming into the hull of the suit, and only driving her further from where she had stood. To an outsider, she would look like a rag doll, being thrown about at the mercy of gravity. She felt darkness over take her as the carrying forces continued on.

The ride came to an end, either the gunners believed she had been killed, or they were focused on bigger targets now. When Aerith came to, she could register an adrenaline shot was delivered by the suit's AI from the HUD. Looking through a smoke filled visor, she was still alive, but her body ached all over. She was one lucky bastard, that much she knew. Unfortunately, luck ran out sooner or later. The cyborg sat up, hearing another wave of fire coming from what was left of the infantry on the bridge, and took the opportunity to find cover. Her head was still spinning, and a small part of her was trying to rationalize if she was alive or dead.

To her dismay, her REC had been snapped in half by the impact, and her armor was glowing red hot from the heat that it had taken on; yet she was still alive. Finding a discarded KXR rifle near her current position, she took it up, inspected it, and found it was at half capacity. Once her head was back on straight, she took the weapon, left what was left of her cover, and continued her assault, firing back at the men who had just tried to kill her moments ago.

 

[Avernus]

// A V E R N U S //
// L O R D _ O F _ P A S S I O N //
// UNDISCLOSED LOCATION //
// SIX STANDARD HOURS BEFORE BASTIONFALL //
// F R O M _ K E T T L E _ O N T O _ T H E _ C O I L //
​

Crimson gleaming of plasteel armor stretched as far as his new eyes could see. Fresh sapphire irises washed over the endless sea of fodder lined up so obediently at either of his flanks. As the sun rose above the crux of the mountains outside of the hidden complex, the assaulting rays intensified to glare upon the endless crimson fields, forcing eyes to squint and chin to press downwards. Avernus couldn't help but crack a small grin beneath the obscurity of his hood at the sight of it. Every effort given, every credit spent, every quart of blood spilled, every allegiance betrayed, it all served as the foundation for the final push: Bastion.

His boots tapped loudly against the eerie silence around him, the drumming of his stride in near-perfect sync with Darth Voyance who walked with him at his right. Bouncing off the durasteel architecture his footsteps reverberated through the statuesque ranks of devotees that dared not to even so much as twitch. The wide part in the vermillion expanse went on for an inordinate stretch before the two of them reached the steps that would bring them to the addressing stage. The loud crash of thousands of armored thralls snapping into a salute boomed across the complex as they reached the final step. A gust of wind knocked the hood from Avernus's head and sent his golden locks billowing as he turned to gaze over the legions once again.

"How many are there?" Avernus asked with an absent gaze locked over the expanse.

"Ten thousand, my lord, not counting auxiliary personnel," responded an officer who'd been on the stage waiting for them.

Avernus's smug expression turned to Voyance, ivories flashing from between parted lips. "Ten thousand," he repeated.

"Only ten thousand? We're assaulting Bastion in only a handful of hours and you have a mere ten thous-?" Voyance's words were cut short as her cheek was accosted by the sudden, gentle stroke of a thumb.

"Seku poy anu da, Pythia," Avernus addressed Voyances concern in her mother tongue, his tone a morbid amalgamation of fondness and malicious candescent. "I imagined by now you would have learned to trust me. Have I ever let you down?" His reassurance carried an oddly venomous quality, playing chess with even the most simple of social signal. Her hand harshly shoved his away, scowling beneath the slowly growing purple blush across her face. A hiss came through the teeth, her murderous expression met only by an unwavering smug smile. Avernus's overconfidence further accentuated as his hands carelessly retreated behind his back.

Avernus raised a hand out to the legions before him, causing another loud crash to sound o

ff as their collective salute ended and snapped back to an idle attention. Avernus giggled to himself with a sick amusement when he witnessed the display. "These aren't your pets, Avernus," Voyance scolded sharply. "This fight is too important, and our numbers are to slim for you to throw them carelessly every which way you please," she continued, voice growing more distant as she noticed Avernus's locked gaze of infatuation with all the lives at his disposal.

"Lord General-?" Avernus began, breaking through the sudden pause in the one-sided conversation.

"My Lord?"

"Have them all ready to go within the next two hours. We're meeting New-Imperial forces on the Braxant run four hours before the assault."

"Yes, of course," the Lord General responded. He began to shout orders through an amplifier on his collar. Every demand sent swath after swath of troops moving in perfect unison.

"If you are so worried Voyance, then I don't suppose you'd like to come and supplement my command?"

There was a long pause as the two of them stared at one another. Neither of them gave any expressive quarter to the other for a long, drawn-out, collective seethe. "I didn't think so," Avernus whispered.

"You knew better."

Avernus scoffed humorously as a grin slapped quickly across his face. "You're right."

"I'll call for you when the throne is in ruin. Our birthright is within our grasp, Pythia. Soon."

“Everything of significance is the result of conquest.”

// A V E R N U S //
// L O R D _ O F _ T H E _ N E W //
// DESCENDING UPON RAVELIN CITY //
// PRESENT TIME //
// W H A T _ T H E _ D E A D _ M E N _ S A Y //
​

Darth Avernus was dead, or at least, deceased was his official status. The work of Telis Taharin-Zambrano on Dromund Kaas all that time ago saw to it that Avernus' name became an afterthought when considering present threats to the Sith-Imperial Throne. He'd been a ghost, every appearance on the battlefield hid his life away behind a mask. A mask that separated the incognito Avernus of the battlefield from the fraternizing 'Dax Sunreva' of the political scene. However, the time was nigh for the final push, and as such the time had come to crawl from his ostensible grave.

No more mask.

No more hiding.
​

As his garb fluttered in the wind that rushed through the open side of the RDAG dropship, Avernus removed the ostentatious mascarade that had been sleeved over his face time after time. Clutching the conforming fabric between his fingers, he regarded it coldly one final time before releasing into the currents created by the ship's momentum. It danced erratically in rapid flips and corkscrews before burning to ashes once caught in the wake of the atmospheric thrusters.

Radiant strands danced violently backward beneath the influence of the wind. Sapphire eyes squinted against the current as Avernus watched the smoldering battlefield of Ravelin City come into view from over the horizon. Stacks of black and grey rose above the skyscrapers, occasionally sundered by streaks of artillery and bombardment following their opposite paths. The city's canopy was littered with the fast zipping and zapping of metallic birds fighting desperately for a hold in the air.

A twinge tickled the back of Avernus' mind suddenly, instinctively causing him to lean back further into the cab of the RDAG. His grip upon the support bar tightened as a distinctive flash of green grazed just past his vessel, crashing violently into the following ship. The thunderous deconstruction of the ship immediately pulled a ringing from deep in the eardrum. Vague shouting over the surrounding comms met him only as a muffled and distorted static as more and more anti-air lasers began to light up the incoming reinforcements.

The durasteel birds swayed and dipped, evading shot after shot by only precious meters. Those who failed to stay in step were obliterated one after another in black and orange displays of carnage. Kilometer after kilometer their approach continued doggedly even as their ranks were shredded by a quarter and then shortly nearly in half. The inquiries and order that came over the communications still fell flat upon his ears, Avernus remained focused on each event, picking them out of the cosmic flow of time just micro-instants before they happened. With each premonition, he only cared to acknowledge whether or not he was intertwined in the destruction.

The horrible oil and tibanna bloodletting continued even as they began to weave through buildings and industrial structures. Where was the fire coming from anymore? It didn't matter. They were so close that Avernus could already see himself walking upon the surface of bastion for the first time in a very long time. Too long, it had been, since his feet graced the crown of Sith-Imperial territory. Only this time, he came as a usurper rather than a servant.

Every nerve screamed with impending doom. The feeling of instant immolation asserted itself within a vague portion of his brain. His RDAG was next. A step off the edge sent him plummeting with morbid grace towards the ground just as a verdant streak of hot gas punched a hole in the ship. His form cut through the atmosphere between himself and the ground like a dagger careening for the heart of an enemy. The sound of passing air was the only thing his ears could pick up, a break-neck howling that vortexed through the inner lobe with uncaring impunity.

When commanded, the force pulled his plummeting body upwards ever so slightly. His momentum slowed to an unnatural pace, allowing him to touch down with little more a slight bend of the knees. As if on cue, the RDAG, or what was left of it slammed into a skyscraper in the near-distance, pulling Avernus' gaze up to it. For a moment, the smell of ozone and the blaster fire that ripped through the air all around him was only an afterthought. He was momentarily drunk with the feeling of knowing he was back, right in the very place this had all started.

Plasma screamed from between the fingers of his left hand, the golden blade exploding to life with a nauseating hiss. As the final remaining squadron of RDAGs soared overhead, he knew it was time to finally make his play. He was unsure how far he was from the agreed landing zone, but Avernus was beyond the adherence to strict military operational expectancies. Especially in this particular conflict; where his sole purpose went far beyond the taking of the Sith-Imperial Captial. This was about heritage, codes, thousands of years of kept traditions made clogged like hairs in a drain.

Vengeance.

 

[Hugot Tyvek VII]

[Theme]
Allies: Gordon Hiram Voss Var Koon Olen Halcorr
Engaging: TE-236 Grand Moff Aut-X
​

Spoiler: Fleet Drips

FLEET:
82nd - Dauntless Company:
Star Destroyers:
1 Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer - NIV Dauntless (Flagship) [Link]

Support Craft:​

2 Squadrons: REC-LE01 AEG Enforcer Gunship [Link]​

13 Squadrons:TIE Starfighters (5 Outlander, 4 Interceptor, 3 (4 w/ Dervish) Slasher, 1 Drone)​

1 Hugot's personal TIE/HF Slasher and accompanying Slasher squadron, Dervish Squadron​

Cruisers:
1 The Valiant-Class Star Destroyer - NIV Joker (Standby - Ord Mantell) [Link]

Support Craft:​

1 Squadron: REC-LE01 AEG Enforcer Gunship​

2 Squadrons: TIE Starfighters (2 Drone)​

1 Stalwart-Class Carrier - NIV Hussar II [Link]

Support Craft:​

1 Squadron: REC-LE01 AEG Enforcer Gunship​

10 Squadrons TIE Starfighters (5 Outlander, 3 Bomber, 2 Vanguard)​

Corvettes:
2 Gurkha-Class Corvette - NIV Cormorant (Starboard side) & NIV Skua IV (Port side) & [Link]
1 TXS Vandal-class Corvette - NIV Landsknecht (Standby - Ord Mantell) [Link]

STAFF:
NIV Dauntless (Flagship)
Command: Captain Hugot Tyvek VII
Traits: (See above)
1st Mate: Commander Astro Buuchelli [Image]
Traits: Sephi/Devaronian hybrid, old cadet mate of Hugot, Nellogant native, ended up on the same side, has read every novel I swear, extremely organized, in charge of ordering everybody around, always has a stick up his ass, petty

NIV Hussar II (2nd Command)
Command: Lt. Commander Surilda Patullo [Image]
Traits: Mirialan, former Jedi, Bounty Hunter, Sith, according to her basically everything how much of it is true is up for debate but her skills aren’t, unbelievably calm, down to earth, tends to get tunnel vision, sometimes ruthlessly unsympathetic

NIV Joker (6th Command, 3rd if in league)
Command: Lt. Commander Eevla Lancori [Image]
Traits: Human/Cyborg, part time inquisitor part time Commander, thick accent, doesn’t know the word fun, skilled strategist, tends to crack under pressure, major trauma from a jettison incident

NIV Cormorant (4th Command)
Command: Lieutenant Aticus Zylander [Image]
Traits: Human, former poet with a passion for navigation and high power ship mounted weapons systems, speaks in proverbs and anecdotes, often hard to get a straight answer out of, tends to underplay serious issues

NIV Skua IV (5th Command)
Command: Lieutenant Jauqinna Tee [Image]
Traits: Kiffar, Former CIS naval officer, no alligence officer for hire, just follows where trouble is brewing, remarkably lucky, skilled at difficult maneuvers, notoriously reckless but does often get results, personally responsible and the only survivor of the Skua I, II & III

NIV Landsknecht (7th Command)
Command: Lieutenant Aeneid Alamo II [Image]

Spoiler: Hugot rn

Before the battle had even truly began Hugot had already gotten a scare, with sith agents running a muck aboard his vessel, from the intel below deck little damage had been done and they were being repelled and the insurgency would soon be dealt with thanks to the landing of additional proud soldiers of the 501st doing their duty. Hugot raced about the bridge ordering men around as he was cut short

“Captain, The Endeavor is hailing!” an officer cried, Hugot’s eyes widened as he marched to the holotable listening intently to his orders, upon hearing the Rear Admiral's Hiram Voss orders Hugot brought up his concerns after a slight introduction, “Captain Hugot, pleasure to formally meet, on the battlefield noless, Admiral my company is prepared for battle but my the NIV Dauntless has a group of sith insurgents aboard and will be keeping her a fair league behind the rest of my company, I am entrusting Lieutenant Commander Eevla Lancori to directly oversee the intrepid close quarters combat.” “Thank you captain.” Lt. Commander Lancori noted with her characteristic violent accent and tone. With the larger meeting over Hugot hailed the remaining members of his company once more, “This is it, Lt. Commander Lancori you know what to do, Lieutenant Zylander, Tee and Alamo hug The Joker tightly triumvirate formation, Lt. Commander Patullo trail the main force at a safe distance and all ships launch all available fighters and prep all cannons if you haven’t already.” Sed orders were followed by a round of along the lines of “Right away captain,” as Hugot turned to face the viewport watching a locus of Tie Fighters approach the enemy fleet darting between the forward members of the company, the Joker in the centre with the NIV Landsknecht above and the NIV Cormorant and NIV Skua IV diagonally below to the left and right respectfully, roughly a third arbitrary circumference from each of each other to defend against every flank.

Hugots appreciation of the starfighter launch was cut abruptly short as the haul shook once again, he rolled his eyes, “What on Malachor is it now?!” he shouted

“Captain something else has penetrated the hull, roughly 6 craft!”

“You have to be kriffing me how the hell did they get past all our scanners and managed to board us whilst we’re still with the main fleet, are they mad?” Hugot question, enamoured by either the stupidity or genius of his opponent.

“Our scans indicate they’re Trident-Class... Assault Ships…?” Captain Buuchelli noted with a perplexed look as him and Hugot made eye contact, Hugot couldn’t believe his ears and raced over to the scanner, sure enough, six Trident-Class Assault Ships,

“Aren’t those ships nearly 900 years old? How are they holding together let alone, flying!?”

“The makers know…” Buucheli groaned shortly before the lights in the ship flickered out being replaced by the ominous red emergency lights as the ships sirens began to blare,

“Captain! A bomb hit the main power generator!” an officer yelled,

“And?!” Hugot screamed

The Officer scrambled briefly before whilst awaiting the diagnostic, after reading it he quickly gathered himself “It doesn’t look that bad, the fighter shot it while the shields were still up but it’ll take a minute to reboot the core, it also appears the assault ships along with a handful of gunships have launched droids on deck.” Hugot rolled his eyes so far back into his head he thought he saw the light as furiously contacted the Sith squad aboard his vessel

“Captain, what do I owe the pleasure?” Darth Vortex responded begrudgingly, actively filing his nails as the ship continued to be boarded.

“You and your men better actually do something or by Aboleth I’ll set the ship into hyperdrive and ram it into Bastion killing everybody.”

“Is that a threat? You woul-,”

“Yes it is and yes I will, if you don’t act fast my threat will be the least of your worries since there are about 60 more threats roaming around the ship!” Darth Vortex, huffed through his file and got up with a nod deactivating the comm, and prepping to take back the ship along with his roughly 20 Sith agents.

“Patch me through to Gordon ,” Hugot ordered, followed by frantic typing, “Convinced old Darth Vortex to help you and another 60 troops just landed, you’ve now got droids marching around and I think a few enemy Sith agents on the way.” Hugot said with a nod before receiving another message from an Olen Halcorr , leader of Red Squadron noting him of their pursuit of the Hyena Bombers attempting to assault their ship, “Much appreciated Commander, happy hunting,” Hugot cheered, before noticing the a few straggling members of the aforementioned Bombers turning back around to make a break for enemy space to rearm,

“Not so fast!” Hugot opened the channel for all NIO frequencies “You don’t have the element of surprise anymore and you’re in our turf now, all ships, all batteries, open. Fire.”

It was a massacre, no matter how fast a bomber was trying to return after a run this far in enemy controlled space, within firing range of practically the entire fleet not to mention the continuous efforts of Red Squadron, this whole maneuver was bold and near nonsensical, to spend this many resources on capturing non-essential capital ship hence their companies late arrival, was completely beyond him and frankly his entire bridge crew, whoever this captain was they must of noticed the minor damage from the previous hostile boarding and got quite possible the widest tunnel vision Hugot had ever witnessed either that or it was an escape attempt to save the agents but clearly that failed too. Hugots enamoured thoughts of the situation were interrupted by the familiar sound of Commander Buuchelli’s voice

“C… captain?”

“Y… yes, sorry?” Hugot apologized for zoning out

“Despite everything we have reports below deck that the first round of Sith agents have been dealt with and as for the forces from the Trident Assault ships, their vessels have been commandeered and the forces have nearly been neutralized. They didn’t manage damage much, some long range communications and one minor port side thruster seems to be malfunctioning slightly, the crew could finish repairs in a few minutes if that.” Commander Buuchelli addressed, glancing down at his datapad often.

“Perfect…” Hugot muttered

“What’s on your mind captain?”

“This assault… It felt…-"

“Desperate?”

“Yes. My worry is, why us? We aren’t carrying anything important, we are but two clicks away from the NIV Penitent, a far more important capital ship, if the had decent enough intelligence they’d know that’s a far more valuable target.”

“This all seems depsrate, on both sides, but yes, it does seem to defy logic Captain, perhaps we were mistaken for a separate ship?”

“Perhaps…” Hugot activated the comm channel, “82nd company, hold your movement back slightly, I don’t want you in the front lines yet, something feels amiss.” all corresponding Lieutenants Commanders and Lieutenants nodded, rearing back from their forward momentum slightly.

“They’re droids, I believe ancient droids.” Hugot pondered quietly to Buuchelli, rubbing his own chin.

“Wh… what?”

“Think about it, ancient technology once used by the original CIS, a government notorious for using a droid army, these are their ships and if you remember from the academy-.”

“The old CIS command droids biggest flaw was their overconfidence and hubris.”

Hugot’s face lit up, “We can use this…” Hugot hailed the NIV Endeavour Hiram Voss , eagerly awaiting them to pick up, “Rear Admiral I have some information that could prove useful, those desperate Sith fools have a 900 year old battledroid commanding their flagship, this is a weakness we can exploit...” Hugot’s whole body filled with a new found vigour.

​

​

Other Space Combatants: Zori Kapshan Detritus Ren Thaelius Onrai Del Lovruc

 

[Kir Dantos]

Aboard the Dropship
Bastion, Braxant Run
En route to surface
Ryv Maynard Treicolt Loske Treicolt Quinn Varanin

The violent and relentless rocking of the dropship was not too much for him to handle. Much had changed over the time he'd spent and the things he'd done, and not even in the space of that much time. Overwhelming didn't even begin to cut it. Yet.. through all the trouble he'd faced, Fornax, Mykr, the Crusader ship, Dagobah, he found himself thinking about her again. She was here, he knew it. A wave of pain washed across his face. Despite all his efforts to forget what had happened on the force-null planet, the Padawan hadn't been able to get his mind off the events of those three days. The encompassing guilt seemed almost as unforgiving as the hellhole that the Alliance and the New Imperial Order was about to try and take, at face value, it seemed mad for the Sith to dig themselves in here and dare the Coalition to jump in after them, pure lunacy, yet, it felt right, in his heart and in the Force.

"The Jedi are all of those things, but we make mistakes too."

"It's pointless to try and fix the Jedi Order."

The words resonated in his head when he desperately wanted them to go away. This was the major challenge that the ghost had talked about. It was this. Kir had fought on the frontlines, he was a pilot and soldier, but this battle.. it was different, it was like it was meant to happen, Fornax could have been prevented, but this, it was something that was bigger than him and Ryv and Loske and Maynard, Auteme and everyone. That scared him.. he'd always been looking up to those Jedi Knights above him ever since he'd joined the Jedi as a young kid. But it was bigger than everyone, and it was tough to deal with.

"Sometimes I wish I never got the Force, everyone expects you to be able make those hard decisions, but lot of the time I just don't know what to do."

What did it all matter? Would they ever truly stop the Sith Empire. They could kill a bunch of them and nothing would change. They'd still be out there. They'd always be out there hurting people and creating chaos and disorder. Could the Jedi really deal with that, could they truly make it go away? He despised it, the inner turmoil that ate at him, rotting him and his universe view. And it made him reluctant, to fight at all. Turning his head to a green recruit sitting a seat away from him, he looked just as anxious as he was. "You'll be alright, Private, once you get down there, you'll love it, you'll be in your element."

He sympathised with the trooper because he felt like him. He was surrounded by all these veteran troopers who'd survived the reformation of the Galactic Alliance and all the battles that ensued even before his time. Honestly, he knew that feeling, all these experienced Jedi, wise and clever and strong. Here he was, essentially a kid with a blade surrounded by heroes and told to fight. Hero.. all he'd ever wanted to be, to help people. He was roused from his deep contemplation by Master Karis who referenced his ability to jump from a dropship without going splat, just like one of Mr Srrik's Trandoshan flatcakes on Coruscant.

"Course I can, Master Karis, airjumping's my favourite sport." He smiled.

Just as he was about to return to his contemplation, Loske was called to kneel. He watched in semi-bewilderment as he watch the ceremony go on. He was happy for Loske, out of all of the people he knew, she deserved it the most and it made him think, about his place in the Order, in the galaxy. Clapping hard, he watched the elation on everyone's faces. Pure happiness, something that he'd always kept on striving for. "Way to go Loske!" She truly was an inspiration, and it made sense. But it always seemed so far out of his Like what Master Yoda had told him.

"Never give in to your fear you must, your hatred, feed on it, they do. Hrmmm. Show them you must, that you are more than that, the mark of a true Jedi that is."

It was enlightening advice from a Jedi so wise and so powerful. The sudden reality hit him like a ton of bricks. No backing out now, no proclaiming that he wasn't ready. And he had to do it, for Maynard, for Ryv, for Auteme, for Loske, for everyone. If he didn't do this, he'd be betraying them, and that was something he wasn't going to do anytime soon. If.. he could make her see her senses and come back to the light, then all would be well and the stomach butterflies would dissipate and fly away. What if he lost the duel, and most importantly, what if he failed to bring her back? Master Skywalker had advised him on that too.

"A Jedi does not fear death, Kir. Neither does he fear failure. Both are essential to the Force, life cannot be had without death, and success cannot be had without failure. Treat failure as you would success and death as you would life, and only then, will you see."

The young Jedi stepped towards his Master and looked him in the eyes. Maynard was like a father to him, he wouldn't know what to do without him.

"Master, thank you. Thank you for everything. I'll never find a way to repay you for what you've done for me. You made me who I am. I have to go, I have to deal with something that I've been putting off for a long time. It's personal and I need to face it alone. I wanted you to have this" He handed him his old green lightsaber, adorned with everything.

He then turned to Loske and beamed brighter, than he ever had before. "Congrats Blue. You deserve it. Thank you too, for being a friend." Afterwards he turned to Ryv finally.

"Master Karis, I haven't known you long, but I know you're one of the best Jedi I've ever had the honour to meet and I can't imagine being like you. Thank you for what you did for me on Dagobah, you'll finally get to assess my airjumping skills."

"This is goodbye, because me here, isn't the same person that'll come back. Or not. I can only trust the Force. I never had the chance at a real family, but I have one. Right here, and that's a privilege some will never know."

He walked up to the opening blast doors and stared down at the carnage that was unfolding.

"Thank you all. And may the Force be with you, all of you."

"Always."

So he leapt, and this time, there was no fear. No death. Just him, and the Force...

Kir slowed himself with the Force and landed with a thud on the ground, touching it with his hand for some stability. She was very near. Venturing around the carnage, he spotted that stark white hair of the Echani. He sauntered up towards her, making sure to leave some room, and he gazed straight at her with a neutral expression, no tears, or fear. Just nothingness.