Invasion Darkness Falls // NIO Invasion of TSE held Bastion

[Loske Treicolt]

BASTION // ATMOSPHERE // OVERHEAD IMPERIAL CAPITAL COMPLEX
GA: Ryv // Maynard Treicolt // Kir Dantos // RAIDER + RYYK SQUADRON
TSE: Allyson Locke
WARPAINT



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Loske felt anxiety growing in her chest.

The strategy today was familiar and strange at the same time. Like a once-favourite song heard again after years of being forgotten. How many times had they clutched overhead rails in a dropship before battle. How many times had they held their breath in concentration before the proverbial jump?

A rhythm was starting to evidence, nuanced in the repetition and patterns of each conflict they flung themselves into. This one felt like the apex. The goal the New Order had set as their North Star from the schism’s dawn. It had a feeling of finality, a build-up that mirrored the one before The Alliance’s reclamation of Brentaal IV.

The Sith had been a plague for years. It had always been a thing in her galaxy’s life that didn’t change. It was the purpose for her creation. The permanent factor. Her relationship to them might shift. She mindlessly fought against them, or she saw them tormenting her lover for years and finally felt reason for truly wanting them gone. They were at the root of the dissent sewn between her brother and best friend. But those changes were all about her. Her life, her fragility, relationships, and impermanent mortality. The idea that The Sith themselves could be fragile, fall today, was like saying Tattooine’s suns might go out.

When the dust settled, what would come next? The Sith were only one manifestation of evil.

The collective of Jedi and soldiers hadn’t even met the man they were fighting for (save for Ryv). For someone who operated so purposefully on relationships, the only people she actually knew within the New Order were Konrad Bolter and Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt . And met a Lucien Dooku . A select few of handshakes that were part of the great fist against The Sith. Then what? Would they be satisfied? Cedric had been hungry for his Imperium, fervent with impetus and became lost. Was that such a predictable path history would repeat itself and she once again...unwittingly helped?

She hadn’t realized how much fear had settled down on her shoulders until the moment Ryv spoke and hope lifted it. Something on a genetic level rejoiced.

"Loske, step forward."

Surprise softened her expression and a quick assessment of Ryv’s posture and gestures shot of exhilaration behind her breastbone. In a stolen instant, she glanced at Maynard happily, her fingers seeking out his hand to wordlessly exchange the nervous thrill that burgeoned within.

It wasn’t the fanfare the other two from their trio had at their ceremonies, but this was much preferred. If this had been a repeat of starbird she might have become self-consciously nauseous and unable to immerse in the moment.

"But- don't think you wanna be up there. I know I sure as hell don't."

These were all the people she wanted, though there was a noticeable gap with their former Corellian ally absent. It had felt so complete once.

Maybe Amea could have been here? That was selfish.

“I guess this whole thing just turned into a one-knight-stand, hm?”

And on second thought..it was fine that she wasn't.

When it all came down to priorities, her uttermost was always the people she was surrounded with. Giving justice to all the effort Ryv concentrated and manifested as a Jedi, and seeing him happy on the other side. More recently, giving Kir that well of encouragement and reassurance that there was a purpose to duty; but it had to come from something within and not prescribed. She practiced what she preached with ultimate priority in her purpose: Maynard and their future together. The one he deserved after being cracked and shattered for so long. The purpose was a peace the collective of NJO could be comfortable in and walk away from it all without the shadow of guilt clinging to them. Everything else fell away to that focus.

In the wake of everything, all the darkness, this group of people had collected in the shade and found a place to nurture and grow together. Here, it was about them. Here she didn’t have to respond to the call of The Alliance. The New Imperial Order. Any sort of self glorified government, just them. Her family and the installment they worked so tirelessly to establish.

"Kneel, Padawan,
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 your 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,"

It didn’t seem like enough. It seemed like it was too much. She didn’t know what it seemed like, but she felt one knee kiss the floor and palms fold over the other, looking down. No up. Azure gaze focused on Ryv’s face, concentrating on the lines drawn in his expression and the resolve etched in its structure. His mouth was moving, speaking from his heart with a tone fortified in belief. Belief in her. Her heart fluttered. The words were loud and quiet at the same time. She’d heard Ryv speak them before, but they felt different this time. They were for her, and Loske didn’t realize how much she needed to hear them until right now. Her opinions on hierarchies and titles be damned, it was in being seen for all she’d done. The sounds ran through her, emboldening and crystallizing purpose.

A pure soul. That hadn’t been hardwired into her. Being a Jedi had, but she’d given it its own meaning. Impressed herself in the world in her own way.

"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."

The thrum of Resolve was loud next to her ear, the heat isolated against the juncture between her neck and shoulders. She held her breath in a solemness that was rooted in appreciation and..honestly..discomfort. She’d never felt so large and small at the same time and was once again grateful that this was an intimate traditional ceremony, save for the awkward voyeurs of a dozen or so Alliance commandos.

The New Jedi Order’s vanguard encouraged her to rise, and she unfolded to do so. She felt a little taller. More solid.

Matson, an anagram of legacy discarded, now meant something.

An inappropriate squee of excitement slipped through her teeth and she quickly sought to adjust it to a mumbled: “Thank you.” The words were somewhat quiet, strained not because she didn’t believe in them but because of the emotional strain to keep some level of composure. Out of respect for tradition. The rigid discipline soon dissolved and gave full vent to her feelings. Standing, she looped her arms around Ryv’s shoulders and squeezed the evidence of her cherishing him and the gesture he manifested. He’d come so far. He meant so much.

Awkwardly, some of the commandos paused in their preparations to make clapping gestures and sounds. Loske pulled back to give a small peck at the edge of Ryv’s qukuuf-free eye. “For everything.” Motivation, friendship, unity, honesty, there was too much to list in such a time-pressed scenario. He knew. He had to know by now.

"Way to go Loske!"
"Congrats Blue. You deserve it. Thank you too, for being a friend."

Smiling softly, she cocked her head in thanks and reached out to squeeze his arm. It was wholesome, how quickly he’d assimilated to the knit of the group’s friendship. There was much within him that mirrored all of their conflicts and resolutions. He’d come into it on his own time, and all she could do was what she did for everyone else: Be there for it.

“Thanks, Kir.”

This wasn’t how she’d imagined the battle starting, and her head felt convoluted while trying to sort through her reactions. She needed to ground herself again, and moved to her rock. Unmistakable enamourment flared in her eyes before she closed them and stretched up into a kiss that combined her thankfulness for all he was, all he’d supported for her journey to this knighthood and had to tail off into something that also worked as a gesture of reassurance before they lurched into the void once more. A hand lingered on his jawline, and she stole more time to wrap her arms around the Jedi General’s torso. "And you, through it all. I wouldn't be here without you." He’d feel her heartfelt respect and treasuring emotions for him through their bond, talking was to excess now. And the countdown was on.

The pressure of the moment and everything else demanded their attention.

"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.”

There was a terrible truth to Kir’s statement. They were always saying goodbye to themselves. These three especially, those who loved one another so long-term had attended a thousand funerals of themselves each time they thrust into another mission. The people they were too exhausted to be any longer, who they didn’t recognize in themselves any longer, who they grew out of. And in the end, they’d honour what emerged instead.

The dropship shuddered, the atmosphere and activity thick enough to cause turbulence. To match the interruption, the pilot revved the repulsorlifts to their maximum speed. Everyone in the hold would feel the slow, steady, rhythmic beat of the engine beneath their feet.

The lights turned to red, bathing the cabin in crimson to change the tides of their focus to the battle they’d dedicated to. Tension collected in the room, and each soldier finished their preparation and offered gestures of companionship and reassurance to their squadmates.

Kir was the first to leap from the bow facing section of the side doors. One of the gunners perched near the edge, watching the Jedi’s descent into the display of death below. New Imperial firepower, versus the Sith’s fortifications, exchanged colourful and angry fire between them.

The lights turned green.

The clutches of the unknown stretched it’s hungry maw and beckoned them down.

She lingered only for a moment, gripping the frame of the opening while the nanoparticles of her suit gathered to create a helmet. The start of her sentence was ripped into the chaos by the torrent of wind, the end relayed through their shared comms. “Here we go again. Together.>

Their ship was one of many. Several had to adjust course, adhering to the same LZ restrictions. They acted as platforms for the freshly minted Knight, who lurched from the cusp of the ship into the light fight below. She landed on the roof of a brethren ship, running along its top before leaping back out again. The notion of staccato-ing from ship to ship was repeated until the final landing was delivered, the Force cushioning her landing and an extension of telekinesis rolling from one side to clear a collection of soldiers who hadn’t been expecting an invisible blast. At the same time, her golden blade activated to deflect and defer shots from the Sith’s defenses.

Alliance troops dropped down around them, equipped with jet packs and some level of ropes to get them grounded. Most made it. Some were plucked from the descent, claimed by plasma before they could touch the ground.

Kir had already disappeared.

Spoiler

GA BEST ALLIES PAGECLAIM

 

[Bel'sa'Nikto]

Part III: The Broken Struggle to Hold it Together...
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Location: Imperial Capital Complex, Ravelin City, Bastion
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO
Burning, all he felt was burning. It felt that each breath he took further worsened his condition. In fits of panic to stop the pain he would stop breathing, only to gasp for breath and put himself in more pain at one moment. His attempt at patching himself up was failing, it wasn't meant to last forever. The aura he felt from the room confirmed that Darth Ophidia was able to handle her own and didn't need assistance. Okay, this gave him time to focus on what he was to do next. Gripping his side as he stood up, he tip-toed out of the room. The soldiers with Ra Vizsla were dangerously close but the Sith was quick to slink off. The cauterization of the blaster bolt had also began to undo itself. Though not a problem at the moment, the slow trickle of blood could prove to be challenging to handle the longer he was in the field. As if it were two kids playing air hockey at an arcade, the Kajain'sa'Nikto bumped into the walls multiple times as he tried to head back to the door in which he entered the complex. Lights, still dehydrated of the power they desperately needed, flickered on and off in the building. This created a minor strobe effect. Not the one that would hurt your eyes however, just one that would make you look like you ran ahead ten paces as the lights turned on and off. Eyes, longing to see an end to this fighting, came in contact with the light as he reached his started point. By now, the fighting had died down at his position so he had a clear shot to find cover. C'mon, you've gotta do this...

Bel hobbled his way quickly out of the complex, glass crushing and cutting as his barren feet. His boots had been lost somewhere in the fighting, or maybe he had left them with Corsair and the shuttle and forgot to slip them on before the battle. A slain Legionnaire was visible just in front of him, mangled by blaster fire. Other bodies, friendly or not, soon began to show themselves around him. A minor panic began to set in. So much death...an impossible amount of death. He understood that this was a battle but to see so much carnage was a bit unnerving. The time for mourning was cut short as the hellfire of rockets from both sides began once more. The fallen Padawan ducked into a small corner and made a call for help.

Part IV, Scene 1: No Signal...
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Bel yelled into the comlink attached to his left arm. "Hello, this is Bel'sa'Nikto of the Sith Empire. Does anybody read me?" No one answered, so he repeated himself over and over again. Perhaps his wounds and the panic began to cloud his mind, as he failed to see the black mark where enemy fire had grazed the gauntlet. This had rendered the comlink useless. Another setback, great! So much had already gone wrong. He was injured, separated from his allies, now this with no communication to even locate them. With the enemy sure to make another sweep of the area soon he had to think fast. Wrestling thoughts in his mind, he decided to rejoin the fray. Perhaps he would come back into contact with people if he wasn't hiding away. Rising up through pain, he began his decent back into the fighting.

Part IV, Scene II: Sometimes the Needs of Others, Outweighs Yours...
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Take a step, pain, agony

Step again, pain and anguish


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Power through, SURVIVE...

Do it for those that need you the most.​

a narration by the Benefactor​

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Imagine for a moment you're engaged in war. You've been wounded, and there doesn't seem to be a way out. What do you do? Do you sit down and wait for either your allies or the enemy to find you? Or perhaps you do what our little Nikto friend here is doing, and go back into the fray. Sometimes, the overall goal is the most important thing. Take this battle for example. What sounds better, a soldier hiding away while his planet fall, or that soldier getting up and perhaps passing in order to save it. It is the actions of those willing to sacrifice themselves that truly sets the strong apart from the weak. Those willing to die for a cause they believe in and defend what is theirs is what makes a nation strong. I know I certainly would give my life to make sure the future generations were safe from the hands of tyranny. The future of the Sith hangs in the balance. I call on all allies of the Sith Empire to rise up and not let Bastion fall.

The Emperor counts on it...​

narration continues, the Benefactor watching Bel​

Arm, reaching for the sabre

Enemies, sights set on you

Cut them down, you must be swift

Poetry in motion, you cannot shift

A Red One is selfless, willing to act

For those that require aid, he's willing to render it

Not for honour or for glory, but for the goodness within him

Maybe this was the Jedi left within him, or something more

He joined the Legionnares, and braced for impact

A mortar roars from the distance

He tells the men to "Get down!"

Tsk tsk, he was too late

Slammed down like a hammer, the impact came

The position was cleared out

No more men

Just dust

And the lightsaber of a Sith that had protected his men until the end

end narration​

Part IV, Scene III: Collapse...
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The dust settled, a massive crater had been left by the bomb. The men that the Nikto had tried to protect had all perished. He had tried to use the Force to move the bomb away but in his weakened state he wasn't able to. Whatever bodies that hadn't been vaporized by the blast were not buried under mounds of debris from the nearby architecture. The sabre Bel used lay at the centre of the crater, like an ominous marker for a ground zero of sorts. A red body, lightened by the ash that had began to cover it, lay under a pile of rubble along with a few other Legionnares. Some of the men were unconscious including Bel, meaning they could be saved but that wasn't a guarantee. The breath from the downed men kicked up the ash and send half out of the crack in the rubble pile, while the rest was inhaled into their lungs. The countdown for revival now began...

 

[Djorn Bline]

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

To their convenience their HUDs were uploaded with a holomap of the sector they were in, constantly updated with information in enemy movement and any passages for them to safely take. They had no jet packs to help them with mobilizing from their starting position, though their grappling hooks was an adequate alternative to get where they needed to go. Solely walking around would waste time, this allowing the Imperator to close in on the Palace at a faster rate. That was probably one of the most important things for an agent: how to manage one’s time. Every minute counted and had to be used wisely. Every minute lost meant the cold, agonizing realization of defeat would wash over the Empire. They already lost so much how could he blunder this task?

They were making progress as the skyscrapers bridged the large gaps of distance they had to cover. They were making time, they could just maybe do it. Save the Empire and break the spear here.

“Sir, the Imperator will be surrounded by his men at every corner, how are we going to close the distance between us and him?”

The agent did bring ups good question. A sniper round wouldn’t take down the soldier as much as wanted to. Someone like Tavlar had to come equip with state of the art armor and technology to survive something like that. Were this to be a general that relaxed in the rear, far away from combat, then it would have been a much more simpler task. Tavlar? The man was not afraid to fight shoulder to shoulder with his men, willing to risk his life just to literally lead the way. A quality Djorn admired as he, too, refused to act like a coward and not be in the fray.

“Our four snipers will take positions on the nearest skyscraper, they’ll be targeting any platoon officers. The rest of us, we’ll be tackling their flank with heavy explosives. Several companies of Legionnaires will be charging at them, a distraction for us to get close to the Imperator. That’s how we’re going to do it.”

Simple and easy, except that would be their only way to get in. As to how to get out? Well, there wouldn’t be any tactical retreats. They’d most likely die except the snipers unless they get caught somehow.

“I’m guessing there’s no coming back, sir?”

A silence crept on Djorn, knowing that would answer their question before he could open their mouth. He hated using soldiers like this unless it was for a great cause. He was gambling with their lives along with his as well. At least he wasn’t a coward and sat back giving orders without moving a finger.

“No, there’s isn’t...but dammit, we’ll at least make the end worth it,” he pathetically tried to offer solace to his subordinates. What else he could have said?

“Until the end,” which was then repeated by every other man and woman on this squad. They were coming close and hot near the ranks of the 501st. “Snipers, set up. Don’t take your shot until my signal; the others, with me,” and led the other seven special forces operatives descending down the last skyscraper they bridged. They could hear everything belonging to a battle: carnage, yells of orders, anxious cussing, the quake of battery shells, sobbing, all of it.

“Remember, we’re cutting through. Give them everything you’ve got.”

Before he commenced his gambit he contacted the officer that was responsible of making his suicide charge with companies of Legionnaires at his side. Speeders and other bikes would also make that daring charge. It was going to be a meat grinder that was for sure.

Three

Two
​

One
​

And the signal was given. Djorn and his soldiers would wait for a one or two minutes before making their attack by the sides. Just needed to get the New Imperials invested what’s in front of them.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

O U T R I D E R
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
JEDI KNIGHT GENERAL
Armor | Blade of Ruusan
L I E _ O F _ S U R V I V A L

CORUSCANT
CAPITAL OF THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
SOME TIME BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BASTION

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The Jedi Temple. Revenated to its past glory after the Core Alliance had reclaimed it and the New Jedi Order had taken up the home of old to continue onward. To cast its light further into the Galaxy.

The Core had been rendered unified and consolidated under a reign of a nation which espoused liberty, democracy...justice.

All the same, it'd never be home. Not to him. The re-establishment of the New Jedi Order within these halls and by extension, the sequestering here of those who'd come to call his closest friends, his family, eased him down far easier.

But there was no forgetting the tortured past, forgiving those who'd done those irrevocable crimes unto him.

There was only conquering it. Acting as the vessel of retribution, judgement would be passed.

He'd only received his orders hours prior to treading these sacred halls.

Back to the Braxant Run.

Bastion. He didn't want to lurch back into the fray so soon, but Bastion was...it could've been the end, at least the beginning of it. The Sith were a persistent parasite, even whatever hopefulness the Concordian could draw out made him certain of that.

Regardless, he was here to visit an old one, one long passed. Through the corridor of busts acting as ode to Jedi long passed on. Long made one with the Force. Maynard walked in a silent vigil before he eventually stopped before a bust depicting a Kel Dor man.

His first Master. Tok'run, the man who'd first plucked Maynard from Concord Dawn, the first who'd ever realized the agrarian scrapper, son of an insignificant name and legacy on the wayward world of golden fields.

"I know its...been a long time since...since I've ever been able to talk to you. Really long time. I remember it was...I think it was Hapes? Something like that. While I was on a job and you told me how much you still believed in me and that it hurt you to see me so lost...well..." Maynard swallows deeply before he's able to speak up again.

"You were right...I wish I knew that then but- it's never too late, right?" The Concordian said, easing a smile across his lips.

"I just- I just wanted to say that- thank you. For everything that you taught me. Thank you for...believing in me...believing that I was worth more than the scrap I collected or the labor I could do come harvest. No one else did." Treicolt said, his eyes welling up with tears. Less in sorrow and more in a deeper fulfillment, that he was doing good by the legacy of a man he'd trusted and respected more than most any until after he'd returned to the Order.

"I'm trying...to pay it back, what you did for me. I've become a Jedi again and I'm helping the Alliance fight the Sith. I think I'm doing a lot of good. And...I'm happy, fulfilled. I know you're not...with me now, right but...I wouldn't have had any of this without you. But no...actually..." He remembered what Lanik Dawnstar had told him on the broken surface of Borosk.

"You'll always be with me."

T H E _ C H A I N
​

RAVELIN
CAPITAL OF THE SITH EMPIRE
IMPERIAL CAPITAL COMPLEX

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"Hear that General?"
"Hot zone. We're hittin' the ground running too,"
"I'm thinkin' we get loud before we land, give our boys a chance to clear the LZ,"
"You know how to hit the ground without splatting like a bug, Kir?"

General. Never once did he ever imagine associating that title, that obligation with himself. It was never an aspiration in his sights, he'd just always worked in the interest of the Alliance. He'd made a vow to the Chancellor Emmen Tagge directly that he would be there for its people, always.

He'd yet to compromise on it.

Taking the helmet resembling the Mandalorian Beskar'gam into his hands he looked over the t-visor. Every time he looked through that visor, he was reminded of home. A world long lost, his family. They weren't far behind Concord Dawn though he'd still had one tangible link to his legacy, as meager as it was. His comrade underneath a different flag in Konrad Bolter . He was here today, no doubt about that. He was at the tip of the spear to every major engagement in which the Imperator's host marched out to in defiance of the Sith.

Not as if Maynard was ever far off either, he'd been one of the heavier hitters for the Galactic Alliance ever since its reconstitution. For the better or worse of his own mind and body. Almost unilaterally for the worse.

Peering across the troop bay of the drop ship to the four commandos at the lead of Ryyk Squad, Din Marren 's unit. Maynard nodded once before that helmet slid over his gaze.

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



"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.

<"I think we'll be just fine. Glad we're starting right in the shit. Say what you will about the Imps but they always leave us something for the fun."> Maynard said in reply to Ryv's inquiry. It was war, if you didn't portray that faux brazen confidence, you'd be dead before your feet touched the ground, doubting in yourself before anything else.

He turned to Kir at the offer of his weapon, motioning a hand to refuse it.

<"No. Keep it. It's in no better hands than yours, Kir. There's none other like it and you'll need it, I promise you."> Maynard says. He'd abandoned his weapon once more, his lightsaber, regarding it as little more than refuse and discarding it into the dead woods of Concord Dawn. Ryv bore witness to that himself and was the catalyst of its return to him when Maynard pulled him from the Sith occupied planet.

"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."

It was only then that he could really understand how Loske felt the moment that blade grazed his own shoulders at the time of the unification of the Galactic Alliance and he was deemed Jedi Knight. As much as he sought to share it with her, to her refusal. He could only sympathize with her now that the roles were reversed.

This was her moment, he wouldn't dare let anyone or anything get in the way of that.

“Here we go again. Together.>

<"Together."> Maynard said, mirroring Loske's mantra before the crimson light enveloped the cabin and the doors to the troop bays slid open. The shades of grey and gold of Ravelin washing against the visor of his helmet in the wake of it.

He reached a hand up to grasp ahold of the bar running along the top of the door's edge. He could see the squadron of Alliance and New Imperial gunships flanking them at each side, both of them holding armored vehicles magnetically clamped against the belly of the dropships as they continued into the searing heart of the beast.

Glancing to his flank, he looked to Ryv and spoke up to address the Kiffar. Just as he did, the light flipped green. They were clear to drop.

<"Not sure about you, brother. But I woke up lookin' to kill Sith."> He said, offering his hand to the Kiffar before he'd grasp Ryv's own before lurching from the dropship and into the hellfire below.

They'd landed in the shit already, the assault of the Complex finding its footing as the stormtroopers of the 501st alongside Alliance marines and army troopers moved up in tow. It was a bond melded in blood and toil. Ideology aside, each of them could trace those parallels between each other and in the fire? They weren't any different at all.

He could see New Imperial tanks pulling up not too far behind them, planting down into siege mode before they fired off their punishing volley of turbolasers. He caught the symbol of the lightning bolt on one of them, the 12th Armored Assault. Waylon's division. Only seemed right.

Blackblade seemed to be the vessel of the Sith disposal of power once again, the Emperor's own. He'd gotten used to seeing them on the field, that feared reputation didn't amount to much for now.

His cobalt blade crackled to life, the Blade of Ruusan. The first he'd ever wielded it and immediately what little anxiety he had of this battle withered away.

There was only the force.

The first to taste came in the form of one of these Legionnaires who absorbed the lunge of his saber to the abdomen.

With a motion of his arm he motioned his troops onward. There was little more they needed to know, they'd all trained sleeplessly for this moment.

<"Ryyk. Keep on overwatch, cover the advance."> He ordered out to the Commandos. They were bruisers, heavy hitters and they had to make sure the envelopment of the Capital Complex was air tight, so that the noose could choke out these Sith.

Though his student in Kir Dantos had all but disappeared into the fray. His subconsciousness seemed to veer out and try and pick him out in the chaos. Anyone else and he might've trusted their resolve, but the Corellian had yet to have his mettle tested. He didn't want his blood on his hands, certainly not now.

<"Where'd he run off to?"> He said, only to catch view of the Jedi on the approach of Quinn. The sight twisted his stomach, it didn't seem right at all and he tried his best to push through the fray. He could sense it all the same as he did on Muunilinst, a presence of familiarity. Of a dark and demented graze with fate.

// ALLIES | NIO/GA //: Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Kir Dantos
// ENEMY | TSE //: Ellie Mors | Quinn Varanin

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Ravelin
L O C A T I O N | Bastion Academy
T A G S | Telis Taharin-Zambrano
T H E M E | Here.
G E A R |Armor, lightsaber, pistol,
Lightwhip, ring, gloves, necklace.
N P C | Below.


BACK | ACADEMY

​

He didn’t expect this one to be an easy fight for him or his forces. Only thing Aslam thanked was the fact he controlled droids instead of actual soldiers, although he felt a bit sorry for the machines, unable to argue or say a word against orders or bad decisions, but that was the purpose of machines like those, created with the sole ideal of serving, fighting and dying at the behest of their masters. And in that fight they faced one of the worst types of enemies in the entire galaxy; the Sith Empire. Unlike other monsters, the Sith were cunning, cruel and had every intention of slaughtering their enemies and he had no intention of letting this happen, not after everything Lunafreya had done for him, especially after he had left the service. of the Empire in search of fighting for the New Imperial Order.​

And when the imperial army didn't want to hear from him for his past hunting mandalorians for sport, she reached out to him and gave him the opportunity for a life where he could serve a purpose he believed to be honored. Greatjon refused to let this opportunity be ruined, Bastion was his Dxun, where he would prove his service.​

"HOLD!", He roared to his forces and immediately they obeyed him. With his snout, Aslam began to sniff everywhere, as if feeling something in the air besides burnt bodies and gunpowder, making the cat growl for nothing in particular, there were tactics in a war that he knew very well, especially about whether hide inside a place like the Academy. "Missile Platforms! Move forward to the middle of our lines and aim against the walls of the Academy. Stay out of the enemy's line of fire."​

"Sir, yes, sir.", The soldiers driving the vehicles stated, beginning to move the platforms to do what was ordered.​

"I want two hundred Southstar of the first line moving towards those doors, get ready for the worst and shoot the enemy on sight.", His voice added to the communicator next to the vehicle he used. The machines carried three different types of weaponry, the IP-006, the Deimos Hand Cannon and the NIO-07.​

"The Sith are famous for that, did you know?" Jonni murmured to the honor guard that the Duchess had assigned to him. And beside him, Aelirenn, with whom he had met before, turned his face adorned by the golden helmet towards him, without any expression for him to know how she felt with what he just said. "Leaving bait and luring enemies into traps."​

Those were the last words he would speak that night. As soon as a single shot from somewhere came like a spear against the white lion, piercing his armor and piercing the flesh on his shoulder, throwing the cathar back, making him hit his head against the metal floor of the vehicle. Forcing the two brothers to bend down to see if Greatjon Aslam was still breathing, but faintly. And beside him, Riordain shook his head from side to side trying to find the source of the shot with just his eye and the enhanced vision of his helmet.​

"Omer!", Aelirenn called, causing her brother to wake up from his fruitless search back to her. "I need you here.", Riordain went to do what was asked of his sister and started to watch over Aslam, while Aelirenn raised his arm and opened a communication channel, not with the command center but directly with Lunafreya on his own. dispute on the other side of the Academy.​

"Your Grace, General Aslam was incapacitated. I repeat, we lost General Aslam.", And with all the most trivial coldness that a living being could have, Lunafreya's voice asked.​

"Is he dead?"​

"No, Your Grace, General Aslam is faintly breathing but he is not going to wake up any time soon either."​

"Then put a pillow under his head, toss it aside and take over the damned command, Aelirenn.", The Duchess almost snarled. "For Melitele's sake, do I have to do everything myself?"​

"No, Your Grace, please forgive my folly.", Elzeri spoke dryly, raising her arm and trying to remove the golden helmet from her head, letting the long cascade of snow-white hair run down her armor. Rising, she held tightly to her portable shield and took a deep breath, drawing the sword from her belt and lifting it high.​

"Missile Platforms, open fire when ready.", She snarled with a frown. The dark jedi knight focused everything inside of her into that Academy, preparing for what was to come. Her fingers started to caress her sword, almost anxious about this, it was little more than a decade since she took over the battlefield for anyone and now here she was, leading droids with her brother and a bleeding general at her feet. ​

FRONT | ACADEMY​

Her lips curved in an almost painful pout when she saw Darkonda splitting a soldier in half with a swing of that huge sword that the android used. Not cutting, but simply breaking the poor man's spine with the impact of his brute force.​

"That will hurt a lot tomorrow.", Belias commented beside her, in a way cruelly amused by the whole situation. She shared her sense of humor in a way, but the feeling of imagining it hurt her back. "Oh look, one of the WKRs has been destroyed.", Lunafreya rolled his eyes with disdain to see his light mechanical spiders running across the battlefield trying to escape the shots of the enemy forces.​

'One down, seven more to go.' she confided to herself, ignoring the soldiers killed on her side by the enemy troops, whether those who came out of nowhere or those who died fighting the defenders present, Lunafreya was struggling to contain her curiosity in knowing who led those forces within the Gym. For only an astute mind would be able to think of taking down the white lion before the real killing began.​

"Belias, can you jam their communications?"​

"No, but Elgar can, I think.", The youthful face dressed by the shi'ido contorted in a smile, he tried to lean in the vehicle, whistling for the trandoshan to approach and pass the order to it. The Duchess pressed the button on the tank, murmuring calmly.​

"Darkonda, get this over already.", The machine upon hearing the orders seemed to growl angrily to the soldiers, lowering its long sword and standing upright, letting its gun's cannons spit out a volley of metallic shots. Leaving soldiers after soldiers with holes provoked by the impact of the caliber of their weapon. She then pressed the command button again. "WKRs, you may fire when ready."​

And then she turned to look at the four vehicles behind her command tank. With their cannons long and powerful enough to blow up a bunker at once, their target was the entrance to the Academy, the purpose was to blow up their doors below and open up a space wide enough for them to invade.​

"Morticon! Zozoped! Take a company and proceed after the impact against the doors, clear the way of surprises and invade. Kill everything you find!" The two huge reptiles snarled, each raising his weapon of choice, Barabel with his slugthrower and Saurton with his vibroaxes and took the strength to get into position. "Diabolico?", The Dark Jedi approached from behind her to hear better what she had to say, Lunafreya noticed that his skin smelled of moss. "Raise the shields on the front lines, and get the troops to start trotting along the paths open for us. Darkonda and the rest will provide us with appropriate coverage for the passage after Zozoped tries to sniff if there are any traps from here or there for us to pass, but I want you to order Palescales to take the drones to their roof after the doors and paths are clear, let's sweep the place floor by floor."​

"As you wish, my mistress."​

She lifted her head so she could look at the sky, noticing that the night was not long in coming.​

"Hung be the heavens with black. Yield, day, to night!", His forefinger came close to his mouth, as a contemplative gesture about what was to come. His mind still touched by his father's words, his renewed conviction and his will forged in steel.​

"Stars hide your fires, let no light see my dark and deep desires.", She murmured to herself almost smiling.​

 

[Koda Fett]

Allies: The New Imperial Order, the Sons of Mandalore
Adversaries: The Sith Empire

In response, Fett found avoidance in ascension. His armoured frame hoisted into the space above once flames sputtered, spat a violent chorus of noise and screeched in the midst of use. He leaned into the movements, each one, and shifted across the room in a circular motion, an attempt to become behind the Emperor following a lean to the left. His finger plucked the trigger once, twice, three times more and a red flash brought colour the visor that seemed the pitch a mere moment before.

Munin offered none more than a violent barrage, missile after missile sent soaring towards the Emperor of the Sith. The Bounty Hunter, meanwhile, continued to soar above and send shot after shot, towards the centre mass.

Darth Carnifex - Vilaz Munin

 

[Vitani Azumi]

Masox Kamak had his eye pressed on the scope of his rifle, he was primed and ready to gun down an unsuspecting Sith enforcer droid when somebody cried out. He lost the shot and re-adjusted himself, taking a deep breath. The scream he heard was blood curdling.

Kamak could see a New Imperial soldier bleeding with his throat gored. He stared for a moment, then replaced his rifle with a pair of binoculars. Whoever had shot him was not a standard soldier - and they were nowhere to be seen.

The body lay a few blocks from Azumi’s last known location.

Kamak to Azumi, Captain, do you read?

The transmission was lost in the sea of communication. Azumi was left unaware.

*​

On the ground, Azumi and Sora continued towards the edges of the district. The air tasted of sulphur and the city sounded like hell. Sora stopped at a body, this one with a gaping stomach wound. The Chiss knelt over it while Azumi stood watch, her blaster poised.

“This one did not die in the blast,” she said - referring to the AT-SB assault, “he was one of ours.”

Sora noticed shrapnel in the wound. A ballistic weapon had been used, that much was clear. The two of them had passed a few dozen corpses on either side, though the majority of them were lost to a standard blaster. Some were skewered with the blade of a lightsaber, but this was something else entirely.

“What kind of backwater scum...” Azumi mused, staring at the corpse.

Sora stood up quickly, “there is no time. This ‘scum’ was a good shot. Do not underestimate the enemy, Captain.”

The Captain tightened her grip on her blaster as she moved onwards. Sora scanned the towering dark skyscrapers above them. A gutter swayed ever so slightly and had been bent inwards.

“They are nearby.” said Sora.

Rezom ​

 

[Cyndane]

Objective: Survive & regroup​

Location: Residential Sector, bordering the Administrative Sector ​

Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster pistol, 3 thermal detonators​

Enemies: New Imperial Order, Ursula Vizla ​

The Dark Apprentice narrowed her eyes which shimmered in a sickly yellow hue. Was the Mandalorian mercenary attempting to be funny here? Cautiously, she raised her lightsaber, keeping the burning crimson blade between her and the approaching stranger. There was no way she was serious about this, right?

Of course not. Arisia cursed under her breath as the approached and opened her fist. The metallic balls held by the mercenary erupted in a cloud of smoke and sparks that temporarily robbed her of her sight. It had been so predictable. And yet I fell for it... the thought of how she had allowed herself to be fooled swept through her mind. It would only serve as a motivator, adding more fuel to the flame that was her anger and coincidentally the source of her Dark powers.

Luckily she wasn't stupid enough to stay in one place. Relying on the reflexes of both the soldier and the Sith she was, Arisia flipped back from the pile of rubble that was her vantage point. The instinctive move resulted in a rough landing, but one that proved to be life-saving as the heap of stone and metal provided her with some much-needed cover. The slugs passed over her head and ricocheted off the metal pipes, scrap and stones that had once served as an house its wall. "Invalid!" She retorted back at the mercenary. Although she wasn't done yet.

The might of the Dark side that had been building inside of her coiled around her form, itching for its mistress to release it in a devastating attack. And who was she to deny the Dark side its lust for destruction?

"Alright buckethead, I'll make you regret that!" From her position crouched behind her cover, Arisia unleashed the Force in a telekinetic attack, hurling a small barrage of sharp pieces of metal and stone in the Mandalorian's direction with devastating speed. If it truly was a Mandalorian she faced, chances were that her attack wouldn't be able to scratch the beskar armor. But weapon systems and the exposed jetpack? Those were perfect targets.

The pile of rubble made it difficult to keep track of the Mandalorian. She had to rely on rough guess work, her instinct and anticipating possible moves to defeat this enemy. Knowing that she, no matter what, would probably have to react fast, Arisia made sure that she had room to move from her crouched position. "Y'know, I've slaughtered many of you mercenaries and fake Imperials today. What makes you think you'll be the one who gets out alive?"​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Duel Incoming: Oceiros Sunstrider

Spoiler: I'm quoting our posts into a neat little chain because feck it its more organized.

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Duel Incoming: Oceiros Sunstrider
​

The din of battle rang around her-- shots, explosions, screams. Screams of fear. They were the one thing the training room hadn't prepared her for. The Bastion Academy stood between the city and the Fortress, close to the center. All the best, Aradia resigned, she wouldn't have to go far to make her mark. It was all the other people standing in the way that shocked her senseless.

The civilians.

The families.

Aradia stood in the Academy's court yard, her lips parted as he ground quaked against an unseen attack. In a window beyond a gate, another child stood gaping, their vision set on the street leading toward them. Aradia's attention peeled off the child as a man tore them back, the curtains flapping in their wake. Men in white suits approached down the streets, blasters in hand as they pushed to break in deeper.

All the while they shot. They exploded. They ran over flower pots. She stood frozen as she peered out the gate, watching the swath of trained warriors push deeper into the city that made up her home. She gasped as the outside table of her favorite coffee shop became crushed under the wheels of an approaching tank. The city was falling to the invaders as they destroyed to conquer. And why? They marched on, so close she could see the dirt smeared across a helm.

Anger churned in her gut. She might not understand war, but she did know loss. She would not lose this place too.

A cry pulled from her throat as she left the safety of the courtyard, the teen jumping over a hedge and flying liking a monkey into the nearest solider as they marched on by. It was the shock alone that took him down, the girl small and frail despite how heartily she could now eat at each and every meal. There was nothing to note about her, the girl clad in simple black as she wrestled against the soldier's back. The march halted, all guns swirling onto her and the comrade that served as a shield.

You know she hadn't thought this through.

Her features contorted up at the white helmets that stared her down, her palm raising. "Get out of my home!" Fire exploded out at them all.

​

Objective: Secure the Academy
Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Allies: NIO | GA
Enemies: Darth Daiara

War, the thing Oceiros had once feared most. He’d feared war more than he feared the Sith, for it was in war where he’d lost his family. Where he’d lost his famed cousin. Yet no matter where Oceiros hid war always found him in one way or another. War had come to Brentaal, bringing with it death and destruction the likes of which the Jedi had never seen. It was also on Brentaal that Oceiros learned that he could no longer run, that he couldn’t hide, that there was something beyond simply himself. Arcanus wouldn’t have hid, no true Sunstrider would continue to bury their face in the sand while injustice and tyranny reigned around them. No longer was the Epicanthix running from war, now he marched in it.

Alongside the Jedi there were numerous Galactic Alliance soldiers and stormtroopers that moved through the streets. Standing atop a tank, Oceiros kept an eye out across the streets. Smoke and flames billowed to the sky, above the skies taking on the appearance of death. Oceiros could feel it as he looked across the cityscape, the force in turmoil, an odd sensation filling his being. This wasn’t a fight between light and dark, the Jedi weren’t the true reason behind this fight against the Sith. It went beyond that, it was a fight about reclaiming what was once lost. Those who’d once served the Sith returned to claim the home they’d fought for, bled for, and had sought to protect, many willing to do whatever necessary to reclaim it. This world wasn’t the Sith, it showed how little the Sith overlords cared for the planet by not evacuating it, by leaving civilians behind in the midst of a battle they knew was soon to come.

Oceiros’ heart was heavy as they approached the Bastion Academy, he could feel the presence of those within, all those that had been tainted by the dark. Those who’d had their thoughts clouded and manipulated by the Sith believing that it was the true way to live. “Watch your fire, when possible use stun rounds, glop grenades and sonic weapons. We will not be killing children today. Those who resist-” Oceiros stopped, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat. Never did he think he’d have to do such a thing.


“Those who resist, do what you must.” With the order given, the troops descended upon the Academy, pushing into the courtyard. Legionnaires and Sith alike rushed out to meet the hail of blaster and sonic rounds. Hopping from his position above the tank, Oceiros came down in a cleave that freed a legionnaire of their arm before spinning and thrusting through the shoulder of another.

Making his way through the crowd the epicanthix, did what he could to defend his soldiers as well as incapacitate their enemies. Each slash a regret, and then it came from nowhere. A banshee of the night came flying out landing upon one of the troopers.

“Get her off me, get this queen the fuck off me!” The soldier screeched trying to fight the Sith acolyte off his allies, turning and raising their weapons towards them both.

“Noooo!” Oceiros shouted over the melee charging towards them but it was too late as a bloom of flame came to life. The inferno stretched out swallowing the entire squad including the one being used as a shield, white plastoid armor charred and turned black, the screams of the troopers filled the Jedi’s ears as he could do nothing but watch them fall to the ground and cease moving.

Staring through the carnage and fire to the lone figure who did this Oceiros’ cobalt eyes reflected the flames, and within those eyes was nothing but pity. Raising a hand and shoving it out, a concussive wave escaped the epicanthix’s palm, the flames shunted aside in its wake as it sought to fling the witch back.

Who wouldn't resist? This was their home.

The storm troopers fell dead in the courtyard they had invaded, their once pristine bodies charred and contorted as death boiled them alive. Aradia laid splayed in the center of it all, a look of shock rippling through her soot-stained features. She hurriedly shoved off the storm trooper she had tackled, blisters bubbling across the skin that remained in contact with his still simmering form.

She was not invulnerable to flames, nor the reality of deaths around her.

She had never killed someone before. A subtle quake rippled from her core, a horrified noise catching in her chest. She hadn't meant to do that. They were just-- and she- A sudden shock wave sent her flying backwards, her cry hitting the air as she tumbled like a rag-doll to a stop. Pain knocked her breathless, the burns singing the most poignant song across her nerve endings. She looked up between strands of red to find the lone remaining threat-- a man, his hand extended as he used the force against her. Her blurry vision cleared to a spike of fear.

Oh yes. She had been warned about this. Force users always had it out for each other, that was why this war was here. People with power always came to take what they wanted. She had heard the stories. She knew the truth.

He was here to kill her.

Her fear turned cold, self-preservation kicking in.

A shove of the force sent Aradia flying off the ground, onto her feet. Her clothing hung off her in charred strips, revealing a thin frame marred with scars and puckering burns. The pain of it all fell to the back of her thoughts, her training kicking in.

Her fingers slid to her belt line, where a saber laid in wait.

"Get. Off. My. Lawn!" She yelled, finding courage and strength inside each consecutive word. A snap hiss punctuated her final syllable, the dark red length of her saber sparking to life. It held raised before her in a wordless threat. He was not passing into the Academy without first going through her.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: It's all lies //:
//: Defend Our Home //:
//: Close Allies //: Ellie Mors //:
//: Enemies //: Kir Dantos //: Darth Assimilus //:
//: Equipment //: Lightsaber //: Lightsaber //: Gildenweave Dress //:

​

To most, the Sith were cold, calculated. Destruction was on the tip of their tongue as they summoned chaos to the battlefield. Yet, not all Sith were the monstrosities that younglings were warned of. Others felt the freedom of the dark side of the Force. To feel their own power, emotions, and the whims of their own desires. Nothing was telling them that something was forbidden or undesirable. Quinn valued the feelings she had grown up feeling, using them and wielding them like a weapon. Strong emotions fueled the dark side, the Light seemed to shy away from them. There was too much control for Quinn's taste. ​

Something stirred in the Force, the invisible being churred and weaved the stories of the players. Quinn could feel the whispers of one searching, she knew who it was. There had been a hope that the boy wasn't as dumb as he looked, his face she hated that at one point she figured he was OK looking, but now he was just stupid looking. She hated his foolish face; she hated that he helped her, and Quinn hated that for one second, she felt any ounce of emotion towards the Jedi. Surviving a horrid planet like Myrkr did that to you, and they created a connection that she wished to eradicate from existence. ​

Through the Force, the Echani felt her opponent. Chance had brought them together, but destiny would weigh on her side. Soft platinum locks swayed as she turned to where he had landed, their gaze met and she couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face. He really was a fool to enter this war that wasn't his. ​

The Jedi, always throwing their noses into conflicts that didn't pertain to them. Quinn looked back to Vesta one last time then started to move towards the battle that laid before her. A step down from the level she was, she could feel time slow as she headed towards this fated battle. ​

Whispers in the Force echoed as she continued on, one voice called out stronger than Kir's; it was a voice that she had looked up to most of her life. Stopping, the Echani peered around searching for the source. He wasn't anywhere visually near, but he was close. Fingers tightened around the hilt of her progenitor's blade, the urge to follow the voice beckoned her. Knowing that Bastard was here drew the youngest Varanin's attention for a moment, as much as she loved her brother, she wanted to be the only one to face him in battle. ​

Today wasn't that day, today she didn't get to prove to him that she was just as good, she deserved to be their mother's child. Today Errant remained out of reach, and the siblings continued to be two sides of the same coin. ​

Attention returned to the Jedi before her, she drew close enough for him to speak to her. Quinn smiled, maybe a part of her was happy to see him, but it was only because she needed to dispose of him. His words plagued her mind at times of weakness, but the princess' path was set already - her destiny worked the wheels of time. ​

"Hey, Kir." She mocked in a soft and tender voice, "Have you finally come to throw yourself at the dark side's foot? To let yourself finally be free of the constraints of the Light? Of the Jedi?"​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

// Legion Commander // 307th Red Riders //
// Armor / Hand Of God / Rifle / Pistol / Saber(s) / Grenade //
// Fortress Carnifex // Flanking // Surrounding City Sector
// Allies : NIO / Lucien Dooku Avernus @Anyone nearby
// Enemy : TSE / Jain

F u r y O h F u r y​

---

---

<”Multiple cloaks identified, activity one sector east-”>

<”Bronco Company Two reporting, enroute to Fortress. Engaging enemy infantry on the road now.”>

<”Company Two, you’re responsible for the left flank-keep pace,”> Lyra ordered, a visual erupting from the holo receiver on her vambrace as the last drop ship unloaded the next avenue over. The mantle of command still bore it's weight on her but her concerns had evolved from the petty doubts of yesterday. Lyra grimaced adjusting through the channels, there were explosions that echoed over the line and a shrill ringing noise engulfed the audio. Tilting her helmet up, the transmission fizzled out as she pressed forward in unison with Bronco lead.

<”Droid lines are at twenty five percent strength and failing..”>

<"Recall the droid line and regroup, armors rolling in now.">

From the thickest of the tar black smoke came rolling out the lead Cataphract, the gleam of blaster fire reflected across the metal surface. The tank’s repulsors rumbled and the company of troopers raced out beside it into the harrowing storm of blaster bolts, the soldiers of the Vindicated opened fire. Rifles and heavy repeaters peppered the city block that had turned into a meat grinder, troopers falling before they could retaliate-dead before they raised their guns out of the smoke.

With her own weapon hefted up to sights, the woman laid into the resistance in the face of the murky vision from the impact cloud. Her finger feathering the trigger as the recoil snapped against her shoulder cathartically. The sun barely reached the avenue here, filtering through the haze-tricking the eyes and Lyra gritted her teeth, tracking her targets carefully. The A.I highlighting the faint forms of the troopers across the HUD screen, and she picked between them-the sith forces had dug in deep in the roadway behind the slate blockades; scattering shots across what gaps lined their defense. The collective fire and tibanna gas fueled the symphony.

Weaving carefully up the road way, blast bolts licked her shoulder whizzed past her screen. The intersection was dogged by shrapnel and plasma as the tank stalled at her side. A soldier dropped beside her-caught in the chest, a blackened and smoking bolt mark eating into his side. He was screaming his blast plate making a dull snap as it hit the cement.

<”I need advance medical teams on retrieval,”> Lyra said instinctively, stooping down under fire as shots continued to eat away at the road. The broken transmission had sent ice rushing through her veins but she wad distracted by the blood pooling on the cement.

Another trooper scrambled by but she yanked him aside, pointing silently to the dying soldier. Her gauntlet flew to the stock of her rifle, steadying the blaster as she covered him as they pulled the man back. Silently she mouthed her ammo count, burning through the clip faster than she would have liked. The rear guard that accompanied her fanned out around, they weren't the boys from Genesis Company. No they had their own task with the AA-encampments and paving the way for the Legion under Nima Appw'rii seasoned command. Lyra had to settle for the degenerate ex-milita and rag tag band here though, they had their own bite but she was restricted in movement-there eyes watching her back alone.

The surrounding companies swarmed the neighboring streets in as they pushed as one Legion in, Irveric’s transmission echoed in her ears. A heavy breath escaped her as she dropped the power cell, reloading and creeping up along with the main tank. She listened to the crackle on the radio as he signed off-sentiment was cruel. It was difficult to imagine them making it out of this prison between steel skyscrapers and fire on the ground. It was all his doing in the end and her lips molded into firm frown. What use was there in lingering in worry and Lyra steeled herself.

<”Target locked-”>

There was a low whine from Bronco’s main battle tank on her right and the armored company halted behind. Brace struts extended off the armor locking it on the black top causing the street to quake. The repulsors dimmed, siphoning the power reserves into the turbolaser and she listened to the Iktochi give the order, the kick back stirred up the dust on the road as the tank fired. The percussion dampened on the audio but she felt the punch through her chest, a volley of cannon fire raining down on the city block. Red bolts arced past the complexes, pounding the sith-imperial barricades in; stone pulverized and the unfortunate soldier eviscerated in the explosion.

<”Cloak on the move-”> the link died in static and Lyra tilted her head.

<”Who has sights on the cloak?”> Lyra radioed and she searched around the smoke addled road; she had a bad feeling. The communications were a cross referenced mess and her brows furrowed at new reports came in-they were a conventional force not one designed for direct combat with Force-users. It wouldn’t stop the inevitable though and a shadow of doubt crept into her mind.

The heat sweltered and Lyra’s audio receptors picked up the snap of gun fire all around. There was a mechanical click that reverberated off the street’s buildings before the tanks sputtered back to life behind her and chugged ahead. It would be bloody that was the only promise. Troopers continued to push forward past her and Lyra waved the squads on, reaching out through the Force. A faint explosion cropped up midway down the road, metal and debris as a thermal detonated and she ducked, reeling back. Her eyes sought out the cerulean map-

<”I need confirmation who has sights on this cloak!”> Lyra demanded, several negatives read and her head swiveled-there was the sharp snap of life and death around feeding into the chaos.

<”Something fast is on the move, just south of-”> the transmission cut suddenly and Lyra seethed, they were being hunted and her hand dropped to the metallic cylinder on her hip.

The radar blinked, there was a harsh crack and guttural cry behind her and she tensed- and she felt the souring note constricting in her chest and Lyra whipped around-wisps of smoke dancing around her form as she stirred the air. There was no taming it, she had only grown more attuned in the Force. A shadow descended upon her and Lyra felt the dark presence-too fast too fast.

Her only defense was the rifle-and the woman raised her arm with it in hand as a blunt force slammed into the raised limb and gun. A ugly crack resounded from the stock of the weapon, firmly planted feet stolen out from under her as she was flung back back; boots sputtering to life as the thrusters activated. The A.I sprung to life-augmenting her movements as she caught up, rolling out over the pavement several feet, armor scraping against the rough surface-ugly white marks marred the stretch of plate. The blunt force radiated through her limb, her arms aching.

It had knocked the wind from her and Lyra coughed and gasped, throwing her shoulder in to it as she rolled herself over. A low guttural noise escaped her throat, her lip curled into an invisible sneer; shrouded behind screen and tenebrae. Well she had her answer and her yes narrowed, it was right on top of them. Planting a gauntlet on the ground, Lyra set her sights on the Force-user and chucked the broken rifle aside; the weapon bouncing and skirting across the road. On the screen, a crimson outline flickered over the assailant and the A.I offered little information, across the screen the aurbesh only listed humanoid. They'd be dead by the end of the day either way, the cold little voice in the back of her mind whispered-reminding her. Troopers racing past scrambled to a halt, orders flying out as they raised the weapons in defense and she threw her hand up-warning them.

<”All Vindicate squads keep pushing! I’ll handle the Cloak,”> Lyra roared over the link, as she brought her knee up and sprung to her feet. The rear guard darted out of range-monitoring as the rest of the troopers hesitated, dragging their plates before returning to the advance. <"Leftenant Arroyo keep your eyes out for more Cloak activity-radio Archer actual and Bronco I need this area cleared out now!">

<"Damn bastar-right on it now ma'am! Get your asses movin-"> the Zabrak Officer's link broke, Appw'rii had picked him out and Lyra was beginning to understand why.

Her servo grasped at the vibroknife strapped to her chest, yanking it out from it’s sheath. She didn't want to see another massacre and they had a task at hand and the woman trusted them to keep the pressure on. She wasn't alone but there was to much risk in their interference. With a few heavy steps, she surged forward-HUD flickering dark as she channeled the Force. Was it a Knight she wondered, an Apprentice? Her teeth grinding as she weighed the fight, shaking out her arm to chase the pain away. That was a mistake though and her gauntlet tightened dangerously on the grip of the blade, teetering between control and the thick of the fight.

Corner and redirect was her prime objective, and an exacerbated noise bubbled in her throat-she didn’t need the A.I to track them in the shadows; there presence was like a signal flare. Lyra closed the distance in several large strides-boots pounding on the ground as she lashed out with the blade in a series of swipes and thrusts, following the tug in her mind. She needed to gauge them and her gauntlets dropped suddenly, her body twisted and she fell to one knee as she swept out her leg to catch the Forcer-user off; the thrusters activating in a hellish spurt of fire in the haze.

 

[Kir Dantos]

​

Bastion, Braxant Run
Surface
TAGS:
Maynard Treicolt Loske Treicolt Ryv Quinn Varanin Ellie Mors

​

It was almost..refreshing to see her again. To know, that the culmination of his fears and doubts was all here. So much had been learned, and so much still to learn, but that would have to wait. From his own knowledge, the Sith and Jedi had existed for millenia and millenia before the birth of his great grandparents even. Learning of the Force as a youngling, it seemed like a tool to be used to bring good, but everything, the bloody battlefields of Fornax, the hell on Myrkr, the duel on Coruscant. They'd taught him that the Force was altogether different to his lightsaber.

The padawan stood stoic as conflict raged around him, light versus dark, good versus evil. He didn't focus on what memories the past brought, but just the aspects of the Force, cascading from every midichlorian to the kyber crystal in his lightsaber. Dagobah had changed his whole perspective, for better or for worse. It pained him that he hadn't appreciated knowledge earlier. How it might've made him not just a better Jedi, but a better person.

Quinn seemed confident. The wool of the dark side pulled over her eyes, but under that facade, he could feel disappointment and inadequacy. Sith had a certain audacity about them that bugged people, how they boasted of their strength, measured in their ability to hurt someone. That was the exact thing that got him riled up. Learning to acknowledge them as a possibility in the galaxy was part of the process of learning, that underneath that charade, was a hunger, a perpetual starvation that could never truly be satiated.

The two had been brought together for a reason. A purpose, ever since he'd left Myrkr, the day that they finally reunited in dispute had dominated his thoughts. Momentarily turning, he spotted his master scouring the battlefield for him, Ryv and Loske getting ready to launch from the dropship. If he didn't see this through to the end, he'd be letting down those who'd given him so much and whom he cared about the most. He didn't want Maynard here, this was his fight, and his fight alone, it wasn't Maynard's and he couldn't force that burden on his teacher.

Kir found it strange that the young woman would smile. It made his resolve stronger than ever, in his experience, it was a stress reliever, and he could tell the pressure was on her too. Narrow-minded was the word he'd use, for her own beliefs, and at times, his own.

"It takes strength to resist the pull of the dark side, only the weak embrace it. I won't live my life ruled by fear and darkness. I choose to resist the Sith, in any form. You can't be saved, I tried on Myrkr, but I failed. I'm sorry about what happened to you and that you cannot see it my way."

"After the debacle on the jungle planet, I took a trip, to Dagobah. To learn, and my vision, my version of the story has been permanently changed."

"I will do what I must."

A hand wrapped around a cylindrical object on his utility belt. It glinted in the twilight, and could only be recognised as the ancient weapon of both the Sith and the Jedi. When the two had first met, he'd wielded an emerald blade, but now, he was a changed person. Hitting the button on the top side, an orange blade shot out of the top of the hilt, casting an apricot glow across the floor. Go time.

Spoiler: Lightsaber

 

[Agrippa]

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

​

To the slaughter. All of us, all of them. The skies darkened giving in to the heavy black smoke. The stench of death carried over across the whole planet. I gutted a young recruit lying on the ground dying a slow death, there was no pleasure to be found. These were once our brothers but they chose to serve and we chose to rise. Break the chains of the Sith yoke for eternity.

I found a lapse of solace behind the ruins of a destroyed defensive emplacement. It lasted only a moment. The casualty report sucked the blood from my face, I was as pale as the armor I wore. The tally was far too costly. All for what? Again the doubts haunted me. Most of the Company had been mercenary degenerates when the war had started, while we didn't admit it avarice was our driving factor we didn't really hide it with our actions. There was much money to be made on looting and pillaging. Yet, we forged an unbreakable bond with each body of a brother we left behind or buried. From Muunlinst to Borosk to Dubrillion - all the price of blood we paid changed us, made us Imperials. Greed no longer pushed us onward.

Vengeance? No.

Justice.

I stood up from my cover and rushed onward towards the rest of my comrades. Gladius Company leading the charge, the tattered banner standing tall and proud. Krayt was indomitable. His whole platoon was decimated. The banner stood.

And that's all that mattered. We do or die.

Dorn-2's gunship pilot knew that best. His sacrifice would not be in vain.

Out of the smoldering ash and smoke, I rose my vibroblade to the sky and whirled it to rally the troops into yet another push, this time into the confines of the Fortress itself. A glance up at the buildings top where the Sith Empire flag fluttered its reign of terror, I knew what must be done.

I shut off the casualty report crushing down over my HUD and called into the comms to all units storming Fortress Carnifex:

<"DISREGARD THE LOSSES!">

<"THE FORTRESS IS OURS TO TAKE!">
​

<"SERVE ME BASTION ON A PLATE!">

---

---

R I P O S T E _ T W O
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
T H E _ D A Y _ T H A T _ N E V E R _ C O M E S

<"DISREGARD THE LOSSES....">

Prisoners of fate, an eternal cycle of bloodshed, a legacy of hate.

The friendships made and lost, taken away forcefully. The brothers we never had the time to bury left somewhere behind to be ravaged by vultures. The ghosts that haunted us beyond the realms of death. Orphans and widows, shattered futures and broken dreams. All we left behind us was suffering.

What is the purpose of it all?

After the war, who will we be fighting for?

Nile did not know. He only knew to follow orders. When his brother, Lord Gremul, assaulted the defensive emplacement of the Sith-Imperials, Nile Gillian could only keep pulling the trigger along with the rest of what was left of Riposte Company providing the so much needed suppressive fire.

They would only stop when the order was given.

That is all they knew.

A tear slid down his eye, a herald of bitter news, an omen of grief.

 

[Thaelius]

P E R F E C T _ T H E _ A R T _ O F _ W A R

​

// LOCATION //: HMIS Thrawn, High Orbit, Bastion
// UNIT //: Sith-Imperial | War Fleet Iron Halo
// OBJECTIVE //: You Already Know
// ALLIES //: | Grand Moff Aut-X TE-236 Onrai Moon Seo-Yun Melia Siari | TSE Fleeters
// ENEMIES //: | Dracken Pryce Var Koon Olen Halcorr Del Lovruc Zori Kapshan Hiram Voss | NIO/GA Fleeters

​

"Just as I predicted. It seems Admiral Koon is determined to destroy the Crimson Dawn before it can fire it's Autocannons. Brave, but so hindsighted"

The tactical hologram before Thaelius shifted and changed itself several times over, before finally presenting a viable tactical algorithm, based upon the strategies employed by the enemy. His second find command nodded before looking back down to the communications station.

"Acknowledged, Grand Moff. General TE-236, reinforcements are indeed required. Dispatch them at your whim"

Thaelius however, was more focused on the unfolding battle within the system. His blood red eyes stared at the two dreadnoughts which seemed to anchor the separate allied fleets.

"Deploy the Apollo and Artemis. Apollo is to fire it's Power Crystal Cannon at the Shadowbringer, followed by it's Autocannons. Artemis is to target the Ouroboros. Reinforce our lines. I want Athena Squadron 2 to interlock and deploy it's shield permiter to protect the Crimson Dawn as it primes it's Autocannons"

The comm officer nodded and relayed the orders to the rest of the fleet. "Deploy the Strike Frigates and Corvettes. I want them to target the NIV Pentinet. Have the Knighthammer back them up"

Spoiler: War Fleet Iron Halo

1x

Spoiler: War Fleet Iron Halo

Autarch Class Siege Breaker
2x Alveare Class Star Destroyer
2x Veles Class Star Destroyers
4x Brocadia Class Star Destroyer
4x Marr Class Star Destroyer
4x Baras Class Star Destroyer
6x Dramath Class Strike Frigate
6x Thanton Class Corvettes
20 Athena Class Shield Frigates

Fleet Actions: The Intercessor Class Destroyer's have fired thier Power Crystal Cannons followed by thier Autocannons at thier respective targets. 2 Thanton Class Corvettes a s Dramath Class Strike Friagets have been deployed to make a bombing run on the NIV Pentinet. The Marr Class Star Destoyer Knighthammer has also been deployed to destroy the New Imperial flagship. All other ships on standby.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: Gardens of Pellaeon
Tags: Rurik Fel

W A R​

The Lord of Lies stalked the halls of the Pellaeon Gardens their beauty stained with blood and marred by the evidence of recent conflict. Sith-Imperial Legionnaires and New Imperial Stormtroopers lay dead down every corridor where they fell, price in pain and souls as one empire strived to overtake another. It was a slow, grinding methodical war of inches fought over every scrap of ground. The cost of lives would be immense no matter the outcome whether the New Imperial Order reigned triumphant or the Sith Empire managed to throw down the traitor imperials. It was a war that would change lives forever. Families would be shattered and broken as husbands, wives, mothers, fathers would find their families sundered for the cause of loyalty, fidelity, servitude in the name of ones own country. When the briefness of glory faded it was followed with a night of tears and sadness. For most the conflict would lose its meaning after their loves ones never came home. Even those who did return wouldn't come home the same, forever changed by what they witnessed. But for the Mountain? For the Son of Maena? War was as much apart of his life as breathing. He was brought into this world in the fires of war.

As he moved he said nothing and an unsettling silence fell from him. Only the sound of his power armors hissing and wheezing, the stomp of his boots on the stone, the occasional crunch as bone snapped and flesh ripped on the corpses he stomped over. Out of the sea of lifeless dead stepped one man.

A man of iron.

A form encased in steel that stood with the reservation and experience of a tried and tested warrior. A steadfast dam in the flood of fear and madness that poured from the towering giant who stood like a beating heart of void energy. The man of iron didn't need to utter a word, the force spoke for him as it gathered to his call. There was an aura of nobility behind the actions he took. The giant could feel the flame of life flickering behind him, the presence of more of his number that accompanied him into the beautiful halls. Instead he faced down the reaper to bear that burden so others didn't have to. It was a brave effort. The towering giant spoke no words to the man of iron, the noble warrior who stood before him. He merely pointed the gigantic greatsword at him, and a great gout of blue fire exploded in a wave towards him. The sheer heat of this flame rooted in the dark powers melted stone and metal, turning the ground to glass before it as it surged towards the man.

It was only then that the giant came.

The towering Shadow Hand's legs lit up with glowing runes as enchantments rooted in power from the Witches of Dathomir glowed bright. It shouldn't have been possible with the immensity of his armor if one hadn't seen it with their own eyes, yet it was undeniably true to see him surge towards the man with a speed that shouldn't have been possible to close the distance in the hall.

 

[Darth Assimilus]

​

Location:
Enemies: Quinn Varanin
GA Friend-enemies: Kir Dantos
Equipment: Armor, Sithsword, Rifle
Vehicle: BARC Speeder Bike

From above the twinkles of light and sounds of thunderous combat seemed so distant and far. Low cloud cover wafted past view in blurrs of white. Moisture in the air touched the outer plating of both speeder and driver before gracefully bouncing away back into the air all around. Large hand and foot shifted signalling a change in controls. There was a guttural roar before afterburners and additional thrusts screamed. Twisted metal. Exceeding well past 525km/h, The armored driver leaned, steering his vehicle down into a dive. Behind hidden view a smile grew wide. Nearing the ground, Pulling up and drifting into a turn. Kezeroth found his armor, Sithsword, speeder bike and rifle slung around his body painted a new shade of fresh crimson. Sith military armor, limbs and helmets that were once grounded had been given wings to fly cracked and busted wherever they pleased. In a flash several lives had been erased from existence. A red mist.

He had lost his mind.

The maneuver had immediately garnered heavy attention onto him. That was, after all, the plan. A distraction to serve the NIO to gain a new foot hold in the battlefield. " Advance! NOW! You maggots!" A force augmented scream boomed from Kezeroths mouth into the battlefield. With a quick glance He inspected the side of his BARC speeder and frowned. Head sized dents rattled its outer armor and rear engine show signs of medium carbon scoring. Kark! Another roar of the engines burst, heaving Kezeroths body back in sheer momentum. Once again in an attempt to gain altitude his gaze and handle over the controls shifted at an angle into the skies. Blaster fire was the least of his worries from the alerted Sith troopers in pursuit of him with their own speeders. Their anti-vehicle weaponry on the other hand was a problem. Even now their weapons were locked on him and there was little he could do to stop it from happening. He could sense the danger all around, but also something or rather someone else.

Someone familiar yet estrange.

BOOM!

The light produced from the resulting explosion briefly lit up the sky before returning to a dim shade of blue-ish grey. Speeder reduced to spare parts to fall to the earth below like meteorites trailing smoke and fire from the heavens. Midst the wreckage a large body also fell, steaming and smoking. Poised to land rough Kezeroth grunted and groaned activating his jetpack so close to the ground. His momentum steering him into a ruined structure with a crashing thud. It was only after his large body rose from the ruble that he took in the sight of two individuals prepared to duel. Of the two, one of them felt... strange. It poked and prodded his aged mind till bouts of anger tossed a toiled within.

Who? Who? Who?
Why do I know them?

 

[Ellie Mors]

Tourner Dans Le Vide

Location: Imperial Capital Complex, Gilad Pellaeon Arboretum
Objective: Assume the Will of Typhojem
Close Allies: Quinn Varanin
Confirmed Enemies: The New Imperial Order | Maynard Treicolt , Ryv , Possible Others
Equipment: Talon of Typhojem, Red Saberstaff, Simmersilk Clothing

He knew before she had left his side that the two would be alone - only that wasn't quite so, as the two Jedi approached the Sith Lord he knew that he was never going to be as alone as they were, blinded as they were by their idealistic light. "I am still with you." He said solemnly as he took in the sight of Kir Dantos during his approach, confident that Quinn was more than capable of handling someone of his amateurish stature, before breaking away from her as the real threat came. Where the padawan carried himself with naive confidence and blind zeal, his eyes still pure, hopeful, if only beginning to understand the reality of war, Ryv and Maynard Treicolt were solemn, impassioned - their eyes showed their experience better than any sort of presence in the force ever could, their body language speaking louder than any title ever would.

Echoes in the force, of an experience from the one that had brought him into this world, whispered on the silent breeze, words that would only be heard by his ears - him. There was no further explanation, only the sensation of the cold void of space - of the crumbling feeling of sand, of dust, of life being sucked away like a specter from its host - and he knew his match had been made. Red eyes caught sight of a gaze that set on Quinn and the padawan, the grip of his hand on the lightsaber he held tightening as he moved quickly, urgently, to bridge the gap and cut his approach off before he could intervene and give aid to the boy that had came to challenge his own apprentice. His form shifted, dark hair burning red, then growing, lengthening, until it fell below shoulders that shrunk and became slender as the features of his face softened and his body grew and shrunk in other places while he moved.

"The princess has her partner, she doesn't need another." His voice, too, had changed - softer, feminine - but his eyes, her eyes as they now clearly were, remained as bright and as red as ever. Though the padawan's master was the only one that had caught sight of the budding duel between apprentices, the protective urge in her forced out the proceeding challenge to both Jedi, unwilling to allow either to slip by to threaten Quinn Varanin 's chances to improve.

"I am more than enough for the both of you."​

 

[Nida Perl]

Gotterdammerung | Imperial Capital Complex | Datacenter

Allies | Cara Dorniarn

Enemies | Amon Vizsla | Tulan Kor | Meshla Detta

Everything happened rapidly in battle, so it was agony to lay in wait. The Imperials were hammering through the external walls of the data center at an alarming pace, so it wouldn’t be long now. Sith troops were stationed around the perimeter, but Nida had been assigned to the complex’s core. Upon learning that she would not be alone, the Zeltron exhaled a sigh of relief. Aerarii Tithe would be keeping track of their positions, undoubtedly.

Mirroring the bow to the short haired woman and her companion, Nida chewed her lower lip. “I suppose…imminent.” She cast a nervous glance to the left side of the room where the outside fighting echoed from the loudest. Awkward as ever, Nida was not acquainted with Sith etiquette. “I’m Aco—”

They didn’t have to wait long. Nida rarely took to the front lines, but now the front line had come to her in an explosive entrance to the far wall. The Imperials had breached, and the unsettling familiarity Nida had felt earlier became more potent. Her legs tensed as she braced herself, bringing her arms up to cross over her face on instinct before she had a moment to straighten.

The enemy forces were headed by a figure in Mandalorian beskar’gam, the make of which struck a familiar note in Nida. It was the Vizla man, the one from before. The one who’d given her the dagger she’d used to slay Senator of Duro. She’d looked up the word verd’goten well after their brief interaction, somewhat horrified at the brief glimpse into Mandalorian culture.

They were staring at her.

Not just the Mandalorian, but someone she thought she’d never see again. Tulan Kor was a man that Nida had every reason to be grateful to. He’d mentored Thirdas Heavenshield from rookie soldier to Ranger Lieutenant and was a cornerstone of Thirdas’ success. He’d helped her protect younglings during the Mandalorian assault on Kashyyyk. Notoriously grumpy and tough, Gunny had sacrificed both his name and his position among the Silver Jedi for her. He’d taken the heat of Senator’s assassination off of her shoulders so that she could continue to serve as a Jedi, bearing the weight of her sins even though she was the one that held the knife.

The primal scream that rippled through the stale air of the server room caused her to start, but Nida was not shocked at his reaction. She was sad and afraid. Tulan’s pain and brutal intentions rippled off of him like wind whipping violently around a tornado; he wanted her life as retribution. Given what she’d done, how she’d betrayed him and the others?

Nida had to agree.

But fear was surging through her, fear wrought by self-preservation and twisted into the rationalization that this was where she’d belonged all along. She was a Zambrano by blood, stolen from her true mother by the wicked, misguided woman who’d raised her.

Tulan charged towards her like an angry, dropping his weapon in the process. His eyes had never left her, full of the same manic hatred that had filled her while attacking the senator. Well aware that her physical capabilities were lacking, the Zeltron wrapped one hand around the beskar dagger Amon had given her, tucked into the folds of her cloak. With the other hand, she thrust her palm outwards to rush the incoming commando with the push of the Force. Her assault lacked power intentionally, aiming to conserve her strength and either knock him off-kilter or slow him down.

Her voice drifted into Tulan’s mind, figuring she’d be unable to verbalize above the din.

“I’m sorry, Gunny. This is where I’ve always belonged.”

Nida wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

 

[Hiram Voss]

Allies: Var Koon | Hugot Tyvek VII | Gordon | Dracken Pryce | Olen Halcorr | Constantine Oliva | Del Lovruc
Enemies: Grand Moff Aut-X | Onrai | TE-236 | Melia Siari | Thaelius
Objective: Scrap the Droids.
Location: NIV Endeavour, Bastion Orbit
Command: New Imperial Seventh Fleet, Battlegroup 'Roan Fel'

Spoiler: Battlegroup 'Roan Fel'

Cruisers:
6x Cuirassier-Class Cruisers [x]
3x Stalwalt-Class Carriers [x]
10x Valiant-Class Cruisers [x]

Frigates:
5x Tirallieur-Class Frigates [x]
11x EF96-Nebulon B Frigates [x]

Corvettes:
12x Cacadore-Class Corvettes [x]
18x Gurkha-Class Corvettes [x]
20x Warrior-II Class Corvettes [x]
15x Vandal-Class Corvettes [x]

​

Hiram listened to Captain Tyvek's report with some feigned concern. Of course. What a bloody set back. Already. Still, the Commodore offered some slight assurance to the younger man, "Stay strong Captain, and trust in your men." The naval officer advised, "We'll see it through." Hopefully. Turning his attentions to the battlefield at large, Hiram scowled at the larger Sith formations. "Alrighty, Captain Du Plessis," Voss began, moving his attention to coordination of artillery, "Admiral Koon's vessel is firing at the Autocannons on that Siege Breaker. Do us a favour and fire a salvo or two, see if we can put the squeeze on them."

"Of course Commodore." Senior Captain Marcellus Du Plessis replied in his thick Rylothian accent. Hiram watched as the Tirallieur-Class frigates, armed with their heavy hypervelocity gun rounds primed themselves for firing, rotating slowly and then pausing once they'd found their arc. Then, shields flickering off, they began to fire. One after another, almost like a surface artillery battery, rounds streaking toward the Sith-Imperial fleet and those weapons that may harm or stifle the offensive down below.

Satisfied that the Sith-Imperial base delta zero capability would soon be dealt with, Hiram's gaze fell upon the imposing fleet of antiquities. The commander in charge seemed to have tried, impotently to stop an oncoming charge. And perhaps that would be true. But not yet at least. "Captain Tetch," Hiram barked, summoning the seasoned corvette commander with some venom in his tone, "Sally forth and charge the enemy," Hiram commanded, "Seems they're trying to use fighters to screen against bombers. But we'll see how they take to something a little beefier to size." Voss cackled with wry amusement, "Charge see if you can damage or disable the enemies ion cannons on our designated target. Dubrillion style, of course."

"As you wish Commodore," Captain Freida Tetch mused, the holographic projection of her features stone cold as she turned to the subordinate commanders. "Alright, ladies, gentlemen, follow my lead." Tetch and a vast portion of the figures now flickered off, as they prepared themselves, and then left. Hiram turned briefly to watch as the fleet of corvettes now powered their engines and sped toward the collection of out of place looking ships. Hiram's view of the spectacle was however shattered by Captain Tyvek.

"Commodore," Hiram turned and looked around rather annoyed at Tyvek, "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...” Hiram scowled and took in the information, before pausing and looking at the battle display. He watched as the corvettes easily began to out manouvere the ad-hoc attempt at a blockade and made a beeline for the battlecruisers ion cannons, dispensing a powerful payload of missile based ordinance as they approached. Of course. Droids. More droids. Hiram's mind flashed back to his days in the First Order, and the Sixth Fleet. But that had been different. The late Grand Admiral Rausgeber had been a newer, custom model. Where had the Sith Empire decided to excavate a bucket of bolts like this from? It was awfully telling that they now relied upon a fossil to try and spearhead a defence against almost inevitable punishment.

"It makes some sense," Hiram mused, anger having faded, "Seems our enemies lack the same nuance and tact in strategy as the old Confederacy. Please Captain, do elaborate on this exploit you've found." Voss mused before turning back to greater command of his force, "Now, to the rest of you, barring Commander Pyke," Hiram gave at least some leeway to the man in charge of coordinating fighter support, "We shouldn't keep the enemy waiting now, should we?" Voss allowed with a wide grin, "Charge." Now it was his time. The heavy cruiser and EF96-Nebulon elements of Hiram's task force set course for antiquated droid fleet, beginning to pound the ancient vessels with their weapons systems. The NIV Endeavour stood at the tip of the charge, closing in on one of the first of the Providence cruisers. "Prepare for broadside, we're going to light these bastards up!"

 

[Caulder Dune]

​

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

He hummed a little marching tune. A jaunty Imperial one, with those loud wind sections. Adekos had long lost his taste for empires and Imperials, but the music still caught his ears. Bombastic. That was the word. Even if the accompanying background noise of people shooting and being shot was a little underwhelming.​

​

Adekos idly traced his finger along the surfaces of a few mainframes as he passed them. Their indicator lights flickered and died. Circuits crossed, power shorted. Unresponsive. Inaccessible. Couldn’t delete what you couldn’t access. That would only be helpful if this place was secured intact. It happened that his jovial moods were accompanied by self-assured ones.​

​

But he had been neither jovial or self-assured when coming up with his plans for pillaging whatever scraps of Sith-Imperial data he could forage. Which meant he had a suitable parallel plan in mind.​

​

Once he grew closer to the control room, he dug a few disk-shaped objects out from a pocket and lazily tossed them, one by one, at a few random mainframes he happened to pass. Needle-like legs extended, latching onto hard surfaces. The miniscule droids offered high-pitched chirps and beeps before skittering away, vanishing deeper into the maze.​

​

There. That was all taken care of. Adekos generally found conducting any sort of business was easier with empty pockets. More comfortable.​

​

The door to the mainframe snapped open for him, and Darth Adekos strode inside rather like he owned the place, heedless of the occupants, murderous lightsaber humming away.​

​

Redundant. All lightsabers were murderous.​

​

“Let’s all stop what we’re doing and step away from the consoles now,” he droned, with the kind of banality one places a ‘usual’ restaurant order with. “Who’s in charge here?”​

​

Who was around? A few inconsequential technicians – Infocytes, maybe. A young, plain looking man resplendent with the Dark Side. A frumpy girl, also palpable with the Dark Side but overshadowed by the man.​

​

It made him question why he bothered asking.​