Death To The False Emperor (Coup of the Dark Lord, Open to all One Sith)

[Darth Carnifex]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duCjJepYaWM​

​

The Sith Lord grunted with indifference as [member="Braxus Zambrano"] recalled to him of @Darth Mythos' fate on Lujo, "It is of no consequence, with or without him my destiny is all but assured." By now the shuttle had long departed from the small fleet, its engines roaring as it cut through the blackness of space like a knife while the sight of Coruscant loomed ever nearer. Already the fight in space had been raging for some time, the loyalist defense fleet trading blows with the insurgent's surprisingly small flotilla. Perhaps this [member="Darth Mephirium"] was saving his full strength for later, much like Vornskr himself was doing, and that meant that the Epicanthix Sith needed to proceed with the utmost caution. Who knew what else Mephirium had managed to conscript into his ranks besides these humdrum mercenaries and dubious, or just plain ignorant, Sith and Imperials.

The shuttle came in at an angle that allowed them to slip by the orbital battle mostly unseen, quickly bursting through the atmosphere and swerving low through the skyscrapers as to avoid visual and scanner detection. The pilots were some of the best in the Empire, personally recruited to pilot Vornskr's shuttle through the worst hellscapes the galaxy had ever seen, and they had rarely failed him in that task. But despite their best efforts to go about undetected they still had to avoid oncoming surface-to-air missile attacks from both insurgent and loyalist alike, both sides unsure about the affiliation of the unmarked and unresponsive shuttle. Quick flashes of the vessel's forward gun emplacements made quick work of most offending parties, although some were just too far out of the way to deal with, and the shuttle continued to thunder on by to its destination.

At last they reached a relatively safe landing juncture nestled among several skyscrapers that offered some cover from aerial units and from any ground forces that may stumble upon them, although as luck would have it a group of insurgent mercenaries just so happened to come across the ship as the boarding ramp was lowering to allow the four passengers exit. The first to disembark was Vornskr himself, armor gleaming in the Coruscanti sun before his eyes settled on the band of brigands as one of the more surly fellows hefted a missile launcher over one of his broad shoulders and took aim at the Imperial craft. With a hard squeeze of the trigger the weapon belched its explosive warhead out in a relatively straight arc at the ship's underbelly, however to the astonishment of his fellow soldiers the missile suddenly stopped halfway between them and the shuttle as if grasped by an invisible hand.

Vornskr had to only twitched his fingers to flip the warhead around and let it fly back to its point of origin, which quickly turned into a roaring ball of flame as all of the mercs were incinerated by their own attack. Whatever screams they made were cut short by the crackling of flame and the melting of durasteel, their charred corpses blown apart and flung in every conceivable direction. "There will be more of their ilk skulking about. No quarter shall be given to these mongrels, scatter their bodies to the wind." Vornskr gestured towards [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"] and the collar wrapped around her neck snapped in two and fell off to either side of her body, useless. She would have to find her own weapons in this battleground, but with the abundance of soldiers and Sith dying left and right that shouldn't be too difficult to achieve. "It is time you are unleashed, Satyijau'ira" and with that said the Sith Lord and his small entourage made their way, on foot, to the Imperial Palace that loomed in the distance.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Subject 37]

The Dark Lords Palace - Front Steps
Allies: [member="Grozkalla"] | [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Braxus Zambrano"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
Objective: Half Interference

"Sir. Sith on approach."

The elements of Saeva Incorporated that had secured the Courtyard around the palace called to Rigor, the droids comm-systems kicking in as it was alerted of an approaching group of Sith Lords. The droid sent back a request for more data, requiring more information in order to make a correctly pointed decision. There was a slight stall, then a datapacket struck Rigor. For a moment the droid simply stood in place, processing the images that it had received and quickly analyzing the data it had received from Gabriel Sinoma through one Alric Kuhn. It stalled for half a second, then turned to the three closest Saeva Incorporated Employees.

[Priority] The droid said out loud for the first time [Kaine Zambrano identified]

The droid began to walk down the front steps, motioning for the three aliens to follow along. Before it got too far the droid walked over to one of the Saeva Employees standing guard at the beginning of the stairs itself, moving towards the man and grasping his rifle from his arms. Rigor took the massive weapon, replacing it in the soldiers hands with It's own VT-Needle Disruptor. The Soldier looked at the droid for a moment then nodded. [Keep the area secure, Commander, take charge. You three, come with me]

The droid signaled to three more soldiers, then began to stalk off towards the front of the courtyard.

The SI-74 was generally used as an anti-vehicle weapon, capable of destroying even armored units. Normally it required someone of immense strength and fortitude to properly utilize, not to mention a laying down position. Rigor, being a droid did not have these limitations.

It moved with the now six soldiers flanking it, heading towards the walls of The Imperial Palace with the Sniper Rifle slung over it's back even as it began to climb one of the large ornate towers that stood at the very gates of the Palace itself. The droid took up a perch, signalling for Laguz to follow suit on the opposite side of it. As soon as it's place was found the droid pulled the weapon from it's back, grasping it around the guard and dropping it's bi-pod even though there was nothing to place the weapon on. The droid waited, simply observing the road towards the Palace and waiting for Darth Vornskr to appear.

 

[The Handmaiden]

[member="Drana'stair'eno"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="Darth Acarus"]

"I would find this course of action..." The Handmaiden trailed off as her head turned towards Adekos, deep yellow eyes setting on the man. "Inadvisable."

Her head slowly turned towards something else, perhaps a sound in the distance, perhaps something that she saw. Her eyes slowly panned, expression shifting as her cloak pulled back slightly to reveal the myriad of facial tattoos that decorated her features. "The Dark Lord knows of this. He will reveal his plans when he is ready."

If he had them.

Slowly The Handaiden shifted, walking over towards the massive set of double doors and placing a hand upon them. She closed her eyes, focusing for but a moment. A chill slowly ran up her spine, a thought slithering through her mind and goosebumps rolling over her flesh. Her head slowly shook from side to side, her eyes folding up beneath their lids, only falling back into proper place when her palm ceased it's contact with the door. A slight dragging step backward and The Handmaiden turned to her companions.

The four others, perhaps the last of the loyal.

"So many have turned." She intoned. "So many turn against the Dark Lord, so why not you?"

The woman questioned them, eyeing them each in turn as they waited for their fates to collide.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

There were not a great many perks to working for the Sith. Sure the pay was good and the equipment generally good quality, but such things were largely a benefit of success, the Republic at its peak never had any trouble providing for its soldiers and spacers. No when you really thought about the Sith were terrible overlords, always battling for authority and control, manipulating and using 'lesser' non-force sensitive beings as tools and resources. Cruel and uncaring, they would just as soon throttle a subordinate in a fit of rage as they would promote a useless incompetent because he knew how to pander and when to hide. Their history was clear on the matter, while they claimed to strive for order it remained an ever elusive goal. They thrived on war and conflict, the stuff of chaos.

It was why in spite of everything, Cyrus always found some satisfaction in working for them. There was always a war to fight.

So it was that as the Republic had begun to fold and the various other large powers of the galaxy implode or collapse to infighting, rumors of a vast conspiracy began to flit about the more shadowy spaces of the galaxy. Attempts to follow up directly had proven immediately useless, and even more covert operations had amounted to nothing. Whoever had been doing the plotting was at least as meticulous a planner as Cyrus, and probably more cautious. But even the rumors held a grain of truth, and that was enough to go off to begin making other plans.

Wheels within wheels, when the great minds of the galaxy began to plot each others downfall it became a matter of keeping up or finding yourself left in the exhaust. There was no coming back from that sort of fallout, and Cyrus didn't intend to die a washed up former admiral in retirement. It was on the bridge of a starship facing a superior opponent or bust.

So he had begun making his own plans. it was simple really, certain ships were selected and seeded with officers and crew who's loyalty could be assured, their troop detachments supplemented or entirely replaced by Helldivers. If some complained that certain officers were treated with more favors, then Cyrus reaction, as always, was that perhaps they should improve the quality of their work.

It still happened to fast. A fleet over Coruscant, seized by some archaic Sith honor duel providing the foundation or a sudden assault. All this while the central administration (read, the Dark Lord) had grown increasingly introspective and silent, either overburdened with the sickening weight of bureaucracy or simply ineffective.

Cyrus flagship, the Dark Blade Contempt was made ready to get underway in a matter of hours, along with three Wyyrlok-class Star Destroyers and a score of smaller escorts. Any available vessels would be drafted along the way, though their loyalty was potentially in doubt. They departed shortly after the first messages were received and arrived shortly after [member="Darth Vornskr"] had stepped foot on Coruscant.

---

Fifty-two Sith warships (including two Dark Blades and four Wyyrlok's) dropped out of hyperspace in a tight formation well outside the general orbital plane. A standard practice to disguise ones arrival, but given the size of the flotilla it was all but certain that someone would detect their cronau radiation. At best, Cyrus figured he had thirty minutes before his comms would be lit up with queries.

"I want immediate intercepts on all comms inbound and outbound the planet. Every channel and freq we can get. Reports every fifteen minutes. Priority is any information about the status of the Dark Lord, Loyalist forces, and any opposition forces. Scanning and tracking divisions get me an update on all military vessels in system in two minutes. I want hourly updates on the readiness of Battlefleet Iron Lance."

Then he paused, watching the veteran crew leap into action with an almost uncanny efficiency. Almost immediately, reports began flowing to the command console, the most notable being that displaying a ongoing battle between two fleets, one consisting of a seemingly random conglomeration of mostly smaller vessels (with a few older star destroyers) and the other, somewhat larger, consisting of One Sith ships.

The would-be insurgent and the Coruscant defense fleet, then. Things looked even for now, probably the advantage of surprise on the part of the traitors, but an extended engagement would inevitably weight things in favor of the loyalists. So either the would-be usurper had planned badly or he had strategic reserves. It didn't take a lot of thought to figure out which was more likely. Cyrus turned to his flag captain.

"Keep us dark, Captain Vayyrel, I want to see how they respond when we show up on their scopes."

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Darth Hauntruss"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Darth Hauntruss]

[member="Julian Valentine"]

The first round came in a crack of light ad heat. It zapped across the distance of the courtyard in a well aimed shot straight at the sorceress. But, Hauntruss all the while had been defusing her presence across the courtyard. Having close her eyes to meditate they suddenly snapped open. The force reacted to her reflexes. It sunk low into her feet and polvolted her into the skies only to land in the middle of the courtyard. The round smashed into a Sith Trooper blowing a hole into his chest. The comrades and Hauntruss herself did not flinch. She grinned and let the insult of the round fuel her rage and thus focus her darkside powers.

Hauntruss took in a deep breath and hissed and pleasurable moan, intoxicated by the battle to come. A wide toothy grin met the sight of a Herglic charging in with a group of warriors brandishing blasters out. [member="Ghorua the Fish"]. Hauntruss raised her black inked tip fingers and summoned her saber whip to her hand. ZAP. CRACK. HISS. The crimson blade curled and smacked the ground in defiance of those who came to oppose its wielder. Hauntruss outwardly assumed a battle stance, while inside she began to summon the dark side needed to unleash the tomes of spells and sith magic her mind catalogued.

Blaster fire began to rain down and Hauntruss whipped her saber about deflecting rounds into the on coming horde. Thrusting her finger out at the horde. "KILL THEM ALL!" she growled with a her teeth clenched, squeezing out the words in a hiss. At the command of their master the Inquisition SIth Troopers clad in black charge forward and moved in for a close blaster fight.

Hauntruss herself led her forces in a head on charge with the Herglic, spinning and flinging her saber whip in crimson strikes of death and carnage.

The dark side began to consume the battlefield as Hauntruss spread her influence over her own and the enemy's troops. Putrid and oppressive, even non-sensitive would feel the weight of her appearance.

Yes. Yes. This was it. This was the blood she needed. This would suffice.


[OOC: Im on a business trip for the next 3 days, my replying may be limited. Sorry for the rushed post. Wrote this on a shaky train ride >_<]

 

[Julian Valentine]

In a blur of movement, Hauntruss had flung herself out of the way of the slug, and into the courtyard. Ghorua took the lead and unloaded a hellish torrent at her. Valentine moved up behind him, using his large stature and thick armored plating as a shield. He fumbled with his bandoleer and ripped free one of his EMP grenades. He peered over the Herglics shoulder and watched the Sith Lord elegantly disable each blaster bolt as though she were playing with a child.

"Keep it up!" he roared to Ghorua, his armored nutrient pack would make certain they were not affected by the affects of Hauntruss' dark side abilities. Furthermore, as they were inching closer, it would prevent herself from using the Force. It was what he was anticipating upon.

He primed the grenade, it began to beep. The noise was picking up pace, faster and faster. He broke from the cover of the Herglic, lobbing the grenade with an underarm throw at Hauntruss. With the nutrient pack intended to disarm her ability in the Force, the EMP was there to disarm her lightwhip.

Moving from the Herglic exposed him to a torrent of blaster fire, his twin blasters burst to life as each bolt was returned in full. One of his targets were hit, and the Sith trooper was sent hurtling through the air. Customized by Browncoat, the JV-1's were a devastating set of heavy blasters.

He felt his shoulder try and spin him around, he looked down and the leather was scorched from a close call with fate. He looked to who had fired, and returned. Then his eyes were on Hauntruss again, his fingers snapping against the triggers, sending a volley of green plasma bolts towards her. The vents were fuming, the blasters were near over-heating.


| [member="Ghorua the Fish"] | [member="Darth Hauntruss"] |

 

[Isamu Baelor]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyjdr2dVyqA[/media]​

Inside The Palace:

Besieged by traitors, the Dark Lord had found himself surrounded. Most of his inner-circle had betrayed him, or disappeared. His last surviving Hand, Isamu Baelor, had been beckoned to the Dark Lord’s chambers. “My Lord.” Isamu spoke, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord’s throne. “Grand General Baelor. Though deaf to the force, you have proven to be one of my most capable, and loyal, subjects.” The Dark Lord said.

“It is for those reasons that I raised you to the station of Hand of The Dark Lord. And it is for those reasons that I expect you to continue to prove your loyalty.” Isamu could feel the judgemental gaze of the Dark Lord. The paranoia, of which had taken root and festered. The Dark Lord was losing his mind, and it terrified Isamu. “You will march on these traitors, these Sith that would spurn their Lord, and vanquish them.”

“By your command, my Lord.” The Grand General rose to his feet, and turned from the Dark Lord. “And General.” The words tugged at Isamu, and brought him to a halt. He turned his head in acknowledgement. “Do not disappoint me.” The Dark Lord said. “Or there will be dire consequences, if you do.” The ordinarily stoic General turned, a grimace having formed on his scarred face. “My Lord.”

The large doors opened, and Isamu stepped out into a group of waiting Sith. Peculiarly, the Hand of The Dark Lord was not garbed in his usual armor. Rather, he was outfitted with a prototype power-armor, and sword. Weapons designed to fight force-users. To kill force-users. It appeared that Isamu interrupted a conversation, but mattered little. “The Dark Lord has instructed us to kill the traitors.” He announced to the others. “Who of you are with me?”

Space:

The Hand of The Dark Lord had deployed his personal fleet in space above the besieged palace. The fleet, consisting of a number of Wyyrlock-class Star Destroyers and various support ships, took up defensive positions surrounding the Grand General’s experimental Star Destroyer: The War Hammer.

Built to rapidly deploy an invasion force, the War Hammer was a large ship equipped with drop-pod capabilities. From its underside, the ship birthed a never-ending stream of drop-pods. The forces being dropped planet-side where not typical Sith, but rather the personal forces of Isamu Baelor. They were veterans of Contruum, and Balmorra. They were the soldiers that carved the Republic in two. They were elites.

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="The Handmaiden"] | [member="Darth Acarus"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Allies: [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Darth Hauntruss"] | [member="Soeht"]

Braxus grinned as the shuttle doors swung open and the foolish mercenary tried to end a god with the pull of a trigger, and was terrified when with a mere twitch the missile not only stopped in mid flight, but turned around and flew straight back at the little brigade and in an inferno of fire, melted durasteel and set body parts flying through the air. Braxus in haled deeply "Master, I can smell the fear in the air...this foolish upstart hires common mercenaries to face trained soldiers." He said as a small group of mercenaries rounded the corner, nudging each other as they noticed the small group that had landed.

A maddening full faced grin formed on his helmeted face as the HUD of his armor targeted them, outlining them in a red color. "I've learned much from you ever since the days of Thule, and even more since you bequeathed to me your repository of knowledge, master. Let me show you." Braxus said as he walked towards the group of six soldiers and cracked his neck, grabbing the first lightsaber off of his belt and nonchalantly ignited the blade.

A tall surly Zabrak pointed at the man with his blaster "There's one of our targets, blast em!" The man said he let loose with the small cannon gripped in his hands. Although he could have been cocky, Braxus wasn't worried at all about these vagrants, [member="Darth Vornskr"] in all of his glory constantly told him in training "If your opponent means nothing to you, there is no grievance he brought against you kill him without hesitation." So the Ancient Hunter entered into a Soresu Defensive stance and deflected the torrent of fire that the man brought at him. He could have killed him with the first bolt but he had something special in store for him. Just as a brief delay in the mans fire came, his weapon must have jammed up, Braxus acted.

The God-King's Champion thrusted his right hand forward and with a feral growl, a surge of dark side energy rushed through his body and exploded off of his hand. A torrent of bright crimson lightning blasted outward and enveloped the man, its bright glow enveloping the entire area around the small group in a red light. The man's comrades looked on with shock as the man screamed and howled in pain. He tossed his blaster to the earth as the lightning began to char his skin, flailing about in a mixture of disorientation and muscle spasms. The man's voice grew higher and he screamed louder much to the enjoyment of Braxus as his flesh darkened and smoked.

As the man dropped down to his knees in his screams, a sick popping sound rang out as his arms spasmed and broke, his very flesh bubbling while the eyeballs popped out of their sockets and drooped down near his nose, and the screaming stopped with the man slumping to the ground. But even as he fell Braxus was already on the move at the group of now five trying to retreat. The closest man Braxus delivered a swift slash on his back before performing a whirling slash that took his head off at the shoulders, a proud torgutan male of the group tried drawing a vibroblade, but he didn't expect a smoldering palm to smash the man's head, the force of the blow coupled with the flame burned through the torgutans skull. Convection was one of the older powers he learned in the past few months.

In a flash Braxus tossed his lightsaber at the fourth man, a rodian and struck him in the back, the green skinned creature dropping to his knees. While the acolyte approached the man, he thrusted his hand out at the fifth man, a human crouched in the corner begging for his life. Braxus once more inhaled, and then exhaled as a black smog burst into reality from his hand and surrounded the poor helpless mercenary. Drain Life was a necessary power that he'd seen his master use, and heard from his lectures. The gatekeeper stressed that the dark side did not heal like the light could, but it did have the capacity to heal and provide energy to an individual at the cost of the life of others. The smog enveloped the man and forced its way through his ears, nose, and mouth cutting off his screams sharply. The mans flesh paled and in mere seconds he turned from a fully healthy human male, to looking like a dead cadaver with flesh stretching across revealing bone beneath.

Braxus turned and clipped the lightsaber back to his hip as he walked towards his group of allies, and just then red dots began to appear on his HUD's minimap, scanners coupled with many maps of Coruscant's surface and layout let him see buildings, streets, and red dots nearby meant enemies. "There are many more skulking around like cockroaches, my friends, keep your eyes open."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Ophidia saw [member="The Handmaiden"] remove her hands from the large doors of the Dark Lord's chamber. Staying in the shadows, engulfed in nothingness, she watched the conversation going on. She did not know if the persons congregating around the chamber were friends or foes. Were they gathering to defend, or did they want to penetrate the doors and confront the Dark Lord himself? She could not tell with a glance, so she sharpened her senses and focused.

"-turn against the Dark Lord, so why not you?"

The Rattataki placed a hand on one of her lightsabre hilts. She did not blink; but peered into the gathering. She could identify a Voice, [member="Darth Carach"], and recognised [member="Darth Adekos"] from reports on the dominion of Onderon and attack on the royal palace. Three were unknown to her, and her question of their loyalty was still unanswered.

Only seconds passed before the doors opened and out strode [member="Isamu Baelor"], Grand General and Hand. She had never before seen him in armour, nor had she ever before seen the armour he was wearing. She would wager it was a prototype to compensate for his lack of affinity with the Force. It would seem she did not need to reveal herself to question loyalties, as Baelor did it for her. She watched cautiously; her body tensed as she prepared to pounce in defence of the Hand should one or more turn out to be traitors.

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

Location: Aboard the Paladin
Allies: [member="Darth Mephirium"], Rebel Forces
Enemies: Loyalist Sith


The dropships from the Paladin finally touched down, making a location behind the Saeva Inc mercenaries their landing zone. Out of the ships poured several hundred soldiers, each with the familiar and standard armor of the One Sith stormtrooper. However, approximately half of the arriving soldiers seemed to have been given some form of combat stimulant as was evident by their impressive size, and maneuverability. These particular soldiers rushed forward into the jaws of death, opening fire on hostile loyalist forces and intermingling in location with the rebel forces, thus identifying themselves by action even if word had not reached the ground forces. However, despite the physical advantages from the supersoldiers, they also suffered drawbacks and would be often stunned by any particularly heavy noises or flashing lights. Still, they helped to add to the push with whatever little they could offer.

Meanwhile, above the planet forces gathered for what seemed to be a grand space battle. Abelain was growing fearful that perhaps the rebel forces which he had allied himself with would not stand the test of strength that was coming, though he purged such negative thoughts from his mind. The Arue'tii had never commanded the vessel during a battle, and this would be his first experience with the task. Thankfully, there were many experienced officers aboard the ship, such as the loyal Captain who would ensure that the Paladin performed to it's maximum ability.

The Vanguard-class ship turned, opening up with a frontal assault on the nearest Imperial vessels, utilizing it's heavy long-range turbolasers to wear down the shields before the ships had established maximally efficient range for the remaining weaponry. Firing alongside the turbolasers were five heavy and equally long-range mass drivers. All of these guns focused fire on a Wyyrlock Star Destroyer, and though it was obvious that these alone would not damage the vessel, they would certainly help in fighting the larger ship once it came into range of the remaining guns.

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Seraphina wielded no weapon of any kind; Wore no armor. A soft black robe with modest gold patterns along the arms covered her bright pink form. There was a soft grace in her step as she wandered down the ramp, trailing behind the others. A small semblance of fear tickled the back of her mind as to what may very well occur once boots touched ground here on Coruscant. Almost immediately a paltry attempt to stop her master and his apprentice was made. Pausing, she observed the situation. Forest green eyes peering into the oncoming entourage of soldiers while one made the brazen attempt at releasing a rather crude explosive device towards [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Braxus Zambrano"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], and herself. The flash of the rocket's ignition, and the trail left in its' wake made the Twi'lek wince for a moment, raising her hand to shield her face from the sudden brightness. The whistle of the rocket made an abrupt stop however, as Kaine had extended his arm forth to wrap telekinetic hands around the ordnance. The female lowered her own arm to bear witness to the fireworks that were about to be on display. And with a twist of his hand, and a flick of his fingers, around the rocket went, back to its' host in a fiery explosion. All who had opposed their initial landing had been eliminated within mere seconds.

A smile smile crept across Sera's face, hearing their pathetic screams and their final breaths escape their burning lungs. It seemed like as quickly as it had ended another group sought to cash in the momentary opportunity, though Braxus had already begun to see to their fall as well. An equal display of ruthless power was invoked, essentially burning one of the men alive within his own skin before eradicating the remainder of the seemingly useless force sent to apprehend or kill the small party that had arrived with Kaine.

The pink woman remained quiet until the fighting adjourned, her hands tucked within the sleeves of her robe, her face and head obscured behind the darkness of the fabric. When the time was right, and the need was there, the Twi'lek would see to her master's will. Should he have use of his pet, she would ensure that he was not disappointed. A weapon for the one holding the leash is what she had become. And used she was eager to be.

 

[Iroatas]

The Dark Temple
Dark Lord's Chamber Entrance

Acarus's steps brought him to the large double doors that sealed the Dark Lord in his room. Down the hallway, he saw a group of other people already there. There was @Darth Acarus, [member="The Handmaiden"], [member="Darth Adekos"], and [member="Drana'stair'eno"]. He knew none of them, and he assumed that none knew who he was.

Exhaling a breath of air, the charcoal pigmented Pureblood's left hand clenched at the hydrastaff in his hands. He heard the words of Astaire, but didn't bother in acknowledging him. Turning his head to the rest, his crimson gaze, spattered with flecks of the corrupted yellow splashes that tends to plague those immersed in the Dark Side, he looked at the ragtag group of defenders.

Turning his head to the Handmaiden as she took her hand off of the door, he found the nearest wall and leaned on it.

"Our reasons don't matter." He felt the floor rumble from the turbolaser fire on the courtyard, but he didn't bother moving from the wall. No one was close to their position yet. "At least, not until a host of traitors and impatient child-like Sith Lords come down that hallway." Malphas's gravelly voice spoke the words, every single word being crunched out as he savoured what moisture was left in his mouth.

"Does Tsavong Kraal still live?"

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Wow, this Sith can really move.

Ghorua trudged forward determined, and kept the Spinster trained on the woman, even as he was shot at by various troopers. No matter how many blaster bolts were thrown her way, the Sith seemed to whip them away, as if they were nothing. The Hunter grit his teeth as a couple of blasts struck his shoulder-plate, but kept wallowing forward with no major damage. Ghorua would almost be afraid, if not for Julian's power pack. The large Herglic would most likely be more than a match for the woman if her Force-mumbo-jumbo was disabled. Then Valentine ran out from behind him.

What is he thinking... Ghorua sprinted forward, a little behind Julian, and kept shooting at Darth Hautruss. Eventually, the ysalamir's range would include the woman, and when that happened, it would become marginally tougher for her to deflect a wall of blaster bolts. Then he saw a bright glint in Julian's hand, enhanced by the Herglic's adrenaline, and things clicked into place. He yelled, trying to keep the Darth's attention as Julian rushed forward. "I'm gonna gut you, girl," he said, trying to sound big and dumb. The less she knew of his intellect, and the angrier she was, the easier it would be to actually gut her. As the grenade flew from Julian's hands, Ghorua paused his advance enough so that his equipment was in no danger of being hit, and quickly shot down a few troopers as he waited. "Hauum! Show me a real fight, woman." The Herglic laughed to himself. Playing dumb was one of Ghorua's biggest strengths. That, and his strength. He waited a few meters away, waiting to show off both of his skills.

-[member="Julian Valentine"]-[member="Darth Hauntruss"]-

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Something was wrong. Coruscant itself shook and cried out as new events began to take place. Visiting the Vong that still remained on Coruscant Javiks sensory sight same alive with all the motion that followed. his heightened sense of smell could reconize that destruction had come. Sounds of blasters, cries of war and bombs filled the very air he breathed. This attack was too sudden to be the republic or any other force. No this was a power grab.

Javiks massive body shifted as he glanced at the few Yuuzhan Vong workers, their whispers of deceit found home in Javiks mind. The Vong worshiped the Darklord but for what reason? This even Javik could not answer. His thoughts shifted as he raised his head to the palace.

<< " Insignificant and petty." >> He thought to himself. He had many questions but for now only one mattered.

<< " I will observe what I can for histories sake. But the question still remains. Will the Vong side with this new force? And do they have the Vongs best interest." >> Slowly Javik lumbered to the action more curious than ever.

 

[Bethany Haverford]

“Second step clear but for stragglers,” someone reported.

“All Graug and soldiers, move up carefully and clear out the remaining trash. Maintain cover but proceed up the third step. Soldiers in the back lay covering fire,” Bethany advised. She held back, knowing that, as used to being on the front lines as she was, she couldn't do so this time, not with the whole battalion under her command.

A wash of Force power left her briefly struggling for breath until she adjusted. Ahead of her, the loyalist Sith was battling with what looked to be two of the mercenaries Mephirium had brought in. Looking for the man in question, she confirmed his location and status, almost negligently taking out a loyalist with two shots before a warning came up on her HUD. Almost against her will, her eyes drifted up to the battle raging beyond the planet’s atmosphere even as she began issuing orders as she began running backward, still laying covering fire.

“FALL BACK. FALL BACK.” Her soldiers staggered to a halt and most moved to obey without question. She watched grimly, covering their retreat with the others who had held back. Bad timing. “ALL FORCES BACK FROM THE THIRD--”

Her words were cut off by the roar of Foyle’s directed attack and she staggered backward behind full cover. A cacophony of sound, light and heat washed over the forces assembled before the palace, friendly and hostile alike. Bethany shielded herself with her arms-- a brief moment of instinctive weakness-- and screamed as shrapnel pierced her calf. The armor and her cover had protected her for the most part. She ripped out the metal and threw it aside before aiming a headshot at a rising, injured loyalist. Her eyes scoured the area for the damage-- well, the human damage as the architectural damage was incalculable.

The loyalists had caught the brunt of it, but she knew that Saeva had forces near the palace; she could only hope that the barrage had decimated the forces of the Sith waiting for them at the top and left as many of their allies intact as possible. There was really no way either side could have escaped with no damage.

“Stay in cover!” she shouted into her helmet, firing at what loyalists remained standing or were trying to rise from the ground following the attack. She looked out at the way ahead of them: the smoke from WP obscured her vision, but that meant it obscured the enemy’s vision as well.

She activated her connection to the fleet. “Foyle, Haverford. Thanks for the assist.”

There were bodies out there that belonged to them, bodies she would mourn privately-- later. Bethany issued a few clear, firm directions and resumed the assault. The attack had been what they needed: the smokescreen and disorientation of their enemies made the third step child’s play. They would be on the mercenaries and Sith before they knew it.

“Take cover when you can find it and clear the doors!” She ordered as she fell back behind cover and took stock, firing only when she had clear shots. “Graug to the front--” most were anyway but it bore repeating for those who had gotten sidetracked gleefully rending injured loyalists, “-- and defend the doors. No order or picked targets, boys. Just get rid of them.” She felt a fleeting moment of adrenaline-induced savage pleasure as she ended a suffering loyalists life with a close range shot to the face. Messy, but satisfying.

As the smoke began to clear, she took a hard look at [member="Darth Hauntruss"] and the mercenaries. One eye remained on them while she signaled to the Captain and his team to move with her as they made their own way to the final level of the palace, giving the small fight a wide berth.

[member="Rigor"], [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"], [member="Laguz Vald"], [member="Aelius Varangian"], [member="Darth Kentarch"], [member="Gulliver Foyle"], [member="Abelain Narv'uk"], [member="Darth Mephirium"], [member="First Daughter"], [member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Darth Vaildra]

https://youtu.be/YzbJMCSfcPY​

​

The Sith Lord Sebastian, the man, the mortal, the harbinger of evil, the divider, the exile; all names accredited to him. He had made a name for himself among the and he knew it was not a good name. To his right stood his new apprentice, [member="Morgana Belcourt"]. Besides her, he stood alone, something that did not bother him, but it proved impossible to proceed with plans and not have a following. His ship stood on the outskirts of the battle raging before him. The battle he had been envisioning for a decade, maybe longer was unfolding before him, but this battle was not his own, it was the work of [member="Darth Mephirium"] and his armies that raged to take back the legacy, the legacy of the One Sith.

This was indeed not his battle as his battle would be something much greater, the One Sith would no longer stand if this was his war. The One Sith was what rose from the ashes of the Sith Empire, but it had never become a replacement or worthy of the title. They wished to stop infighting, Sith against Sith, peace is a lie and to try to bring it in the Sith was a disgrace. Before him was the true Sith, fighting among each other, but this, this would only put another weak Sith at the helm who would propose more ways to bring order to the Galaxy.

Order was also a lie!

Sebastian was not a Dark Lord in the making regardless of what people like @Lord Mythos foolishly claimed. Sebastian was merely a servant of war, a servant of the Dark Side and it was time the Dark Side took it's seat on the throne again, but who that was provided the deepest question, would this battle reveal them? Hard to say, but what did stand was what Sebastian would do.

Lord Sebastian, a name given to him by the Dark Lord, first thing was first he would cast off this name and take his name for himself. He was not Hakora, He was not Lord Sebastian, from this day forth he was Darth Vaildra.

He stood at the helm of his Sith Interceptor with his Apprentice at tow looking over the battle at hand, "Apprentice, what do you see?"

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location:
The Dark Lord's Palace
Allies: [member="Rigor"] | [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]
Enemies: [member="Braxus Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

"Ohh haa," growled the Wookiee.

Long strides carried him swiftly across the palace grounds and he took the stairs up to the wall in bounds of four at a time. When he reached the top he narrowed his one eye and glared at a small group approaching the main steps into the palace. Grozkalla hefted his Kashyyyk long gun and took a knee on the cool, stone surface of the wall. The barrel of his gun stuck out slightly from the parapet, aimed at the distant party.

Bolts of red lightning and other foul sorcery leapt from them, cutting down mercenaries and others loyal to Mephirium's cause. Grozkalla cared little for their deaths. Saving those lives would not bring his wife back, nor free his cubs from slavery. Only the blood of Zambranos would slake his thirst. So he waited impatiently for the moment when he could strike. In those moments he imagined seizing the face of one of that putrid brood and smashing it again and again into the cobblestones until the skull shattered and brain matter clung to his claws.

The scene elicited a feral grin, more fang than lip.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Location: Dark Temple Outer Areas

Blades crashed together as Dark Honor Guard and Darth Kentarch clashed. Under the Burning sky their sabers exchanged a cascade of blows. Kentarch cut in deep with an eviscerating blow, however the Honor Guard matched Kentarch's blow with a quick sweeping block. "Even if you live traitor, you will be hunted to the ends of the known galaxy. Forever an enemy of the One Sith." The Dark Honor Guard shouted. After another flurry of blows the two exchanged. "I'd rather die on my feet here, then live on my knees." Kentarch shouted back in defiance over the thundering sound of battle. There was a break in Kentarch's force defense and the Honor Guard sent the Sith flying with a telekinetic force push. Kentarch crashed through a statue of some ancient Sith and landed on his back, the second time his opponent exploited such a weakness. Before he could get to his feet the Honor Guard came jumping towards him, saber poised in for executioner's strike. Kentarch rolled out of the way in the nick of time, then threw his own saber at guard. The Dark Honor guard jumped, his body just narrowly escaping the thrown blade as it passed under him and drifted out wide. Kentarch curled his right hand into a fist and pulled back with the force. "You missed!" The Honor Guard raised his blade to strike the unarmed Kentarch. Just before he could swing the Dark Honor Gaurd stopped to the sound of a lightsaber going through flesh. Kentarch had tugged lightsaber back in a reverse position, the spinning blade pinwheeled in a parallel fashion straight through the guards chest, slicing him clean in half.

Lungs burning, chest heaving from the bout, Kentarch got to his feet. Reaching up he touched the earpiece to activate his communicator. "I need a situation report. Now." He spoke to a secure line to the bridge of the Blood Dusk. "Outer areas of the Dark Temple are clearing out so far sir, the battle around the Dark Lord's Palace is intensifying." the commander of the capital ship replied. "Our orders are to hold the line here, at the temple, and tie up all forces here and in the valley." Kentarch stated harshly. "Yes my lord, but we are greatly outnumbered and if-" The command was cutt off by the Sith. "We knew the risk when we signed up!" Kentarch interrupted.

Gazing out across the sky scarred by the brimstone light of battle across the horizon, Kentarch shifted his gaze to the temple. The great structure seemed illuminate by the bale-fires that reached high into the atmosphere billowing large plumes of black smoke. He tried to catch his breath, but the are ranked of burnt flesh and ozone, and each gasp tasted like burning sulfur. There would be no reprieve here, in even this calm moment the distant sounds of battle could heard, forcing his instincts to keep himself on guard. "Outer areas secure sir! We still have some light skirmishes going on around our perimeter. Should we move into the temple?" The comm broke his trail of thought. Kentarch chose not to answer for a moment, contemplating on the consequences of his actions. "No reinforcements are likely on their way, anticipate a counter-attack." He stated. The mutated soldiers sent by his allies had managed to work their way to the main entrance of the temple, inside the defenders were desperately trying to keep them out. That and it would given his men a momentary break. Right now Kentarch knew this battle had only just begun, and they would be seeing a lot of company, a lot of unfriendly company.


[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

This is the face of war. It did not shy from revealing itself so blatantly, and it had become the mask of soldiers, generals, and conquerors. To embrace it was to become a warrior, to accept that without war the galaxy could never truly evolve... Yet this was not a war of honour, nor necessity. It's a war of arrogance, resentment, and greed. Traitors who've had enough of their Dark Lord's commands, and who'd rather see themselves sitting on the throne. Catalys cared not for their frivolous politics, nor their short-sighted plans.

He did not fight because he was loyal, he did not obey because he believed in this cause. He fought for the Dark Lord because he's a survivor. "Launch a forward assault, I want screen ships at the center, maneuver cruisers and destroyers around the flanks." Quickly, the forces loyal to Catalys had begun taking formation. A small fraction of the former Primeval fleet had gone forward, whilst the bulk of his forces sat back in reserve. Awaiting ambush, and enemy reinforcements.

Escaping the hangar bays were swarms of starfighters, and as a testament to the Dark Lord's fury, he had deployed the new Allegiant-class Starfighters. Although not the swiftest, these multi-role fighters are very capable, and have the ability to confuse enemy sensors and targeting computers.

Continuing their assault, the fleet opened fire, the agent's flagship drifted towards the left flank as smaller, quicker vessels charged ahead. Enemy firepower was quick to respond, destroying two corvettes and crippling a frigate immediately in the process. The starfighters dived below the capital ships during the exchange, and aimed to flank the ventral sides of the enemy fleet, coming up and strategically striking enemy batteries with their proton torpedoes.

[member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Captain Love]

The Dark Temple:

A sullen hush fell over the forces gathered around the Temple as they awaited a counter attack, broken only by the erratic discharge of blaster and artillery. Large craters littered the area, permacrete and soil excavated in from the meteoric impact of the enormous shells and bolts. Broken corpses ringed these holes in the ground, haloes shed by fallen angels,

Amid the scattered dying wandered a tiny figure. He was short, barely reaching waist height on a human man. Brown fur, though patchy in places, marked him as an Ewok. He wore an array of bone talismans around the neck, but such might be expected from a shaman of Endor. It was the gauntlets on each hand that proved strange, along with the dark links of chain wrapped around his shoulder like a bandolier. Surely such a savage - locked in the stone age - did not know what what technological prowess he stood amid, or even what he wore.

Indeed, he seemed quite insane, talking to himself in some foreign dialect.

But they do not see the spirits as I do, thought Warok, They do not hear the whispers of the dead. But I do. And the dead and I are weary of waiting. When the sickened ewe stumbles in the forest, then do the bellies of wolves growl. Deny me not my nature, as the fools of my tribe did. Speak to me your wishes, let me grant you life again, oh vengeful spirits. Your work here is not yet done.

The Ewok stretched out his paws to either side and began to chant. In the all-muffling cascade of artillery claps, only snippets could be heard. And of those only a pair of words might seem legible.

"Tsaiwinnoka Hoyakut."

And all around him, the dead shuddered to life. Some were missing arms, others legs, while still others seemed heedless of gaping wounds, or bones jutting from their flesh. A broken, sickening host of the fallen from both sides, united at last in undeath. They shambled, crawled and stuttered their way behind Warok as he led them toward the Temple.

Their allegiance, or rather that of their summoner, remained unclear, for they did not break out into a slavering run toward Kentarch's forces. Nor did they suddenly fall upon Mephirium's host. They seemed quite intent on doing nothing at all except following the Ewok Sith.

For now...

[member="Darth Kentarch"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"] | [member="Darth Ferus"]