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

[Vilaz Munin]

Allies: [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"], [member="Braxus Zambrano"], [member="Darth Vornskr"]
Enemies: [member="Rigor"] and Compnay
Objective: Don't get in my way

The scenery of battle wasn't unlike any of the ones he had ever been in during his career as mercenary and as a Mandalorian Warrior. Bodies were spread everywhere, blood stained the the floors, flames expanding to all angles, screams of dying or injured soldiers filled the air, and soldiers slaying each other. The same old, same old things he has witnessed for from his first taste of warfare. As he followed Kaine unto the ramp of the shuttle they were immediately greeted by a rocket launched at them from a mercenary whose affiliation was unknown to him or his fellow associates. He didn't gave the group of mercenaries the pleasure of seeing him flinch with fear, knowing that it was the end for him. He knew it wasn't the end for him, for he's faced worse than a rocket coming straight towards him. Like a proud colossus he stood still and saw the rocket, all of a sudden, stop. He wasn't amazed to see that Darth Vornskr used the mystical powers of the Force to decelerate the rocket at a halt and sent it back to its origins which left the band of mercenaries dead with their corpses flying in different vectors.

With the small, insignificant threat neutralized Vilaz and his colleagues continued their advance to the palace of the Dark Lord of the Sith. No one had become an obstruction for the group during their voyage to the palace, even though there many IFF tags flooding his HUD on the visor of his buy'ce. No need to waste precious ammunition on hostiles that weren't paying attention to him or to any of the three companions that he was accompanying with. While he was disappointed that there was no one to slay, he had to think ahead and conserve his energy for the fight against the Dark Lord.

 

[Placeholder 04]

(My fleeting will be taken over by [member="Aelius Varangian"] as I have no idea what I am doing with it.)

The artillery strike had been expected, though a bit more than Mephirium had asked for. That much was fine really. The Dark Lord's palace was effectively ravaged, though it still stood. The loyalist forces protecting the courtyard were all but destroyed thanks to the effectiveness of [member="Gulliver Foyle"] and his artillery teams. Perhaps they would keep the man signed on once this mess was through.

Content to let [member="Ghorua the Fish"] and [member="Julian Valentine"] deal with [member="Darth Hauntruss"] and her ilk, Mephirium moved forward. The token loyalist force that remained was quickly overtaken by the few surviving Graug berserkers. Those farthest away were cooked within their armor by the white phosphorous. It was gruesome work, but it got the job done all the same. When he passed those particular unfortunate souls he made sure to run them through with his blade.

One could not say that Darth Mephirium was without mercy.

"Captain Varangian, assemble a demolitions team and blast through those palace doors. I will not allow the Dark Lord anymore time to prepare," he paused for a moment, "And keep your head down. It wouldn't do for you to die now. It'd sour the mood." A hint of humor laced his words, though the concern was all too real.

The order given, he turned to [member="Varus Shatterstar"]. It was by some strange twist of fate that the Sith Lord had managed to convince the Jedi Master that this was the right course of action. It had taken some choice words from Mephirium, but in the end the Jedi had agreed to support him. It was the first step down a new path, a path Mephirium intended to shove Varus down if need be.

Nevertheless, Mephirium would remember those who fought by his side today in the future.

"Aye, it would. It would seem my credits were well spent," he motioned out toward the shattered courtyard, "We've broken the siege in a single strike. it makes the initial assault almost seem insignificant." He chuckled. "We're going to breach the doors. There will be loyalists on the other side. I expect you to help my men mop them up. The sooner they've all been wiped out, the sooner we can establish some sense of order."

It was then that the soldiers of [member="Isamu Baelor"] began to descend. The 501st was quickly claiming the entirety of the courtyard, but that did not stop Baelor's men from landing in unoccupied spaces. Once again the usurper force was besieged by loyalists, and once again Mephirium drew his blade. There were not enough men to break the defensive positions of the 501st and its Graug berserkers, but there were enough to draw its attentions away from raiding the palace for the moment.

Mephirium marched up to one of these particular groups. The soldiers had slaughtered a dozen 501st troopers and their four Graug supporters. It would have been a bloody grudge match if the soldiers had continued slugging it out. As it was, Mephirium did not intend to let these men draw another breath.

His blade was a blur of blue as it batted away blaster bolts harmlessly to the side. The soldiers could have converged their fire and quite likely broken his defense had it not been for the usurper soldiers firing back at them. Taking advantage of the distraction, Mephirium marched right into their formation and impaled the closest man. The others turned toward him, but he was already on the move. By the time the second man raised his weapon to fire, Mephirium had cleaved it in two and removed his head from his shoulders. The third was destroyed by a bout of crimson lightning of the same ilk that [member="Darth Vornskr"] was throwing around. The fourth actually managed to fire his weapon, and those bolts returned to him a moment later. The fifth had scittered off to find a better firing position. Mephirium had drew invisible tendrils around his neck and snapped his neck.

The momentary victory was satisfying, but groups like this were landing all over Coruscant. In areas like the temple, enemy reinforcements would prove devastating. Areas that had been hard-fought victories across the planet were now besieged by a force of experienced, fed, and well rested soldiers. It wouldn't be enough to shake them off Coruscant alone, but with the loyalist forces who were already present, they might actually pose a threat.

"Colonel," Mephirium quipped into his comm, "The loyalists have reinforcements. Skilled ones at that. Secure the courtyard and set up a defensive perimeter." He took a moment to reach out to her within the force. Bethany had no connection to the ethereal realm, but she would feel it all the same. It was a minuet little gesture, yet it meant a great deal that he would take the time to reach out to her in the middle of a battle.

Satisfied that the Colonel was not dead yet, Mephirium made his way back up toward the front. His soldiers were met with marginal resistance, enough to make him move behind a pillar to regain his bearings for a moment. From there, he moved on toward the palace's doors. It would be up to the fighting men to tear the doors open. Mephirium didn't know the first thing about timed explosives.

The message came through just as he arrived at the entrance. Vornskr had made himself present.

Come to try at the throne then, Kaine?

It was difficult not to let his displeasure show. The assault had been a bloody one, but it was going well enough. Vornskr was another factor - a third party thrown into the mix. One of the riflemen had reported seeing the mercenaries of Saeva heading his way. Hopefully that would solve the issue.

And yet...

Mephirium thought it over for a moment. There was another possibility, one that would suit the both of them. He mulled it over for a moment, turned his attentions toward the war-torn skies, and sighed. If Darth Vornskr survived his encounter with Saeva, Mephirium would make his offer known. If not, then the issue was off the table all together. They would simply move forward as planned.

At the same time usurper reinforcements from [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] began to descend from the Paladin's shuttles. The few hundred more than served their purpose in helping secure a defensive line, and a large number of them fanned out into the buildings beyond to sweep for loyalist stragglers. Mephirium had just barely caught one of the augmented soldiers in action; the behemoth of a man had shrugged off a loyalist's blaster fire and quite literally snapped him in half. Impressive.

Mephirium identified one of the sergeants by his orange pauldron and pulled him aside.

"Find me a comms specialist. I need to speak with Mister Foyle."

The man nodded and scurried off to complete his task.

[member="Bethany Haverford"], [member="Darth Acarus"], [member="Darth Adekos"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Rigor"], [member="Darth Ophidia"],

 

[Darth Vidar]

A rumbling came from deep within the palace. The stirring of a shattered mind. Darth Vidar had been many things in his life. Exotic Weapons Master. Jedi Councilman. Sith Lord. His resurrection by Darth Mierin had been a curse, fracturing his sanity and trapping the Nautolan in the body of a Sith Pureblood. What was once a Jedi Master was no more. The name Hasjo Hallu had gone down in the archives having been bestowed the title of Exotic Weapons Master, a title given to so few in all the history of the Order. What was left of him would be forgotten for all times.

A cloth unfurled across the marble floor. A cloaked creature knelt over an array of hilts and weapons, studying them intently. Long fingers stroked the frills around his lips. One by one he attached each weapon to his belt, and slung the staff over his back. He rose from the palace floor and strode towards the foyer, powerful hands separated the doors and sunlight spilled across his face. His brow furrowed, yellowed eyes observed the scene before him. The courtyard had become chaos.

Frustration swelled up. Every which way he turned, it was a slaughter. There was no clear winner, but he knew enough. Someone had betrayed the Sith. Brothers and sisters had taken up arms against one another. This could not be so. He began to breathe in, readying himself for his signature Force ability. The air around him began to whine loudly, as though exposed to a vacuum. His chest rose, nostrils flaring, eyes bulging. Then at its peak, silence, and then the world ruptured.

A Force Bellow of impossible might burst free from his lungs, only matched by another supreme student in the art, Hion. The permacrete ground cracked and split, debris exploding upwards into thousands of tiny pieces of lethal shrapnel. The shockwave swept across the courtyard, uncaring for who got caught in the way. Then came an electric growl.

Darth Vidar slid the staff from his back. He gripped each half then twisted and pulled. It split into three parts, connected by a power coupling that could shear off limbs, cook flesh, and even a near miss could give victims severe burns. The staff had tripled in length. He swung the exotic San-Ni Staff, preparing himself. "Come to me, pretenders!" his voice boomed.

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"Acknowledged, my lord," Bethany replied in clipped tones, rising from her place in cover as a feeling like phantom hands ran over her skin, causing her to shiver as she motioned to her 501st guards to follow. She didn't look to Mephirium, but she knew the feeling of the Force. When no ill-effects followed the feeling, she was sure it had to have been him.

She shook off her distraction.

They didn't need the entire courtyard: to spread their forces to all corners would prove a costly measure if more enemy troopers were dropped in between, effectively cutting them off. The artillery placed on the roofs surrounding the area would cover those angles for them. The lynchpin for this maneuver was killing the Dark Lord; if that succeeded, they would only need to hold the enemy off long enough for their secondary fleet to arrive and the message to go out. Who fought for a dead Dark Lord? No one. They would either change sides or begin fighting for themselves, which meant a fractured group.

"I want encampments under cover from mid-courtyard to the doors. Move the field hospital into the safe zone and take up defensive positions. Dig in, gentlemen. Keep the newcomers at a distance." Down on the first step, she already saw people beginning to move the wounded while her soldiers moved around her, building cover where there wasn't any, making use of what was there so that no area would be left uncovered. She, herself, was striding toward the palace, prepared to insert herself among the rear encampments there as her eyes swept up to watch shuttles come in from the Pelican's reinforcements. Those, at least, were theirs. They could defend the buildings, keep the artillery on the roofs from behind sabotaged by anything other than orbital or explosive attacks. Good enough.

A shot narrowly missed her over her shoulder, and she fell into a roll just as a shockwave and a resounding roar burst through the courtyard. She turned to watch shrapnel litter the ground and retreating troops emanating from a beastly Pureblood in the courtyard. More Sith loyalists. Unfortunate. Whoever had shot at Bethany must have been knocked over by their own ally's attack; she had time to take out a few loyalists sprinting across the courtyard without trouble.

"Concentrate fire on the Sith Lord. Orar, Tango, keep clearing out the soldiers hot-dropping in. Ulster, your squad is guard for the field hospital. Keep soldiers off of them until we've dealt with this threat." She clenched her fist around the barrel of her rifle and brought it up to bear on [member="Darth Vidar"], firing bursts as she moved from cover to cover. "Tal'tor," she acknowledged her guard unit, "They'll hold back the Sith. Focus on the soldiers."

"Yes, ma'am." Bethany half-listened as the captain gave orders to his men and she and they moved forward to engage hostile troops, leaving Darth Vidar to the overwhelming number of soldiers now attacking him. Eventually, a lucky bolt would get through. She needed to be close enough to him and to the soldiers to do real damage when needed.

[member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Gulliver Foyle"] [member="Varus Shatterstar"] [member="First Daughter"] [member="Rigor"] [member="Aelius Varangian"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z3mlJAw3AI​

​

They encountered several more mercenaries during their trek across the vast cityscape, mostly straggling pockets of brigands that had not yet formed up with the main assault on the Palace or had been ordered to scout the perimeter of the battlefield for any encroaching Sith or Imperial elements. Indeed, they would find Vornskr quite alarming as he descended from seemingly nowhere, and tore apart their bodies with powers both mystical and terrible. Crimson lightning blossoming from his outstretched fingertips to catch them in the chests, their skeletal systems smoldering brightly against flesh that was momentarily made translucent by the dark power wielded by this butcher before being scattered like leaves in a gale. Many died on impact, a fortuitous fate, as those that managed to cling onto the last semblance of life did so in perpetual agony as their skin flaked off with even the slightest movement, their insides boiled and their eyes melted.

Vornskr left their pained wails behind as he moved with purpose towards the citadel, which lit up with artillery strikes and small arms fire as the insurgents continued to worm their way in deeper. He had only be gone from the physical realm for a couple of months, perhaps almost an entire year, and yet how he lusted for the battlefield ever since. Familiar smells, sights, and sounds assaulted his senses and he shuddered with delight as loyalists and insurgents alike tore themselves to bloody ribbons fighting for what they believed in. Truly Coruscant had transformed into the Dark Side's house of worship as conflict engulfed it utterly, fires raging out of control and bodies festering in the heaps from where they had fallen. He had become so wrapped up in his sensations that he hardly noticed the no man's land that surrounded the palace, an occasional body splayed out and punctured by high intensity blaster wounds that indicated the presence of a sniper.

Boldly, perhaps stupidly, the Sith Lord walked out in plain sight of the citadel's parapets, but whether he was alone or followed by his comrades was wholly up to them. Even though he could not see them he sensed the presence of several individuals up on the walls, although some of them were not organic. His gaze panned up to glare in the general direction of where he suspected they were, and almost comically he gave a casual wave in their direction. But as he did the lower portions of the ramparts and parapets started to crumble and crack, large chunks of duracrete and durasteel being torn free from the supporting sections of the structure, demolishing its integrity. No doubt in a couple of moments it would begin to come crashing down into the no man's land, bringing whoever, or whatever, had been peeking at him from the scope of a rifle tumbling down.

[member="Rigor"]
[member="Braxus Zambrano"]
[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
[member="Grozkalla"]
[member="Vilaz Munin"]
[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Kill them all...

Every last one of them...

Kill them all..

KILL THEM ALL!

[member="Darth Vornskr"] moved across the battlefield part sweeping phantom part juggernaut of war as he butchered anything and everything that dared to step in his path of movement, if it was toting a weapon it died. The sensations of battle and the dark anger and hatred in the air was infectious, Braxus fed off of the growing dark side that grew fat from the bloodthirsty war being fought, feeding it with every life taken, every soul sent wailing from this earth. Alongside his master Braxus butchered all life that dared step in his way, bouts of crimson lightning occasionally bursting from his fingers, making great use of the newfound strength granted to him by the individual known as [member="Soeht"], or Darth Apparatus after they fought together on Lujo.

This was an awakening, the vengeance brought down upon the galaxy in this new age. They thought the God-King of Panatha was gone and that his disciples would fade into memory: They were wrong. The smell of blood and smoke choked the air as the group came closer to the once glorious Imperial Palace, now the center of a planetary war between the loyalists and the insurgents. The infectious powers at work and the atmosphere worked to turn him into something no longer human: A monster. A hunter who sought to snuff out the precious warmth of life in his enemies.

The Hunter stood alongside his master as he stopped boldly on the parapets staring down the barrel of a sniper, a foolish creature that thought he could simply snipe a Sith Lord, a God, he learned the error of his way when the Butcher-King sent them tumbling down with but a casual wave, his iron will crushing the building they stood upon, a laugh escaping from Braxus's lips. If they hid like vermin, they'd be exterminated like vermin.

[member="Rigor"]
[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
[member="Vilaz Munin"]
[member="Grozkalla"]
[member="Darth Vornskr"]
[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Morgana Belcourt]

Morgana grinned, watching the battle ensue was somewhat... Amusing to her. She responded to her teacher, the one who would help her climb through the ranks, in power, even if it meant she had to step on heads to do so. "I see war, conflict, it is... chaotic." Even looking upon the battle now, she couldn't deny herself this thirst she felt for power, for stature. And what she wouldn't give to feel someone's life slip through her fingers as it had just been played in her palms. Morgana knew what she would do in the, near, future. She was just an apprentice now, she was painfully aware of that, but with her share of pain and hatred and mercilessness, she knew she could reach greater heights than ever she had before. Morgana had been weak-minded, and at the point she was at right now, nothing would get in the way of her and glory, not friends, family, or anything.

"I only wait for your word, Master." It was true for over 800 years Morgana had been alone and not in need of a mentor, she was perfectly capable, but after being disgraced by her previous master, [member="Lord Sebastian"] was a much needed teacher. Her hands rested over the curved handles of her lightsabers, whether it was for mental protection or physical she was still unaware. Should any threat come to her or her master she would be ready to draw them, but now it was more of a placebo than anything. Even now as she looked at the Sith fighting, she realized that her own master, when juxtaposed to the others she was not loyal to, was something rather god-like. She practically counted her lucky stars, she couldn't think of someone more capable of training her.

Now she was waiting to get her hands dirty, or she might not even have to considering her gifts, but she enjoyed the idea. She glanced over at her Master and waited for a response eagerly.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Location: Vicinity of the palace
Allies: [member="Rigor"] | [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"] | [member="Grozkalla"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | OS
Objective: Pew pew.

Someone, or, rather, someones were screaming down below, shorn apart by the space magicks so deftly wielded by some Sith Lord. Truly, the position of sniper had never felt quite as close to xir heart as it did in that moment, when the forces on the ground swarmed and ebbed against the tide of the loyalists. Blood was everywhere, fresh and cooling, with its former vessels scattered about with all manners of creative disfigurement inflicted upon them: fire, blasters, bullets, lightning, grenades, and even lightsabers; verily, the battlefield below was a celebration in lethal expression.

Soon, another would be added to the chaotic canvas stretched out in front of xem, this time by xir hands. Well… appendages, at least.

Laguz had made xir way from xir landing zone to a long-evacuated skyscraper towering perhaps a click or two away from the spacious courtyard of the palace, skipping nearly all the way to the top in order to grab a room with a view. From xir newly acquired vantage point, the mercenary had the luxury of picking xir targets as they emerged from the broad, nearly pompous an alley leading up to the square.

Spotting the Sith as he broke off from the main bulk of his army wasn't difficult; in fact, Laguz would sooner liken it to child's play, were xe so inclined. The Force-dead merc, however, was inclined to simply shoot the man before he caused any significant damage to the perimeter established earlier by Saeva, and so the sniper set to do just that.

With negligible wind and a stationary target, the shifter could hardly ask for better conditions, and so xe wasted no time at all; releasing whatever breath remained in xir lungs, Laguz let xir finger depress the trigger with an expert lack of thought, aim never wavering until Tessie had already bucked back against xem, signaling that the pellet had been ejected.

Quiet, subtle, and traveling at a break-neck velocity, the speeding piece of metal was set to burrow directly into the exposed, fleshy cavity under the Sith's raised arm.

 

[Matreya]

Damien, the Ancient Dar'manda, known to some as Lord Daemos, to others as Darth Pikiran, had enough. Having come to Coruscant to manage some studies, he found himself midst the chaos now ensuing all around. First attempting to ignore it all, he had bent closer to page, but soon enough that was proven futile.

Rising to his feet, Damien burst through the door to the library. Ahead of him was the Palace, out front of which he spotted a man he knew from sight though not personal acquaintance: Vornskr. Touching the hilt of the sword Lymmahtun, Damien pondered attacking the man, finally getting the chance to match his power against one so revered.

But no. Something in his stance said that he awaited another.

Then, a grin played against his lips, at the sight of the youth that stood readily at his hip. Like a babe. That must be his apprentice. Damien thought, quite the powerhouse for one so young as well. It would be a pleasure to wound the mans pride. Taking out a student bent a teacher in an odd way, letting them know many things, including their lessons were not good enough, nor were they enough to protect them.

Stepping closer, through crossfire that never quite got close enough to touch him, he stared more at the man. Reaching into the pocket of his Cater Coat, he drew out the Talisman of Concentration, which was shaped as a gaudy ring. Slipping it onto his finger, he dusted the gathering dirt from the leather, while feeling the solidity of the Beskar'gam beneath.

Though he was unsure why, before he came to the planet, the Force had warned him to be ready. So he was armored, bore the Cater, and his Warden Cloak, Tantibus and Lymmahtun, but nothing more. The swords he always bore on his person, the others were the precautions he believed adequate.

At one point, the young Acolyte would hurl a bolt of crimson lightning, only to find the target unharmed - for the electric energy slammed against a Force Barrier then went no further. This was a game for now. One he intended to enjoy.

[member="Braxus Zambrano"] [member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Komo]

Location: Vicinity of Palace
Allies: [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Braxus Zambrano"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

The battle was raging all over Coruscant. Greta was not oblivious to this and she very much wanted to be a part of this. The problem was, on which side? Three sides seemed to have made themselves known, the loyalist forces belonging to the current faceless Dark Lord, a new Sith Lord she had not heard of that went by the name of [member="Darth Mephirium"], or the Butcher King himself, [member="Darth Vornskr"]. She was tiring of the Dark Lord. He wasn't cutting it for her anymore.

The fact that he remained faceless and reclusive for so long was a contributing factor towards her defection. She was tired of serving a faceless power, and have thus decided to support the usurpers, which meant that her choices lay between Mephirium or Vornskr. How ever shall she choose?

Grabbing a flower from a neighbouring flower vase in her luxurious apartment, Greta began her selection process. The Sith began peeling off petal-by-petal repeating the names of her choices as she went along. "Vornskr..Mephirium...Vornskr...Mephirium...Vornskr-.." She went on and on until she reached the last two petals of the above-mentioned flower. "-Mephirium..." As the last petal left the flower, the option that had been picked for her was determined. "Vornskr." Looks like she was siding with the Butcher King after all.

With her allegiance decided, Greta went to prepare, suiting up in the black armourweave bodysuit before fitting over the various components of her obsidian and bronze combat armour.

Darth Vornskr and his forces would no doubt be advancing on the palace, where they would make their stand against Mephirium and the forces still loyal to the Dark Lord. Placing her helmet over her head, allowing her armour system to boot up, the obsidian armoured Sith donned a hooded black robe over her armoured form before she headed towards her soon-to-be allies. As Greta neared Vornskr's forces, and before those around him could do anything to deem her a threat, she voiced out her intentions. "My lord, Darth Vornskr. I have come to pledge my allegiance to you in your bid for the throne of the Dark Lord. Let me aid you in your cause."

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Moff Joffie cursed savagely. First a entire bloody Star Destroyer decimated by an ammo rack detonation in the initial stages of the battle and now.. this. The wizened Moff watched as another Star Destroyer's shields were overwhelmed by a massive strike of 'Hellbore' cannons from the enemy capital ship. Explosions erupted, as crew rooms were consumed in balls of flame. "M-..major.. str-...structure damage...several...front...facing turbolaser b-...batteries destroyed." A shaky voiced responded from the crew of the wounded Star Destroyer. "Ascend above the enemy fleet." A lieutenant officer looked to his senior commander in bewilderment. "To flee, sir?" Moff Joffie paused, and then nodded. "I'd suppose something similar to that, yes." With his word, the mauled capital ship attempted to fire it's engines to quickly position above the enemy fleet.

"What is the status of our remaining vessels?" Joffie asked another subordinate.

"We've lost a corvette, but other than that we're fine, sir. Their Allegiants are attempting to hammer the underbelly of our Star Destroyers, but they aren't known for anything more than moderate firepower. We've lost some power to ventral shields but that's it." With another curse, Joffie quickly regathered his wits and ordered the remainder of his destroyers, corvettes and other smaller ships to screen the ventrals of the Star Destroyers. From hanger-bays, refurbished X-Wings were released. Being a Sith military officer, Joffie knew a particular weakness of the Allegiant-class starfighter -- their forward facing weapons. The X-Wings were ordered to exploit this vulnerability in particular by using their famed maneuverability to stay on their tails and flanks.

Meanwhile, the Star Destroyers were ordered to form into a tight wedge to better provide more efficient overlapping anti-starfighter fire. Idling their engines, they transferred power to their weapons and shields, focusing fire on both the (hopefully) weakly armored but fast moving ships heading directly for them, cross-transmitting weapons calculates to better coordinate firing lanes, but also the Primodial which had just damaged their fellow Star Destroyer.

Simultaneously, a dozen wings of TIE bombers flying in loose formation with a few X-Wings swarmed it onto the Primodial whilst they figured the enemy Starfighters were distracted, specifically targeting their shield generators with their entire Proton Torpedo payloads in hopes of disabling it and thus allowing the Star Destroyer's massive, center based firepower to decimate the enemy capital ship.

(Fleeter post.)

[member="Catalys Maijora"] & [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Cyrus watched with concentrated indifference as the Loyalist and Usurper fleets continued their duel. Whoever was in command of the traitors forces was reasonably skilled, but also clearly wise enough to know he was outmatched. He was playing carefully, buying time and banking the durability of his Star Destroyers to allow time for smaller vessels to recharge and regroup. Standard Imperial (and now One Sith) tactics, but it still took some aptitude for command to pull it off. It was also exploitable, of course. The tighter you grouped ships the better your defensive coverage was and the more fire you could direct down specific vectors, but you began to lose the ability to rapid redeploy and potentially cut off entire lanes for return fire.

Assuming you cared about hitting your allies, that is.

There were still too many unknowns, a misstep here could be fatal. At any rate it seemed like luck had been on Cyrus' side this time, there was no indication of detection just yet. Best to continue the approach with caution.

A tech had been standing quietly by the command chair for several minutes now. Cyrus nodded to acknowledge her presence. "Report."

"Sir, there is a third group of vessels also un-engaged. They are staying quiet but we've visually identified the Ruination and other ships from War Fleet Black Iron. We've been tracking comms traffic and watching the progress of transports moving to and from the Black Iron ships, and we believe that [member="Darth Vornskr"] and his personal guard have landed at the palace. There's a blackout on any formal communications, but from what we've been able to decipher from secondary channels we believe that he is engaged with the first usurper, [member="Darth Mephirium"] and loyalist forces."

Cyrus just nodded and dismissed the tech with a curt 'very well.' That was a lot to chew on, good work for the intel goons. Three parties at play then? It made sense, and the Sith were ever a quarrelsome lot. The only question was which side to join. The Dark Lord didn't look like a winning team, despite the fact that the defense fleet was making good progress at the moment. Too many factors weighted against hte loyalists, but the force alone help those on the losing side if they won in the end. Mephirium on the other hand was an unknown to Cyrus, he had never worked with him. Vornskr? A lot of questions there too, though for different reasons.

He turned in his chair, addressing the flag captain.

"Captain, any idea who the commander of the Capital Defense Fleet is? Last I remember was Admiral Sar'theron."

Vayyrel shook her head almost immediately. "No sir, she transferred several months ago. Most recently was, I'm not sure, someone recently promoted, though. There was a feeling of some corruption in appointing the position."

Cyrus nodded. Typical, the very sort of thing he'd tried to stamp out with Boan Rein rearing its ugly head again. And it meant that the leadership of the loyalist fleet was yet another unknown factor. Too many of said unknowns, time to make things more cut and dry.

"All units, advance in close formation, cruiser screen in front, strike craft on standby. They haven't noticed us so far, lets see what happens when they do."

[member="Aelius Varangian"] [member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Rexus]

Room. Rexus needed room.

The pure-blooded Sith known as Rexus was currently wading through the thick and quite gruesome battle occurring in he courtyard. To all present, should they look upon Rexus, they would find him a ghastly sight in deed. His crimson skin was covered in the gore and viscera belonging to the slain. Furthermore, Rexus suffered a wound in the past that forced him to wear a respirator that was, as of now, gone. Having been rendered inert by a glancing blaster shot, Rexus had removed the device as it was nothing more than an irritant at that point. This revealed the heavily scarred and gnarled portion of his lower face.

Room. Need room.

Every breath Rexus took was a labored, raspy wheeze that set his entire body alight with pain. If he could find even a few feet to have to himself, he could focus. All around him people were dying for ideals that probably weren't their own. More than likely, the assembled warriors were either slaved to their respectful leaders or slaved to the honeyed promised levied toward them. Rexus himself had joined the banner of the usurper and he hoped he had chosen right. Rexus then came upon a group of four loyal Sith soldiers, Rexus reignited his saber in response. The weapons crimson blade was once again ready to sate it's thirst for blood. The closest trooper raises his weapon only to find it and himself cleaved in two. Continuing onward with his momentum, Rexus skewers the man who stood behind the trooper he had just killed. Unfortunately, Rexus was only an acolyte and that, coupled with his bulk, made it impossible for him to dodge the bolts from the survivors. The metal plating on Rexus' left arm absorbed the shot but blew apart, rendering the arm completely unprotected. The second bolt hit Rexus in the lower portion of his makeshift cuirass. The armor prevented what could have been a kill shot though it did burn and damage Rexus quite magnificently.

" DIE! DIE! DIE! "

Rexus bellowed with a mixture of fury and pain as he tore the blade free from his previous victim, his blade arcing through the air due to a spin like movement. It was a slow movement but Rexus was possessed of a reach that allowed the now heavy strike to decimate his enemy. The final trooper fell onto his behind as he narrowly evaded the strike. At the expense of his dodge, the trooper had lost his blaster and before he could go for it, Rexus was upon him. The pure-blood had lost it. He gave into his rage for even the briefest moment of respite. Rexus continued onward until he finally reached friendly forces. It was there that Rexus caught sight of the man he believed was the one responsible for the insurrection. [member="Darth Mephirium"]. In stead of taking cover and possibly getting new orders, Rexus charged the remaining loyalist forces alongside the reinforcements.

The pure-blood was lost in a world full of nothing but mindless agression.

 

[Gulliver Foyle]

Well, this was going swimmingly.

The vast majority of the 501s simply wasn't able to fit in the limited space they had available. Most of the assault shuttles were laying in wait nearby; the city surrounding the palace was positively lousy with the things. They could continue to throw bodies at the palace, but there was only so long they could keep it up before the situation became untenable.

The mercenary was hunched over a map of the underlevels near the palace when a messenger arrived.

"Sir! [member="Darth Mephirium"] is trying to reach you!"

Gulliver nodded and keyed up the commlink. It took a few seconds for the encryption to match up and for protocols to be observed, but they finally got through.

"What's the word?"

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

Varus nodded in response to Darth Mephirium as he gave his order to begin cleaning house after they managed to breach the gates of the palace. Their slaughter of Sith Loyalists was nowhere near complete, and in this regard, at least Varus was doing his previous cause a great deal of good. At least in this soon to be Dark Lord's employ he could help realize the man's goals while dispatching countless Sith, just like those who already lay dead to his hands on that very same day. This man, one of his oldest friends, would have his throne, but at the cost of so many of so very many lives. Sith lives that the Jedi would should very well praise him for dispatching from this world.

"Shikarr", Varus whispered to a cloaked and masked man walking next to him, a group of about twenty some odd Sith Knights and Apprentices walking in formation behind them both, beyond them was another group and then another. "Prepare your units for breach. We'll be breaching the gates soon.", he told the man simply, who nodded in silent reply and turned to bark orders at the others, all of whom stopped and stacked up in a different formation for their impending charge to the gates which were to be destroyed only minutes hence.

The young warrior carried his signature violet blades that dangled from his hips as he galloped out in front of the others, stopping only when he knew he was quite far enough from the gates of the palace as to avoid the explosion, whenever that was to take place. As he reached the bottom steps, though, he stopped and watched an odd looking, red skinned Sith billow out a great scream, which rushed along the steps, cracking and splitting them as they threw debris. By the time the shattered stones had reached the bottom step, however, they were merely skipping down across stone, trickling across the steps just above him before the pieces finally stopped moving at the base of the tall staircase.

"Interesting weapon...", he whispered as he watched [member="Darth Vidar"] who was toting around a his San-Ni Staff, looking as poised for battle as any.


[member="Darth Mephirium"] - [member="Gulliver Foyle"] - [member="Aelius Varangian"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Allies: [member="Greta Kohler"], [member="Braxus Zambrano"], [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member=Seraphina Shel'tah]
Enemies: [member=Rigor], [member="Laguz Vald"]
Objective: Don't get in my way

Alas, they found more insurgents to dispose of when their was interrupted by mercenaries of Saeva Inc. Granted, their weaponry was state of the art as well as their armor and other products of warfare, but that didn't prove that these mercenaries could handle the savagery of Darth Vornskr and his companions. The Mandalorian wouldn't boast himself by just neutralizing his adversaries with his bare hands since that would lead him to his downfall. Anyone had the potential to be a threat to reckon with and Vilaz wasn't planning on dying today just to secure the throne from the current Dark Lord for his private employer. As Kaine slayed and tore his way through most of the ranks of mercenaries and loyalists that challenged the haunting and stirring demeanor of the Sith Lord Vilaz contributed on helping the Epicanthix by murdering the lucky ones that Kaine missed via range. He would use his refurnished dual blaster pistols and take caution aim while taking no damage as his personal shield, the first layer of his defense, countered both plasma and slug projectiles. The Bounty Hunter wouldn't waste on the poor, deteriorating souls that suffered the crimson lightning from the fingers of the Butcher King. Better to die at the given moment than slowly fade away with agony, pain, and sorrowfulness. No mercy would be demonstrated to their cries and wails of help.

As they boldly walked on the main path to the front doors of the Imperial Palace he and his associates were immediately barraged by the projectiles of marksmen that were positioned on the walls of the complex. He quickly used the infrared sensors of his visor just to locate the electromagnetic radiant energy of the distant enemies. Spotting an individual parapet that wasn't receiving the attention of the Epicanthix Sith Lord he activated his integrated jetpack and ascended to the skies. Just when he was at a much higher height than his targets he extended his left arm which would aim directly at his targets and would launch out an anti-personnel rocket from his wrist rocket launcher.

"For you," he said, knowing that his intended targets couldn't hear him, and saw the explosion of the rocket upon impact which killed and blown his victims in all random directions from the blast radius along with debris of duracrete and durasteel. The Field Marshal would then fly to another nearby parapet and would barrage the vulnerable snipers with his pistols.

 

[Disciple]

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

Why not you, she asks.

"Why not I?" Astaire cocked his head to one side. "Simple, really. It's not a civil war if there's not two sides. It would seem the traitors outnumber the loyal, and a Plus-One can sometimes be all the difference."

 

[Tyberius Fel]

"Of course, your majesty." Aelius was nothing if not a leal servant and thus he bowed his head to his Emperor and spoke into his helmet's internal comms, seeking the location of the nearest 501st Sappers unit. "Pinned down by heavy blaster fire!" Came the reply from a certaun Lieutenant Dan and a set of coordinates. Gliding across the cratered landscape with the assistance of the force, Aelius came upon a squad of engineers desperately scrambling behind the cover of a fallen statue of the Dark Lord himself. A shrill whistle split the air. Aelius looked up to spot artillery shells mixed with heavy blaster fire sailed over his head crash into a nest of loyalists in a nearby watchtower. Exploiting this opportunity, Aelius flipped through the air, unleashing pent up dark sided energy in a force repulse that sent an advancing squad of loyalists whirling in all directions, many off a ledge and to their deaths by a endless fall down to the lower levels of Coruscant.

With a calm sharply contrasting the scene of madness and butchers' work that surrounded him, he turned to the sappers who's relief he could sense even through their face obscuring helmets. "Where is your Lieutenant?" Demanded the Royal Guard of the nearest Stormtrooper, who in turn pointed to a pile of charred white plasteel with severed legs and replied: "I am afraid Lieutenant Dan is going home in a soup can, sir. Sergeant Arminus at your service." Lowering himself to a knee to avoid sniper fire, Aelius pointed the sizzling tip of his forcestaff to the massive gates of the Palace. "We're assaulting the pretender's bunker." With a nod the Sappers advanced under heavy blaster to the Palace gates, moving from cover to cover.

As the Royal Guard mutilated a loyalist with a twirl of his Forcestaff, a explosion shook near him. Debris hammered him, though the majority of the impact was absorbed by a hastily erected force barrier and his armor, leaving him dotted with bruises but otherwise unharmed. As he turned to Sergeant Arminus' platoon, he saw half of the remainder (which was not significant to begin with) wiped out. A now unhelmeted Arminus turned to his fallen comrades, as if he intended to return to them.

Aelius placed his hand on Arminus' shoulder. "Leave the dead where they fall. They die as martyrs."

A expression of resolute determination seized the Sergeant's face. Aelius believed he saw much of his younger self within the Stormtrooper.

The remainder of the platoon charged up the steps of the Palace, with the sappers hurriedly setting up thermal explosives at the palace doors as one by one they were picked off by both normal and blaster fire. Even Aelius himself was having difficultly deflecting the pure volume of firepower they were receiving. Eventually it was just Arminus, focusing wholly on the task at hand instead of his almost imminent death. Soon enough, a blaster bolt struck him in the thigh, felling him. "Sir.. get out of blast range, I'll detonate.. the explosives.." he coughed out a spray of blood. The Royal Guard took a mere moment to contemplate this, and then used the force to throw the Sergeant behind a shattered pillar for cover. Calling the detonator to his hand, he flipped behind the same pillar. Arminus looked up at the Royal Guard with a sense of awe. He did not expect to be saved.

"You may have the honors, Sergeant." Aelius dropped the detonator into the shaking palm of the soldier. "And what a honor it is, sir." Arminus smiled weakly and mashed the button.

A resounding explosion shook the ground itself, not only blasting the palace gates into oblivion but sounding the death kneel for the loyalist cause.

[member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Drana'stair'eno"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Acarus"] | [member="The Handmaiden"] | [member="Isamu Baelor"]

A shadowy woman with horns recommended he not do that, so Darth Adekos obliged by stepping away from the door. This was not the first time a robed woman with horns had told him not to do something. Or, rather, it actually was. He did not have a lot of dealings with Iktotchi. The sounds of combat and wholesale slaughter grew louder and more prominent as he meandered away from the door and his hand fell preemptively close to the lightsaber at his belt.

The Iktotchi observed that most have turned and asked what kept the rest of them there. "I don't trust that upstart. I doubt he's got any skill as a statesmen. He practically admitted to me all of his followers had the collective intelligence of a bag of rocks, so-"

The doors burst open, and out came the Hand of the Dark Lord, Baelor. This was a man with tangible battlefield experience. A leader. Adekos would have trusted this man with the throne far before the lunatic trying to break through the palace doors even as they spoke. At least Baelor probably appreciated the merits of vetting your allies for charlatans and troglodytes. The Darth unclipped his lightsaber with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "I'll do what I can."

Meanwhile, the pureblood Adekos was not familiar with, was hung up on something else. The Umbaran scoffed audibly. "Why are you asking about a Vong?" He sneered. "With any luck he'll be pushing up the daises somewhere with the rest of his reprehensible ilk."

 

[Darth Vaildra]

[member="Morgana Belcourt"]

He looked at the war, simple words she spoke, but he was not speaking simply. " This is not chaos, it has purpose, reason. A Dark Lord lives down on that planet, few have seen him and few believe him to have the power he claims to have. The Sith desire to live to be greater, but they are fighting a foolish battle, to kill the Lord here and continue the Legacy of the One Sith. The Sith are a power to be feared, but they fight with their hands tied. Power was given to them and they did not have to kill and deceive to achieve this power." He turned from the window and moved away as he came to holomap and pulled it up looking at his prize. "I leave you at a crossroad, I will not join this fight. You can chose to take my personal X-Wing in the hanger that has seen many wars and has survived both battles for Alderaan and join this battle. If you join this battle and live you have a great chance to catch the attention of the Lords of the One Sith who will train you. Second option, you throw away those lightsabers and any illusion of power you think you have and we leave here to return the Sith to their former Glory."